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CHAPTER 1

SOPHIA

T he fire burns low, casting flickering light over the damp earth. The scent of pine and wet bark lingers in the air, mixing with the remnants of the stew Oscar made earlier. We’ve settled in for the night, but the energy in the camp is anything but restful.

Kylie leans against a moss-covered log, idly sharpening her blade. Oscar stands near the fire, arms crossed, watching me the way he does when he expects me to say something reckless.

"Well?" he finally asks, his voice even. "Did Nightshade’s beta try to rip your throat out?"

I sip from my tin mug, the tea still hot enough to warm my hands. "No," I say, tilting my head. "He just glared at me like he was deciding whether to throw me off the ridge or let me keep talking."

Kylie grins. "And which did he choose?"

I shrug. "Jury’s still out."

Oscar scrubs a hand down his face. "Sophia, this isn’t a game. If we don’t get these wolves to listen, none of us will have a future to fight for."

"I know that," I snap, setting my mug down a little harder than necessary. "But you know as well as I do that the settled packs don’t think like we do. They don’t trust outsiders, and they sure as hell don’t change their traditions just because someone tells them to."

Oscar exhales sharply, turning his gaze toward the darkness beyond the firelight. "Then we make them listen. Find a way."

Kylie snorts. "Easier said than done. You saw those wolves tonight. They’re locked in their ways, and Lucas Stone might be the worst of them."

The name alone sends a prickle of awareness across my skin. Lucas.

Golden eyes like wildfire, broad shoulders rigid with authority, a voice rough and edged with command. ‘You don’t belong here,’ he’d said it like it was absolute fact, as if the Windriders were nothing more than wanderers passing through his carefully protected world.

I roll my shoulders back, irritation crawling up my spine. "He’s stubborn," I admit. "But he’s not an idiot. He knows something’s wrong. I saw it in his face when I mentioned the birthrate decline."

Oscar frowns, his brow furrowing. "So he’s aware?"

"He suspects. They all do. They just won’t admit it because it means facing the fact that the old ways aren’t working anymore." I glance toward the edge of camp, where the forest presses in like silent sentries. "But this isn’t just a problem for them. It’s everywhere. Packs are losing something fundamental, and no one can figure out why."

Kylie flips her knife in her palm, watching the firelight catch along the sharp edge. "You really think it’s tied to the land?"

I nod. "I do. There’s something fractured beneath us. The energy in these mountains—it’s different. Wilder. More unpredictable."

Oscar rubs a hand over his jaw. "And you think the Nightshade Pack is the key?"

"They’re the oldest settled pack in the region," I say. "If anyone holds the missing piece, it’s them. But we won’t get anywhere if they keep guarding their damn borders like they can keep the truth out just by growling at it."

Kylie laughs. "To be fair, Lucas does growl pretty well."

I groan, throwing a twig at her, which she bats away effortlessly. "Not helping."

Oscar watches me for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. "You know he’s going to fight you every step of the way, right?"

I lift my chin. "Then I’ll fight back."

Kylie nudges Oscar with her boot. "Told you. She’s already got him under her skin."

"Absolutely not," I blurt out quickly.

Oscar arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Sophia, don’t play games with this. If Lucas Stone is going to be a problem, we need to deal with him accordingly."

"He’s not a problem," I say, standing. "He’s just another wolf too set in his ways to see what’s happening right in front of him. And I don’t have time to waste convincing a man like that to pull his head out of his own ass."

Oscar makes a sound that might be amusement or exasperation—hard to tell with him. "Then what’s your plan?"

I stretch my arms over my head, rolling my shoulders. "We give them something they can’t ignore."

Kylie watches me, eyes glinting with curiosity. "And what exactly would that be?"

I smile, slow and deliberate. "Proof. Something undeniable. Something that they can’t turn a blind eye to. They may admit that there’s a problem, but they refuse to try and do something about it."

Oscar doesn’t argue, which tells me he agrees. "And if they still refuse?"

"Then we keep pushing," I say simply. "Because we don’t have the luxury of waiting for them to decide if our warnings are worth listening to."

Kylie tosses her knife into the dirt beside the fire, the blade sinking into the earth with a satisfying thud. "I thought your father said diplomacy was the goal."

I grab my mug, draining the last of my tea. "Diplomacy is the goal. But if that doesn’t work…" I shrug, heading toward my tent. "I’m not above breaking a few rules… not to mention skulls."

Oscar shakes his head. "Lucas is going to love you."

I snort, throwing him a look over my shoulder. "I doubt it."

Kylie grins. "Even better."

I rinse my mug, my mind still replaying the moment I faced Lucas down in the forest. The way he stood there, solid as the mountain itself, daring me to challenge his authority.

Good—I never back down from a challenge.

The fire is little more than glowing embers when my father strides into camp, his coat damp from the rain that started falling an hour ago. He’s followed by Blackwood. The moment they step into the clearing, the energy shifts. Oscar straightens from where he’s crouched by the fire, and Kylie stops playing with her blade, her sharp gaze settling on the man walking beside him.

Elder Marcus Blackwood, member of the Regional Council. The elder moves with the kind of purpose that comes from knowing he’s the most important person in camp—or at least believing it. He ties his long silver hair back at the nape of his neck, and though his steps are slow, they carry the weight of authority. He wears it like a cloak, like it should be enough to command respect without question.

I resist the urge to sigh. Oh, goodie… this should be fun.

My father nods at me. “Sophia, you already know Elder Blackwood.”

“Elder,” I say smoothly, lifting my chin. “It’s been a while.”

His expression doesn’t change, but something about the way he studies me makes it clear he hasn’t forgotten who I am—or the last time I ignored his advice.

“Too soon, perhaps,” he murmurs.

Kylie hides a snort behind her hand, and Oscar shoots me a warning look that I promptly ignore. I motion toward the fire. “You’re welcome to sit.”

Elder Blackwood doesn’t move. “No need. This won’t take long.”

Of course, it won’t. He—and the others on the council—don’t like us. We don’t answer to them, and we ignore the orders, threats and warnings.

My father glances at me before addressing the elder. “We came to the Cascades because something isn’t right. We’re not the only ones who feel it. You know as well as I do that the birthrate crisis is worsening, and yet, the Regional Council does nothing.”

“The council does plenty,” Blackwood says, voice clipped. “And you, as outsiders, have no right to interfere.”

I fold my arms. “Outsiders? I didn’t realize acknowledging reality made us outsiders.”

The elder’s gaze sharpens. “Reality is something you know very little about, girl.”

I grit my teeth, swallowing down the urge to say something that would make my father regret bringing me into this world.

Oscar clears his throat. “What we know is that packs all across the region are seeing birthrates drop. This isn’t just one pack’s problem. It’s all of ours.”

Elder Blackwood lets out a slow breath, as if Oscar’s logic is exhausting to him. “The decline is concerning, but not something we can change by abandoning tradition. Packs have survived worse.”

I stare at him, incredulous. “Worse? How exactly do you think packs are going to survive when children aren’t being born? Hope that the problem fixes itself? Wait until we dwindle down, one by one?”

The elder’s expression remains impassive. “We will endure.”

I glance at my father, but he’s watching the elder carefully, his face unreadable.

“That is not the region’s only problem,” Blackwood continues. “The Crimson Claw is making things more difficult.”

The crackling of the fire is the only sound. Kylie leans forward, her tone lighter than the rest of us. “Oh? What are they up to now? Raiding food supplies? Picking fights over territory they don’t actually own?”

Blackwood’s mouth tightens. “They’re not just stirring trouble. There seems to be something deeper at work.”

I frown. “Something deeper?”

He hesitates, as if weighing whether or not we deserve an answer. “They aren’t natural. They don’t shift like we do. They seem stuck in some kind of feral shift. They are, to put it bluntly, monstrous.”

Silence. I feel a kind of hum between my pack mates, a pulse of shared unease.

Oscar’s voice is careful. “They don’t shift?”

“I can’t explain it,” Blackwood corrects.

“Try,” I say.

“They aren’t like us anymore. They are bigger, faster. There’s been a suggestion that there’s been some kind of manipulated mutation.”

I don’t like the way he says it, like the words themselves don’t sit right in his mouth. “Manipulated?”

He finally moves, stepping closer to the fire as he nods, warming his hands. “It’s unnatural.”

A slow chill runs through me. I exchange a glance with my father, but his expression remains unreadable.

“What do you think is causing it—this mutation?” I ask.

Blackwood watches me long enough that I think he won’t answer. But then his voice drops lower. “Magic. Science. Who knows? All we know is that it is something dark and unchecked.”

I snort. “Oh, that’s just dandy. Who can resist a good curse with a morning hunt?”

Oscar shakes his head. “If the Crimson Claw are mutants—that’s a threat to everyone.”

“Exactly.” Elder Blackwood straightens, his tone regaining its usual authority. “Which is why we don’t have time for Windrider interference. The council has this under control.”

I let out a short laugh. “That’s funny. I don’t recall seeing the council doing much of anything about it.”

His eyes narrow. “Watch yourself, girl.”

My wolf growls, low in my chest, but I force her back. “You don’t get to ignore a crisis just because it doesn’t fit inside your precious traditions, Blackwood. We aren’t here to make trouble. We’re here because the world is changing, and if you keep pretending it’s not happening, you’re going to find yourselves completely unprepared when the storm finally hits. And if it gets past the wolves in this region, it could wipe out our kind.”

Blackwood’s gaze locks on mine, but I don’t look away. I won’t.

After a moment, he shakes his head. “Windriders. Always chasing the wind, you think you have the answers to problems you don’t understand.” He turns back to my father. “Keep your people in line. Stay out of Nightshade business. And don’t cross the wrong borders.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before disappearing into the trees. Past bitterness weighs down the silence he leaves behind.

Kylie lets out a long breath. “That went well.”

Oscar rubs a hand over his jaw. “So now what? If the Nightshade Pack, including Lucas and Ryder, are going to be a problem…”

I stand, brushing dirt from my pants. “We’ll deal with them.” I lift my chin, my pulse beating with certainty. “Now, we figure out what’s really happening with the Crimson Claw. Because if the council won’t do their damn jobs, then I guess we’ll just have to do it for them.”

Oscar mutters something about me getting us all killed, but he doesn’t argue. Kylie grins, already excited about the trouble we’re going to cause. And my father? He watches me carefully, nodding once.

It seems we’re settled. The Nightshade wolves aren’t the only threat out here, and something tells me Lucas Stone and I are about to collide a lot sooner than either of us expected.

Oscar’s voice is still ringing in my ears as I make my way toward the edge of the camp, needing space to think. If Lucas Stone is going to be a problem, we need to deal with him accordingly.

The wind moves through the trees in restless gusts, tugging at my loose braid as I step beyond the circle of firelight. The elder’s words replay in my mind, each one a reminder that the council doesn’t see us as allies. They see us as a problem to be dismissed.

The Crimson Claw are mutants? The land has fractured beneath us? The council is refusing to acknowledge how deep this runs? And now Lucas Stone, a man who looks like he was hewn from the mountains, will be standing in my way at every turn?

Perfect. Just perfect. I hear him before I see him. A change in the night, not unnatural, but deliberate. The sound of boots treading over damp earth. Controlled, unhurried, like a predator that knows exactly where his prey is going to run.

I don’t turn, don’t let on that I’ve already marked his approach. Instead, I keep walking, my hands loose at my sides, ready for whatever game he thinks we’re playing.

"Your people need to learn better hiding spots."

The voice comes from the darkness to my left, deep and edged with that same unwavering authority I remember from our first meeting. I finally stop, shaking out my shoulders before slowly turning toward him.

Lucas leans nonchalantly against the trunk of a cedar—a combination of rigid strength and effortless dominance, watching me like I’m the problem he hasn’t figured out how to solve yet.

"Wasn’t hiding," I say smoothly. "Just needed a break from your elder’s condescending attitude."

His jaw tightens, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Amusement? Maybe. "Marcus doesn’t take kindly to people questioning him."

"Neither do I," I say, tilting my head.

He doesn’t move, but the air between us changes, stretching tight, as if we’re standing too close despite the space still lingering between us.

"I don’t trust you or any of the Windriders," Lucas states. His tone is calm, but there’s no mistaking the challenge woven into his words.

"That’s mutual," I say, arching my eyebrow. "I don’t trust wolves who think ‘territory’ means ‘blind loyalty to outdated rules’ either."

His lips press together, but something flashes in his eyes—not anger, not quite. It’s more like interest, reluctant though it may be.

"I need to know why you’re really here," he says after a moment.

I fold my arms. "I already told you. We’re investigating the birthrate crisis. It’s affecting all packs, whether or not you want to admit it."

Lucas steps forward, closing some of the space between us. He’s bigger up close, more intense, his eyes cutting through the shadows like a predator assessing his prey.

"You don’t belong in the Cascades," he says.

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. "That’s the thing about my people, Lucas. We belong wherever the wind takes us… thus the name ‘Windriders.’"

His gaze drops briefly to my mouth before snapping back up. The flicker of awareness is so quick I might have imagined it.

"Your father thinks there’s something wrong with the land," he says, ignoring my previous statement. "You agree?"

I narrow my eyes. "You already know the answer to that. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

He doesn’t deny it. "If it’s true, if there’s something unnatural happening here, I need proof."

I scoff. "Your pack wouldn’t know what to do with proof if it slapped you in the face."

Lucas moves fast, stepping in close, forcing me to tilt my chin up to hold his gaze. My pulse jumps, but I don’t back away.

"Watch it, Windrider," he murmurs, low and warning.

I hold his stare, refusing to let his dominance press me down. "Or what? You’ll chase me off like the stray or misfit you believe all of us to be?"

Something flickers in his expression, something unreadable. Then, he does the last thing I expect.

He chuckles. It’s low, rough, and entirely too appealing, the sound rolling through the space between us like distant thunder.

"You’d be a hell of a lot easier to deal with if you weren’t so damn aggravating," he says.

I grin, stepping back just enough to put a breath of space between us. “I could say the same about you, Stone.”

Lucas watches me for a long moment, as if debating whether to keep arguing or let me go. Then his gaze flicks to the dark tree line.

"You and your pack need to be careful," he finally says. "The Crimson Claw is a danger to us all. I’ve seen them, fought with them, and we believe they’re getting stronger and smarter. If we don’t stop them here, they won’t just be a threat to us. They’ll be a threat to everyone."

I study him, sensing the change in his posture, the subtle way he’s offering something unspoken.

An uneasy truce, maybe. Or just reluctant curiosity—either way, it’s something.

I nod slowly. "We can handle ourselves. But if we find anything worth sharing, I’ll consider throwing you a bone."

Lucas shakes his head, that quiet amusement still lingering beneath the surface. "Keep pushing, Sophia. See where it gets you."

"What, you afraid I’ll actually get somewhere?" I taunt.

He doesn’t answer, just studies me for another beat before turning and disappearing into the darkness, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of pine and rain.

I watch him go, my heartbeat annoyingly out of rhythm. Lucas Stone is trouble, and I really, really like trouble.