Page 12 of The Fated Hunter Wolf
The bond between us flared, his fury crashing into me like a wave, nearly knocking me off-balance. Beneath the rage was something else, buried deep.
Logan, I sent through the bond.You’re my brother. Whatever this is, we’ll carry it together. You don’t get to burn alone. What happened?
His body shook, the fight between man and wolf visible in every line of him. Slowly, his shoulders sagged under the weight of his grief.
“She’s pregnant,” he rasped. His knees buckled, and I caught him before he hit the ground. “At least, she was.”
The bond went silent for a beat, the room shrinking around us, and the weight of his pain slammed into me with a force I wasn’t sure I could bear.
There hadn’t been a single birth in Orion in over six years.
6
SABLE
Ihad to get this burning gone. The silver thread I’d worked on for hours wouldn’t hold.
I stared at the bowl of rainwater on my floor, watching my magic dissolve for the third time this morning. The delicate work of scrying with silver magic required patience I didn’t possess today, focus that kept scattering every time the wind shifted and brought new scents through the gaps in my walls. I’d never been able to use silver magic at will, though I knew it had the potential to unlock powers that I would need in the future. Every time I rescued a Crux, I was pushing the limit of my skills. If only I could really control the silver, I was sure it would change things for good.
Today, though, a week since this pain in my gut had started, a week since that regrettable moment with a soulless wolf, I didn’t stand a chance with it.
Something’s coming.
My wolf had been restless since dawn, pacing circles in my chest that matched the ones I’d worn in the rough wooden floor. The Crux bond showed nothing unusual—seven consciousnesses scattered across three nearby states, all quiet, all safe. Astridhunting rabbits two miles east. Others sleeping or working or learning to trust the havens I’d helped them find.
I abandoned the scrying bowl and moved to the window, pressing my eye to the gap between the curtains. Rain had been falling since midnight, turning the forest floor into black mud that would hold tracks and scents longer than I’d have liked. Through the downpour, visibility extended maybe thirty yards before the trees swallowed everything in gray-green shadow.
Empty. Quiet. Normal.
Then why does my skin feel two sizes too small?
The hut creaked, a symphony of settling wood and dripping water I’d learned to read over the years of hiding here. Every sound meant something—wind direction, animal movement, the difference between raccoons and intruders. Today, the familiar noises felt off-tempo without really changing.
I moved away from the window and tried the silver magic again, this time focusing on protection rather than divination. The threads formed more easily, weaving themselves into barriers that would alert me to approaching threats. Even as I worked, part of my mind catalogued escape routes, weapon locations, the exact number of seconds it would take to reach Astrid through the bond if everything went sideways.
Always planning for disaster. Always expecting the worst.
The first time I felt this draw to protect—this instinct deeper than anything my wolf had ever known—was when I sensed Astrid. I was barely more than a kid. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, and stupid enough to think I could take on the world with my bare hands.
The Canisse pack had her, locked in the back of a van like some animal they were planning to parade around. They didn’t know they had a Crux, but I did. I could feel it in Astrid, even from a distance. That spark, that quiet power. It was a hallmark of the Crux scent, for those of us who didn’t know how to mask it.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
The motorcade had been moving fast, too fast for me to keep up on foot. I shifted, my wolf tearing through the trees. When I caught up, I didn’t have a plan. It turned out, I didn’t need one, as my wolf instinctually knew the next step. I lunged at the lead vehicle, sending it skidding into the ditch. Shifting back, I tore open the van’s back doors and pulled her out before the rest of the convoy even knew what hit them.
She’d stared at me like I was some kind of goddess, her wide eyes filled with more disbelief than gratitude. And then, when we were far enough away that we could breathe again, she said something I’d never forgot.
“I’ve never seen an enforcer do anything like that before.”
Enforcer. Pieces fell into place with those words, my wolf preening as she acknowledged it too. I was an enforcer of the Crux pack.
Years of relative peace hadn’t softened those instincts. If anything, they’d sharpened them, honed by the constant awareness that safety was temporary and sanctuary was an illusion.
The footsteps on my porch proved me right.
Predator.
My wolf surged to attention, and I was moving before conscious thought caught up. Silver magic crackled around my fingers, ready to strike, while I mentally reached for Astrid through our bond.
