Page 28 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
I drop the jersey as if it just burned me.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm standing in a stranger's bedroom, bleeding, hunted, and I'm huffing some random guy's clothes like a drug. I've officially lost my freaking mind.
Voices drift up from outside, angry and demanding. Kyle. I creep to the window, peering out cautiously. In the moonlight, I can make out three figures at the edge of the forest. Kyle's distinctive silhouette stands flanked by Ryan and Rebecca, her red hair standing out like fire in the darkness. They're scanning the grounds, searching.
For me.
I slip out of the bedroom, finding myself in a long hallway lined with doors. This place is huge, even bigger than it looked from outside. The hallway opens onto a grand staircase that spirals down to the first floor. I hesitate, straining my ears for any sound of occupants. The house feels empty, but that doesn't mean it is. Wolves are predators. They know how to wait in silence. They could already be here, and I wouldn't even know.
I quietly descend the stairs, keeping close to the wall where the treads are less likely to creak. The main floor spreads out before me—an open floor plan with various rooms branching off a central area. To my right, what looks like a formal dining room with a massive table. To my left, a spacious kitchen with industrial-sized appliances. Straight ahead, a cavernous space that can only be described as a man cave, complete with an enormous TV that covers an entire wall and antique taxidermy.
Yep. Definitely a frat house.
The testosterone is practically visible in the air.
But that smell again… it isn't at all what I'd expect. The gingerbread scent from upstairs is here, too, but now it mingles with other fragrances. Rich leather. Earth with hints of bourbon. Old books and sandalwood. Four distinct scents, each one appealing in its own way, but somehow harmonious together.
A commotion outside snaps me back to reality. Deep, rumbling growls interspersed with shouting. I move to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to peek through.
Holy shit.
Four enormous wolves have formed a semi-circle facing Kyle, Ryan, and Rebecca. The largest—a midnight black beast with eyes that gleam like ice even in the darkness—stands slightly ahead of the others. A sandy-colored wolf that's built more like a bear and a silver wolf flank him, while a russet-furred wolf circles to the side, cutting off escape routes.
They're magnificent. Nothing like the beast that gave me my scar. These wolves move with purpose, with coordinated intent. Shifters, not mindless animals.
Kyle stands his ground, hands raised before him, crackling with blue lightning that illuminates his face from below. The effect makes him look almost demonic, highlighting the cold fury in his expression. Ryan's hands glow golden, while Rebecca mutters frantically, drawing sigils in the air that shimmer briefly before disappearing.
They're preparing for battle.
Over me.
Chapter
Eight
ROWAN
The witch's scent guides us through the forest like lines pulling fish. My paws strike the earth in silent rhythm, every sense heightened in wolf form. Earth, rain, and wild magic—her fragrance fills my lungs with each breath, embedding itself in my memory.
I'd recognize it anywhere now.
Follow it to the ends of the earth if necessary.
Our pack moves with practiced unity, Micah scouting ahead while I flank Killian opposite Sean. I've never felt our pack leader this focused, this possessed by singular purpose. Through our telepathic pack bond, his thoughts thunder with protective rage, primal and consuming.
She's frightened, I project, analyzing the nuances in her scent trail.Exhausted too.
We already know she's injured. I can smell her blood.
I'll kill them, Sean's thoughts burst through, unusually dark for our normally jovial packmate.Whoever's hunting her. I'll rip their throats out.
Focus, Killian commands.We need to know who these magic-users are and what they want with her first.
I parse through the competing scents, cataloging what I detect.Three witch signatures. All part of the same coven. Their magic is harmonized. Old power structures. Hierarchy. The leader smells like an arrogant thunderstorm.
My wolf has always possessed the most sensitive nose in our pack, able to detect subtleties others miss. In human form, I'm the quiet analytical one, the engineering student. In wolf form, I'm the tracker, the one who finds what others lose.
Now, every instinct I possess tells me we're closing in on something precious beyond measure.
