Page 3 of Snarl First, Kiss Later (Alpha’s Prophecy #2)

THREE

AVA

A va hated hiking in circles, yet dawn found her doing just that as she paced the strip of moss outside the abandoned ranger station while Silas slept inside, bones knit slow and steady.

The air smelled of wet bark and woodsmoke, plus a faint iron tang that hadn’t rinsed from her hands no matter how hard she scrubbed in the creek.

She should radio PEACE. That was the sensible play. Shadowfall’s council had drilled it into her skull since she learned to lace boots—report shifter activity, keep the border safe. Find a wounded wolf, tag his ear and call for backup. Simple protocol.

So why did her thumb hover above the transmitter switch like it weighed a thousand pounds?

Because he saved your life.

Because he didn’t have to.

Memories clawed up behind her eyelids: Silas throwing himself at the scouts outside the cave, his claws flashing amber and scarlet as he dragged one attacker off her back. He bled for a town that would jail him on sight. That gnawed at her logic.

She blew out a breath, pushing inside the ranger shack.

Early sun bled through cracked windows, striping the dusty interior.

Silas lay on an old canvas cot, jacket off, chest bandaged.

The cut across his ribs had sealed some overnight thanks to shifter metabolism, edges turning pink instead of angry red.

He’d rolled onto his side, one arm dangling.

Without armor or glare he looked younger—exhausted, like a man carrying too many ghosts.

Ava set her rifle against the wall and crouched, fingers seeking his pulse. Strong, steady, a drum that vibrated beneath tanned skin. Her gaze skimmed the scar slashing down his back, puckered and silvered, ugly reminder of another life. She traced the air above it, not daring to touch.

“You stare any harder I’ll combust,” he muttered, eyes still closed.

Heat crawled up her neck. “Checking your vitals, hero.”

“Mm.” One gray-gold eye cracked open. “Diagnosis?”

“Stubborn jackass. Condition: improving.”

“Sounds terminal.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He huffed a laugh, then winced. “How far did we hike?”

“Five miles—give or take. You were half-conscious, leaned on me like a drunken moose.”

“Elegant picture.”

“Be grateful. I could’ve left you decorating the trail.”

Silas pushed onto an elbow. “But you didn’t.”

That truth settled between them. Ava rose, pacing to the window. Pines stretched downslope, mist curling through branches. Somewhere beyond, Shadowfall’s tin roofs caught sunrise.

“My town…” She swallowed. “They lost a convoy yesterday, not unlike what happened to PEACE. Families’ll be worried sick. PEACE will send investigators by noon.”

His gaze sharpened. “You think they’ll track us here?”

“Maybe not yet. But they’ll hunt whoever hit the trucks. If they connect blood traces to you, they won’t ask questions.”

Silas sat fully, swinging legs over the cot. He moved slow but deliberate, like each motion measured. “If you need to turn me in, do it.”

The blunt offer punched air from her lungs. “Just like that?”

“You saved me. Debt’s paid. I won’t fight you.”

Her mind flashed back to childhood—her father stepping out at dusk to mediate a border dispute, promising he’d be right back.

He never returned; only his gun did, coated in someone else’s blood.

Story went that a rogue pack ambushed the talks.

Shadowfall had buried its trust with him one cold morning.

She’d grown up believing every wolf was a potential trigger.

Yet Silas’s eyes held no malice, only resignation. He would walk into a cell for her town’s peace of mind.

“That’s not how debts work,” she said quietly. “And I’m not tossing you to scavengers because it’s easy.”

“Easy or not, it’s safer.”

“Safe’s overrated.” She met his gaze. “What aren’t you telling me? Those scouts last night—they weren’t random. Who sent them?”

Silas’s jaw flexed. “An old faction that followed Roman. They think the war ain’t over.”

“So they’re raiding PEACE convoys?”

“And abducting humans to trade for silver arms.” His voice went flat. “They want leverage to break Roman out of custody.”

Ice slid down her spine. “Roman’s alive?”

“Locked deep underground by King Landon’s decree. But loyalists whisper. They’d burn every settlement west of Dragon Ridge to free him.”

PEACE hadn’t shared that tidbit. Of course they wouldn’t; panic brewed riots and riots bred blood. Ava’s pulse kicked. “Shadowfall sits west of the ridge.”

Silas nodded. “Convoy route skirted your valley for a reason.”

She scrubbed hands over her face. Shadows of her father’s disappearance loomed larger—rogues back then, rogues now, same craving for chaos.

History didn’t repeat; it sharpened its teeth.

And since the Veil had fallen however many years ago now- 11,12- peace was just as rare between species then as it was now.

He watched her wrestle the fear. “I came west because I heard rumors of camps storing hostages. I thought I could slip in, extract them.”

“Solo rescue mission? That’s suicide.”

“Been living on borrowed time.”

Something in his tone, quiet and bleak, cracked her chest open a fraction. “You really hate yourself that much?”

“Just figure redemption costs blood,” he said softly. “Haven’t paid enough, apparently.”

She stepped closer, ire sparking. “Redemption isn’t a damn math equation. You can’t balance a ledger with scars.”

“Tell that to the ghosts.”

They stared, tension taut as a wire. Ava’s hands shook from more than anger; compassion wanted in. She fought to cage it.

Footsteps scuffed outside. Both spun, weapons up, but it was only Boone Carver—Shadowfall’s lanky trapper—striding into view, crossbow slung over shoulder. Ava cursed under her breath; she’d forgotten morning patrols swung by this ridge.

Silas slid behind the doorframe, stilling breath. Ava grabbed her radio.

Boone halted at the porch. “Ava? That you?” His drawl bounced between pine trunks. “Saw smoke.”

Heart pounding, she cracked the door. “Yeah, Boone. Stopped to rest. Everything okay?”

He eyed her bandaged arm—the graze she’d taken when the scout’s bullet nicked her. “Heard about the convoy mess. Folks jittery. Thought maybe you ran into trouble.”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

He peered past her shoulder. “You alone?”

Silas’s scent drifted under Boone’s human senses, but all it would take was one misstep—one gleam of gold eyes.

Ava forced a grin. “Only the squirrels.”

Boone shrugged. “Alright. If you see anything weird, holler.” He tapped the radio at his belt. “PEACE’s offering rewards for intel.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

He waved and loped back down the trail. Ava shut the door, pressing forehead to wood as adrenaline trembled through limbs.

“That was close,” she muttered.

Silas emerged from shadow. “You could’ve traded me for a fat bounty.”

“Boone gossips like a bored hen. Whole valley would know in an hour.” She turned, crossing arms. “Besides, I meant what I said. We find those prisoners together.”

Relief flickered across his stern face, gone quick as it came. “Thank you.”

She exhaled. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Silas nodded. “What’s the plan, then?”

Plan. Right. She paced, boots thudding warped floorboards. “Convoy route’s east of the limestone forks. Loyalists probably cut southeast toward Black Hollow caves.” She pulled a faded topographical map from her pack, flattened it on a crate. “Plenty of tunnels, hard to track by air.”

He bent over the chart, shoulder brushing hers—a glancing contact that sparked nerves. Ava ignored it, tracing a finger. “We’ll lose daylight if we backtrack. You fit to travel?”

“Give me an hour. I’ll manage.”

She shot him a look. His skin held pallor under the tan, but determination steel-wired his frame. “Fine. Rest while you can. I’ll scavenge supplies.”

Ava stepped outside. Morning mist curled around her calves, cool and soothing. She inhaled, sorting thoughts.

Turn him in and maybe save her own skin. Keep him close and risk Shadowfall branding her traitor. Either way the valley sat in crosshairs of a pack war nobody asked for.

Her father’s voice echoed from old memories: Courage ain’t the absence of fear, birdie. It’s choosing who you stand beside when fear knocks .

She huffed. “Thanks, Dad.”

Decision settled like a stone. She would stand with Silas, come hell or high water. Not because he needed saving but because he fought for strangers when no one watched. Shadowfall could judge later; lives were on the line now.

She gathered dried rabbit from Boone’s snare, filled canteens at the creek, and returned. Silas already wrapped his torso with fresh gauze, shirt back on, knife belt buckled. He looked up, gray eyes meeting hers.

“You sure?” he asked, voice rough.

“Positive.” She tossed him jerky. “Eat. Then we hunt wolves.”

A ghost of a smile curved his mouth—small, genuine. “Yes, ma’am.”

They left the station at high sun, following deer runs through spruce.

Ava set brisk pace despite pack weight, Silas matching stride.

Conversation stayed light—trail markers, weather, who got to choose dinner rations—but undercurrents pulsed strong.

Each brush of arms, each shared canteen sip, carved familiarity into the quiet.

At a crest overlooking the valley, they paused. Shadowfall’s roofs winked below, smoke drifting lazy from chimneys. Ava felt conflicted, pride and worry tangled before turning to head downhill.

Hours later they camped beneath overhanging rock. Ava kindled a small fire, shielding glow with her body. Silas sharpened his hunting knife, long strokes rhythmic.

She watched sparks dance. “When this is over… what will you do?”

He paused, blade balanced across knee. “Depends if the king pardons me.”

“I heard Landon’s fair.”

“He is. Doesn’t erase my past.”

Silence settled, not awkward but intimate. Moonlight filtered through needles, bathing his jaw in silver. Ava’s pulse skipped when she realized how much she was studying him.

She cleared her throat. “You should rest.”

“So should you.”

“Can’t. My brain spins.”

He shifted closer, the space between them shrinking. “Talk to me.”

She wanted to share, but felt it made her too vulnerable.

So, instead of letting words tumble out about memories of her father, the night he never came home, the way Shadowfall walled its heart behind silver fences, she just shrugged and they left it at that.

As much as she thought maybe she could, she didn’t trust him.

Or anyone. But she wouldn’t deny the help if he was willing to go along with it.

They settled against the rock. Sleep crept slow but sure. As her eyelids drifted, doubt whispered PEACE, town council, bounty hunters but Silas’s steady breathing anchored her. She inhaled his scent: pine, smoke, something uniquely him. Not threat, not monster, just a man trying to atone.

Maybe she could let the past lie long enough to forge a new path. One stitched from trust instead of fear.

Morning would bring bloodhounds and silver bullets, but night belonged to her.

For now.