She Says When

Chapter Three

Aiden

The sun hasn’t fully risen, but most of my pack is already awake. Ravendale pack members are punctual, which is just the way I like it. I’m watching from the cliffside as wolves move across the training ground—sparring, shifting, and pushing each other harder with every blow. The sound of bodies colliding echoes through the dense valley. I don’t flinch. Hell, I’ve heard worse than this.

I stand still, arms crossed, eyes focused. The wind has a bite to it as it rustles past, but I like it. The chill keeps them alert. My beta, Easton, stands nearby, watching and waiting. He won’t speak until I do and we take training seriously. A younger wolf slams the down hard, snow bursts around him as he hits the ground. He lets out a low yelp and scrambles back to his feet.

Wrong.

“Again,” I say, still watching.

Easton clears his throat. “No signs of movement from the southern ridge. Patrols rotated without issue. A few of the younger ones pushed their drills longer this morning.”

I nod once, eyes still on the ring. “Keep them tired.”

He doesn’t respond, because he doesn’t need to. I shove my hands into my pockets and walk down the slope, boots hitting packed snow and gravel. Wolves straighten up when they see me and a few shift back into human form–wiping sweat from their brows. I move through the sparring ring slowly, watching each stance, shift of weight, and careless twitch. One of them drops his back heel when he pivots.

“Reset,” I say dryly.

He adjusts.

“Again.”

He grits his teeth and does it again.

“Again.”

He resets five times before he finally gets it right and I move on without a word.

An Elite warrior steps forward, jaw tight and stance solid. “Permission to challenge, Alpha.”

I look him over once, raising a brow. “Granted.”

Everyone else clears the sparring ring–watching from the sidelines. I nod slightly and so does he. We circle each other and he strikes first, but not fast enough. I sidestep and catch his shoulder with my palm. He stumbles but doesn’t fall.

This is too f*****g easy. How disappointing.

He tries again, aiming for my ribs. I duck and drive my elbow into his stomach. His breath leaves him with a grunt. He recovers, shifting into his stance. His weight’s off, but I don’t warn him. He should know better by now. He hits the ground hard, coughing into the dirt and snow. He starts to rise, but I’m already behind him. My hand closes around the back of his neck.

“Yield,” I say.

He does. I step over him and keep walking. Easton and I head back inside, where our Gamma, Joel, is waiting. The conference room is quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper or click of a pen. My attention is on the map in the center of the table. My fingers trace the eastern border, eyes narrowing as I study the markings on the latest report. Easton, Joel, and an elite warrior sit nearby, each reviewing their own sets of logs. I don’t speak right away, because all I want are facts.

“Five sightings near the ridge this week,” Easton says, his voice calm but tight. “Too far out to confirm rogue intent, but close enough to report.”

I glance up. “Same wolves each time?”

He shakes his head. “No, they all have different descriptions. Which either means coincidence… or rotation.”

I lean back slightly in the chair. “They’re watching.”

One of the younger warriors, Nolan, clears his throat. “It could be scouting… or pressure from Cinderfall.” He doesn’t look up when he says it.

My hand stops moving and an eerie silence spreads through the room.

He finally lifts his eyes, meeting mine for a second. “We’ve had peace for three years, but peace doesn’t mean trust,” he says. I stay still, letting the weight of the moment settle.

“Any more unverified theories?” I ask, but no one answers.

I return to the map, dragging my finger across a mark near the northern line.

My voice stays even. “Double the patrols along the ridge. Anyone seen near the border doesn’t get a warning.”

Easton nods once. “Understood.”

We’re halfway through the report summaries when Joel leans forward, elbows sitting on the table.

“Word is Cinderfall’s been hunting near Ridgewater,” he says, dryly.

I don’t react, instead I reach for a pen and mark a spot on the eastern edge of the map.

Joel clears his throat, shifting in the chair. “Could be nothing,” he adds quickly. “Could be a warning.”

I still don’t look at him. “They don’t warn,” I snarl, annoyed.

My Gamma tenses across from me, eyes flicking to Easton.

“They haven’t crossed the line,” Easton says carefully. “But they’re close.”

I finally lean back, eyes scanning the border again. “Close is enough.”

No one moves or speaks.

“Quiet drills tonight,” I say. “Minimal sound, full pressure. I want every warrior able to shift without a command. If they’re baiting us, we won’t give them a reason—unless I say so.”

“Yes, Alpha,” they answer in unison.

I dismiss them and throw my head back–running a hand through my hair. They think this is about territory, and they’re wrong. It’s about timing. A loud knock hits the door and I look back over my shoulder.

Easton walks back in. “He would like to speak with you,” he says, nodding back to a pack member.

I stand to my feet immediately as he approaches. There is a small hairline cut on his right cheekbone.

“Report,” I say.

“Movement near the ridge and it’s not rogues, they’re too organized,” the scout says. “They didn’t spot me, but I counted at least six. No scent trails left behind.”

I glance at Easton. “Stay vigilant, confirm their direction and don’t engage.”

“Yes, Alpha,” he replies.

I walk toward the map again, marking the ridge with a black X. If Cinderfall’s testing us, they’re asking for a f*****g fight they don’t want.

I don’t like this.

I pace once, stop, and pace again. I open the door and see Joel still waiting outside.

“Send a second scout team, Joel, pick them yourself.”

He nods and stands without hesitation. Easton stays behind, still watching me.

“You’re thinking it too,” I say, voice low.

“That this wasn’t random?” he replies.

I nod once.

Easton leans forward, voice quieter now. “If they’re coordinating this far out, someone’s giving orders and it’s not a patrol leader.”

I press my hand flat on the map. “Cinderfall wouldn’t push unless they thought we were distracted.”

“We’re not.”

“No,” I agree. “They think we are.”

There’s a moment of silence before Easton speaks again. “You think it’s about the girl?”

My jaw tightens. “Everything is.”

Easton clears his throat. “They need to just move the f**k on from it.”

I nod again.

“Fat chance in hell of that ever happening,” I reply.

“It was a long time ago.”

I raise a brow but don't argue. I stare at the map again, eyes dragging across the border between our land and theirs.

“They’re not ready for what’s coming.” I shrug.

Easton doesn’t answer, because he knows I’m right. I walk toward the window and stare out at the ridge. A thin layer of snow clings to the trees beyond the border. The wind shifts. Cold air blows through, and I lean against the frame.

Easton brushes off his sleeves. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” I say flatly.

He nods and leaves. I wait until the door clicks shut before I exhale. The room is quiet, but my mind isn’t. Every patrol report, every delayed sighting—it’s stacking. Cinderfall doesn’t send scouts unless they want something. They’re pushing, not with force, but with patience and intent. I move back toward the table, flipping open the eastern file again. It's too damn clean and careful. Whoever’s behind this is smart enough not to leave evidence. That is more than f*****g concerning. They're not reacting. They’re preparing.

The map in front of me shows a line they haven’t crossed yet, but I know that kind of restraint doesn’t last. Not from Cinderfall. Not from wolves raised on fire and vendettas.

Something’s shifting and it has been for months. I just don’t know what.

I press my knuckles into the wood, tension releasing as they pop. There’s no warning before bloodshed in a place like this. Let them test me, and wait. I’m not blind or slow, besides my pack could end theirs. If they’re dumb enough to think Ravendale’s gotten soft, I’ll bury the first one who crosses that line.

Mark my f*****g words.