I Didn’t Know He Wasn’t Human

Chapter Forty-Six: The First Strike

The eastern ridge glowed faintly under the moonlight, the snow reflecting shadows that should not have been there. Freya stood beside Zev, every nerve taut, bond thrumming with warning. Whoever had sent that signal was bold, reckless, and dangerous, but more than that, they were close. Too close.

Zev’s hands rested lightly on her hips, grounding her while scanning the ridge. The Alpha instincts were razor-sharp, every muscle coiled, every sense alert. Freya felt the heat in his gaze even before he spoke.

Stay behind me, he murmured. Not because I don’t trust you, but because you’re my mate. And my mate deserves protection.

Her pulse quickened, part fear, part anticipation, part desire. I’m not just staying behind. I’m with you, she said firmly, letting the bond guide her movements. Together.

A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in the insignia of their own pack, but the way they moved, calculated and silent, betrayed familiarity. Zev’s growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating through the bond.

Freya’s breath caught. Someone we know, she thought. Someone we trust.

The figure stopped at the edge of the ridge, revealing a message etched in the snow. Zev moved first, stepping forward, claws retracting, eyes narrowed. The message was simple but chilling: “Tonight you choose, or lose everything.”

Freya’s stomach twisted. The traitor wasn’t just meddling; they were daring them, taunting them.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement erupted from the treeline. Snow flew as rival pack scouts tried to breach the perimeter. Zev shifted, moving fluidly, taking command. Freya stayed close, instinctively mirroring his movements, the bond making them a single, seamless unit.

Hands brushed, hips pressed briefly in the heat of combat, every touch amplified by the bond, every glance a promise, every motion a declaration of trust and desire. Freya’s heart raced, part terror, part exhilaration, part the burning need she felt whenever she was near him.

After the skirmish, which ended with the rival scouts retreating, Zev pulled Freya close, breathing heavy, eyes dark with intensity. That was only a warning, he said, voice rough with restrained anger. The real strike is coming.

Freya’s pulse quickened. And the traitor?

Zev’s jaw tightened. Someone we’ve trusted completely. Someone in the council.

The weight of his words hung in the cold night air, chilling and electrifying all at once. Freya pressed against him instinctively, letting the bond flare, grounding them both. Whatever comes, she whispered, we face it together.