Page 49

The bonfire crackled behind me, voices rising in a chaotic harmony of laughter and howls. Blair was halfway through some story that had some Heraclid wolves doubled over, their laughter a little too high-pitched, but hell, I’d take it. Tension had clung to this pack for months like a bad smell. Tonight felt lighter—not perfect, not by a long shot, but closer to it.

Logan stood with Eve by his side, and I caught the subtle incline of his head as she spoke, like there was no one in the world but her. The firelight caught the sharp lines of her face, her strength undeniable. Alpha was more than a title she’d claimed; it was something she wore, self-evident. And Logan was the better for it. I wouldn’t tell him, of course—he didn’t need his ego fed—but it was there in the way he carried himself. He was whole in a way he hadn’t been since...

Since before our brothers had disappeared.

I raised my mug to my lips, but stopped. A scent hit me like a jab to the face. Sharp, acrid, just wrong. My wolf stirred, a ripple of unease snaking through me. It was faint, elusive, the same thing I’d been catching in flashes for weeks. Always out of reach.

The hair on my arms rose as I scanned the crowd, laughter and firelight blurring into a haze of sound and movement. I forced a grin, clapped Blair on the shoulder in passing, and handed my mug off to a kid who looked too nervous to refuse. The edges of the clearing beckoned, shadows pooling where the firelight couldn’t reach.

Every step away from the bonfire pulled the air tighter around me. My senses sharpened, the scent growing stronger, each inhale scratching at something primal. My pulse quickened, not with fear, but with the razor-sharp focus of a wolf on the hunt.

Whatever—or whoever—was out there, I wasn’t walking away this time.

The scent curled through the air, elusive yet sharp enough to set my nerves on edge. It wove between the mingling smells of pine and smoke, sinking its claws into my senses like a predator marking its kill.

My wolf bristled, the tension coiling tighter with every breath. We didn’t just sense danger—we felt hunted.

And I fucking hated it.

I am the hunter on these lands.

The laughter and crackle of the bonfire faded as I slipped deeper into the forest’s shadows. Each movement was calculated, my boots crushing pine needles with muted snaps. The faint glow of the fire lingered behind me as the scent drew me further, each inhale scraping against a memory I couldn’t quite reach. Familiar and foreign. Comfortless.

I crouched low, letting my wolf guide me. The forest was alive with its own rhythm—branches creaking under the weight of the wind, leaves whispering secrets I couldn’t decipher. The moonlight fractured against the canopy, casting shards of silver across the ground. My pulse quickened, but I kept it leashed. Whatever I was chasing, it was close. And it was ready.

Then I saw Sable. Recognized her immediately though her back was to me. The woman from the café with the Heraclid scent who’d led Logan straight into the fight with Grayson that could have ended him.

Maybe that was what she’d wanted all along. And she was back to finish the job.

She stood with her silhouette outlined against the bright moon. I moved in careful silence as I closed the distance between us, hoping to catch her off guard.

My hand clamped down on her arm, hard enough to make her wince as she spun to face me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I growled, my hunter control slipping.

Her gaze locked on to mine, calm, defiant. “Let go.”

“You are in no position to command me,” I snapped.

She inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring as the air around us rippled. My wolf snarled, a warning. Too late.

A shock of energy shot through me, not electric, but a powerful wave reaching deep into my core, spreading outward until it consumed everything. My vision exploded with images—faces, voices.

My brothers .

Wyatt’s smile, faint and worn. Nash’s hollow eyes. They stood before me, real enough to touch, yet fading as quickly as they came. My grip on Sable slackened, my strength folding beneath the weight of the vision. I stumbled back, my breath ragged, and she slipped free.

She hung around as I panted, hands resting on my knees, her head tilted sideways as if she would sprint at any moment.

“What the fuck—” My brothers. The curse. There were answers in her and I had to have them.

At any cost.

But there was a problem. A big fucking problem.

Sable stepped backward, perhaps sensing the explosion inside of me that was half fury, half desperation.

“Don’t follow me,” she spat, as if I had a choice. The pain rushing through my body planted my feet to the ground. I managed a wobbly step forward and a pathetic attempt to grab at her arm again.

Dumb move.

She turned and bolted, her figure melting into the shadows.

“Damn it!” My wolf surged forward. Her scent was on me like a ball and chain.

She vanished, leaving me clutching at empty air and the ghosts she’d pulled from my soul.

She thought she could outrun me. She didn’t understand that I would never leave my brothers out there when she might have the answer. And she couldn’t possibly understand that the second my hand had touched her skin, my wolf had risen like a phoenix with an unending refrain.

And I had a big motherfucking problem.

Possess her. Command her. Claim her.

She ran. I followed.

The chase had begun.

Thank you for reading The Cursed Wolf King! If you loved Logan and Eve’s story, then just you wait until Rhys and Sable’s near-fatal sparks start flying in…