Page 24 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter twenty-two

Alpha’s Challenge

NOAH

I fight running to her, but every bone in my body breathes a sigh of relief.

“She’s alright,” Sera says before I can even ask. “Just a little shaken. Went out for a morning hike, lost her footing and her phone. The usual.”

I nod slowly, letting her words settle into the air. She gives me the eye—the one that says not now, please don’t press. I get it. This is her story, and for the moment, I’ll help her keep it.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” I say instead. Tori grabs my hand and gives it a brief squeeze as she walks past me.

Then I turn to Marcus. His expression is wrong. He’s not relieved. He’s not curious. He’s… watching Sera. Too closely. Like he’s trying to work something out.

My inner wolf growls—a low, simmering rumble I can feel in my chest. Marcus must sense it, because he quickly glances away and clears his throat.

“I’ll, uh, let everyone know the good news,” he says, already backing away.

“Good. And tell them to meet out front in fifteen,” I add. “We’ve got some traps to lay.”

As he heads off, I don’t miss the tension in his posture—or the avoidance in his eyes. Something’s off with him.

Fifteen minutes later, the team is assembled.

I hand out maps while the Captain walks through the plan.

We’ve mapped the firehouse perimeter and the surrounding forest, marking out every access point.

We’ve got pressure plates, motion sensors, and a few old-school snares. Everyone gets assigned a section.

As we break off to place the traps, I memorize every line of the map. I won’t risk triggering any of our own defenses—not with what’s coming. Because something is coming. I can feel it.

I secure my last trap beneath a fallen log, then glance back toward the station. Sera’s inside with Tori. Marcus is who knows where. And I’m here, feeling like a noose is slowly tightening around my neck.

We’re all on edge. And I don’t know if we’re setting traps for the enemy—or each other.

After dinner, the firehouse starts to wind down, but I can’t. My wolf is pacing under my skin, restless and watching. Marcus has been off all day—jumpy, cagey, and avoiding me at every turn. It’s time to put this to rest.

I find him in the gear room, checking inventory, pretending like he’s not waiting for me.

“What’s going on with you and Sera?” I ask, arms crossed.

He stiffens, then laughs—too loud, too fast. “Nothing, man. You know I’d never touch her. Bro’s before… well, you know.”

I don’t flinch. I close the distance. “I know that because you know I would kill you if you did.”

His smile fades.

“Why are you looking at her like she just stole your last beer?” I ask, tone flat but full of threat.

Marcus sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t see it. You’re too close.”

“See what?”

He hesitates. “She’s… off. The match prank? It didn’t work.”

I frown. “Sure it did. She freaked out.”

“No, Noah. The wires weren’t even connected. The trick failed—but the flame still appeared. She lit it anyway.”

I blink. “You think she’s...what? A magical arsonist?”

“I don’t know. But how does she heal so fast? Or light a broken match?”

I breathe in deep, willing my wolf to settle. “Maybe the trick worked and then the wires came loose. You know how janky that setup was.”

Marcus doesn’t answer right away.

“I hope you haven’t said anything to the Captain...for your sake. You know how little stock he puts in unnatural conspiracies.”

Marcus shakes his head No .

“What about ‘the authorities’? I’m sure they’d love to hear your theories on…what should we call it? Magic?”

He freezes, caught.

I step back, giving him an out. “Look. Just… be smart. Don’t say anything you can’t take back.”

He exhales slowly. “I just don’t think you should get too close to her. We don’t know what her game is… or who she really is.”

I nod, letting it settle. “Come on,” I say at last, spreading my hands like a magician. “We’ve got fires to make disappear.”

He follows me to the Training Room. For now, he won’t say anything. The greatest protection supernaturals have is how crazy the truth sounds.

And I plan to keep it that way.

I pace in front of the firehouse gates after midnight, checking the scent lines and motion sensors again, restless energy clawing beneath my skin. That’s when I get her text:

“Come to the circle. Bring nothing but yourself.”

My heart stutters. Of course it’s her. It’s always her.

I text back. “ What the hell are you doing in the woods…alone…again?” followed by “I’m on my way.”

The woods are cool and damp, leaves crunching under my boots as I make my way to the sacred circle we stumbled upon weeks ago. I check the sky. We're two nights out from a full moon. Too close for comfort.

When I step into the clearing, she’s already there—dressed in black, her eyes blazing.

“You okay?” I ask, crossing to her.

She nods.

“I’m fine. I wish I could say the same about Tori.”

I stop, waiting for the whole story, expecting I’ll only hear a small portion of it.

“Marcus turned her in. I’m almost sure of it. He’s been telling my contacts about the magic.”

She waits for me to process this. I run my hands through my hair.

“What do we do? Marcus is my friend. I…I can talk to him.”

“I’m not suggesting you take him out, Noah. But we need to end all of this now. Let’s find out who is behind these arsons.”

She points to the items on the ground—stones arranged in a deliberate ring, fragrant herbs tied in bundles, and a small silver dish already exhaling tendrils of smoke. The scene hums with energy, and something about it tugs at a primal part of me—familiar, unnerving, and sacred all at once.

“I think we tried this before,” I counter. “If I remember, it didn’t go so well.”

She laughs. “Have you always been such a spoilsport?”

I shake my head from side to side in deep disapproval.

"I wasn't ready then. I'm ready now."

She begins, undeterred. Her voice drops into a low chant, each syllable pulsing with quiet authority. The smoke swirling above us shivers, darkening as her words weave through the air. It coils, spins, and then rises—writhing like something alive.

The scent shifts—cedar, bloodroot, iron.

A shape begins to form in the smoke. Blurred figures step forward, hazy at first, like shadows through fog.

Then they sharpen—just enough to see claws where hands should be.

Fangs. Glowing eyes. Werewolves. My heart skips.

The air thickens with instinct and dread.

Are they watching us ? Are they already here?

Some mid-shift, others human—but wrong. Unnatural.

Faces half-obscured.

I stare, stunned. One looks familiar. Maybe two. But the spell flickers, as if something—or someone—is trying to resist it from the other side.

The circle of ash she drew at our feet glows faintly, and her fingers tremble with strain.

Still, she holds it.

As the image stabilizes, she leans closer and whispers, “Wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

The smoke snarls.

And the spell pulses once—like a heartbeat—before it shatters into sparks.

My hackles rise. My wolf surges forward.

Then—

A sound.

Snapping branches. Heavy paws.

Too late.

The pack crashes through the circle like a living storm, snarling and snapping. The largest of them grabs Sera by the scruff of her coat. I lunge, but by the time I shift, they’re already gone—vanished into the trees like smoke on the wind.

I make chase, my paws tearing through underbrush, earth flying behind me. But they have a head start and a strategy. Twigs snap beneath my weight, the scent trail fractured and fast.

Up ahead, the pack splits—three directions, three decoys.

My instincts scream. I follow the path that smells like ash and heat, the one I pray she's taken. I run until my lungs burn and my ribs ache, but when I pounce and circle them—it’s not Sera.

Just two mutts with too many teeth and not enough answers.

They attack. I counter. I slash one, and the blood squirts. The other slices me across the side. This is a battle I can’t win. And without Sera here, there's no reason to fight.

Snarling, I double back, rage burning in my chest like wildfire.

I return to the firehouse breathless, my muscles twitching with leftover adrenaline and grief. I begin to phase back, collapsing to my knees in the shadows behind the bay.

I can't take them all on alone. Seven wolves. Trained. Coordinated. And they took her.

I need help.

But who can I trust when the enemy wears familiar faces?

Deep in thought, I stand hidden behind the firetruck outside the garage, crouched low as my fur slowly retreats beneath my skin. Bones crack, muscles twist, the echo of the hunt still pounding in my veins.

I’m almost halfway shifted when I hear it.

A soft creak. A boot hitting metal.

Too late.

Marcus jumps down from the back of the rig, landing with a thud. His eyes lock on mine—and widen. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. My hands are human, but my spine hasn’t finished realigning. My eyes glow. My teeth—still too long.

Frozen.

There’s a long silence between us. The kind that stretches time and tightens lungs. Two men. Two secrets. And one devastating truth hanging in the air like smoke.

He saw.

He knows.

Marcus doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares like he’s not sure if I’m the man he’s trusted with his life—or something else entirely.

I don’t speak either. Because if I do, this thing between us will shatter. And there’s no putting it back.

I could lie. Play it off. Pretend he saw wrong.

Or I could tell the truth.

But either choice rewrites everything.

So I pause. Because the decision I make next will change everything.

And I will live to regret it.