Page 28 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter twenty-six

Fighting Fire with Fire

NOAH

I stand outside Sera’s door in the dead of night, the corridor quiet except for the low hum of the firehouse heater. This is the first time I feel okay stepping away from Marcus, even for a minute. I place my hand on the doorframe and try the knob.

Locked. A good sign.

I don’t knock. I just stand there, breathing in the silence.

She is in there—I can smell her.

Safe. Alive. Home.

But there is something else riding beneath the familiar scent of lavender and fire ash. A wolf. Male. Dominant.

My jaw tightens, a low growl curling in my throat. Every instinct sharpens, ready to strike.

Bode.

His scent clings to her like smoke on burned timber. Not recent, but strong enough to turn my stomach. My wolf rages under my skin, clawing to get out. Another alpha has dared to leave his mark on what is mine.

I force myself to breathe. He will need to be dealt with.

Not now. Not yet. There is another fire I have to put out first.

Marcus.

***

Back in his room, Marcus is beginning to surface. The shift has wrecked him—he twitches like a dreamer caught in a nightmare, sweat beading across his brow.

I release Tori from her watch. “I appreciate….” She pats my hand. “…the gesture.” She smiles. “It will be alright.” Then she hands me a water bottle.

As she closes the door gently behind her, I kneel beside Marcus and press the bottle into his hand.

“You okay?”

His eyes flutter open, then wince. “What the hell happened to me? Why does it feel like my skin’s on backwards?”

I let out a breath. “Because you're changing. You've always been an animal, my friend. Now you're really half one.” I pause, letting the words settle. “Welcome to the pack.”

He blinks, like he’s beginning to remember what he saw. “No. No, you didn’t—”

“You didn’t leave me any choice,” I say quietly. “I couldn't have you telling our secrets.”

He jolts upright, eyes wild, backing into the corner. “No, this isn't happening.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It is. But I'm going to be here every step of the way to guide you. To protect you.”

Marcus drags a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “So you made me a monster? You had no right!”

I meet his stare. “We become what we need to be to protect our own.”

He doesn’t answer. Just stares at me, caught between the urge to punch me or bolt.

I don’t blame him. It’s a lot to take in.

And he doesn’t even know the half of it yet.

The next morning, the kitchen smells like burnt toast and overcooked eggs, but I’m barely aware of it.

I walk in late, my head pounding with too many thoughts and not enough sleep.

Sera’s already there, coffee mug in hand, curled over the table like she’s trying to escape inside her hoodie.

She doesn’t look at me, and something in my chest twists—sharp and hollow.

The space between us, once filled with heat and sparks, now echoes with silence.

“Morning,” I try.

Nothing. Not even a grunt. Her eyes stay locked on her phone, thumb scrolling slowly like she’s searching for something important—or trying to avoid something worse.

I can’t tell if she’s mad at me for not saving her or if she feels guilty for some other reason. No matter. The wall is up.

When she finally sips her coffee, I catch a glimpse of her neck.

A mark.

Barely visible. But I see it.

My gut drops. My wolf snarls.

It’s faint, but it’s there. Bode’s bite.

I grip the back of a chair, trying to keep my breathing steady. I’ve seen marks like that before—claiming bites, territorial bullshit. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected her.

Instead, I was holed up with Marcus, playing babysitter to a new wolf.

Speaking of, Marcus stumbles into the kitchen like he’s walking through glue. His eyes are glassy, jaw twitching with confusion. He grabs the coffee pot—and nearly flings it across the room as he fumbles it in his suddenly-too-strong hands.

“Dude,” Marcus mutters. “Why does everything feel so damn light?”

Sera glances up, frowning at him.

I laugh, hoping everyone will assume it was a typical rough night for him. Casually, I go to him, not wanting to scare him off, and whisper in his ear. “Be careful. You’re adjusting. Strength comes with the change.”

He looks at me like I'm crazy, but I see the start of one of his mischievous grins. It’s already starting to feel good to him, this Monster he’s becoming.

Maybe too good.

And that’s when I see it: the moment Sera picks up on a shift of some type. Her gaze lingers on Marcus longer than it should. She knows something’s different. Hopefully, she's too exhausted to put all the pieces together.

My stomach twists into a knot of guilt, dread, and... jealousy?

Goddamn it, Marcus.

"Keep it together, buddy," I whisper again as Marcus nearly launches the milk container to the ceiling.

Sera’s focus drifts back to her phone. She smiles at a text—just a small one, but it’s enough to punch the air from my lungs.

I have no idea who it's from.

But I know this much--it’s not from me, and it’s got her attention.

Out on the job, the engine’s siren cuts through the hills like a banshee, and I’m grateful for the noise. It’s better than the silence in Sera’s eyes. She hasn’t spoken to me all morning, not really. Just clipped words and tired nods. But I can feel her watching me when she thinks I’m not looking.

Fine. Let her watch. Maybe then she’ll see how much I’m still trying to hold all this together.

We hit the ridge and roll up on the fire. Small brush fire, supposedly. Routine.

Except nothing about today feels routine.

We line up to connect the hoses. I wave Marcus over to the rear intake and help him rig the pump. The engine kicks once, then coughs out like it’s trying to die.

"What the hell—?" I mutter, ducking to check the water feed.

The gauge is wrong. The pressure’s tanking, but the tank’s full. Everything looks normal.

Except it isn’t.

“Marcus,” I bark. “Did you check this line before we left?”

He freezes like a guilty teenager. “Yeah. I mean—I think so? I—”

The hose sputters again. Nothing’s moving. We’re out of water. And we’re standing right in front of an advancing fire line.

Sera shouts to the crew and jumps into action, leading a backburn while Rivas grabs the hand tools. The team rallies fast, containing the blaze, and getting the hose back online, but the damage is already done. The malfunction didn’t just slow us down—it burned away any evidence.

The last trace of whatever—or whoever—started this.

We re-group at the truck. Sera's flushed with heat and dirt. She glares at the smoldering wreckage like she can will it into telling her what it saw. She won’t say it out loud, but she knows there's more to the story about the pump. And so do I.

Hadn't I seen Marcus coming out of the back of the truck this morning?

Why was he back there?

Why would he mess with our equipment?

Would he?

And why the hell did he have to be back there last night of all nights...right in the middle of my shift?

Later, when we’re back at the house, I pull Marcus aside behind the shed.

“You touch the water lines?”

He flinches. “What? No.”

“You sure?” I press. “Because we were flying blind out there.”

His jaw twitches. “I didn’t do anything. Maybe someone else—"

“Don’t lie to me,” I growl.

His eyes flash—gold. His wolf close to the surface. Too close.

Then he shoves me.

I don’t wait. I slam him back into the wall. “You put my crew in danger,” I snarl. “You put her in danger.”

“You’re not thinking straight!” he yells. “Ever since she got here—”

I don’t hear the rest. Not really.

Because that’s when Sera walks around the corner.

And the look in her eyes makes me wish the fire had taken me too.

Sera storms toward us, eyes blazing, jaw tight. “What the hell is going on?”

Marcus straightens, but doesn’t speak. He looks at me, his expression full of something between betrayal and shame. I turn toward her, chest still heaving.

“He messed with the truck,” I say, trying to sound calm.

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Marcus? You sure about that?” She scans his face like the clues are written there.

“He was in the back this morning,” I growl. “And the pressure line was screwed up. We almost lost the hose team.”

Marcus throws up his hands. “I didn’t sabotage it! I was... I don’t know what I was doing. I was trying to help!”

“By getting us killed?” I snap.

“I didn’t mean to!” he shouts.

Sera steps between us. “Enough!”

Marcus mutters, “I didn’t ask for this,” and storms off, disappearing into the side yard.

Sera’s eyes bore into mine now. She confronts me. " And what about you, Noah? What did you mean to do when you turned him into a werewolf?"

The question punches me harder than Marcus ever could. “I had to,” I say, quieter now. “He knew too much. He saw too much.”

“You were born like this. There was nothing you could do about that. But you made him like you?” Her voice is a whisper now, like she can’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth. “You changed his entire life—his body, his soul—why? Because you didn’t want your secret getting out?”

“It was more than that,” I say, trying to hold her gaze. “It was survival. I needed help, someone I could trust. Someone we could trust. This way our secrets are his secrets.”

Sera steps back like I slapped her. “You did it for you. Not for him. And definitely not for me.” A breath of air escapes her like wind out of a balloon. “Now I have to wonder how close you are to your uncle and his crew.”

The hurt in her voice cuts deeper than her words.

I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say.

Sera’s eyes are glassy now, her fists clenched at her sides. Our roles reversed. She is fully in charge.

“I can’t do this right now,” she says, voice cracking.

Then she turns and walks away—toward the firehouse, toward her Rambler, toward anywhere that isn’t me . Her scent lingers in the air—embers and defiance—and it chokes me more than smoke ever could.

I just stand there, fists clenched, chest caving in, breath ragged. Watching her go.

So much for building a pack.

Now my best friend and my fated mate are both gone.

And just like always, I’m alone. A lone wolf with nothing but my own damn guilt for company.

And Marcus... Marcus is about to turn. I can’t let him leave, even if part of me wants to run too.