EPISODE 15: LURKS BEYOND THE BOUNDARY
659 Words
Nyra POV
Rowan’s words lingered in the air long after the forest fell silent.
Next time… we will be ready for everything.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe myself.
But the territory didn’t feel finished with us.
The pack regrouped quickly, the wolves shifting back into human form under the cover of thick trees. Blood, sweat, and adrenaline clung to the air. Some were scratched, others limping, but alive. Barely.
Rowan sat against the trunk of an old ash tree while one of the healers knelt beside him. His jaw was tight, eyes never still, tracking every shadow even as hands pressed herbs against his wounds.
I hovered close, restless.
The guilt hadn’t loosened its grip on my chest. Every flash of his blood on the forest floor replayed in my mind. Every moment I’d let my instincts outrun my awareness.
“They didn’t come to conquer,” I said quietly, scanning the dark tree line. “That wasn’t a takeover.”
Rowan’s eyes flicked at me. “No.”
“They were testing us.”
A low murmur rippled through the pack.
Rowan nodded once. “Testing our response time. Our coordination. Our weak points.”
Me, my wolf growled.
I swallowed. “They knew where to strike. They knew when to retreat.”
“And they knew exactly how to bait you,” Rowan said calmly—but there was no accusation now. Just truth.
My fists clenched. “Then next time they won’t.”
The healer finished bandaging Rowan’s side, stepping back. “He shouldn’t fight again tonight.”
Rowan was already standing.
“I don’t have that luxury.”
Before I could argue, a sharp howl sliced through the night—short, urgent, panicked. It came from the eastern boundary. Too close. Far too close.
Every wolf in the clearing stiffened.
“That’s a scout,” someone said.
Rowan’s gaze hardened. “They didn’t retreat.”
My wolf surged forward, teeth bared, blood singing in my veins. “They’re still inside the territory.”
“No,” Rowan corrected slowly. “They’re deeper.”
The realization hit like a blow.
The collectors weren’t done.
They had wanted us distracted. Spread thin. Chasing shadows.
And now—
Another howl echoed, cut off abruptly.
Silence followed.
Dead silence.
Rowan grabbed my arm before I could move. His grip was firm, grounding. “Listen to me,” he said low. “This time, you don’t charge. You stay aware. You will stay with me.”
I met his eyes, really met them. Not the Alpha. Not the warrior.
The man who had taken a blade meant for me.
“I will,” I said, and meant it.
We shifted together, wolves tearing free under the moonlight. Power rolled through me, steadier now, sharper. My wolf wasn’t frantic anymore—she was focused.
We ran.
The forest blurred past as we followed the broken scent trail—fear, blood, foreign wolves. When we reached the clearing near the ravine, the sight stopped us cold.
The scout lay crumpled against the rocks, alive but barely conscious.
And standing over him—
Not a pack.
Not hunters.
Just one collector.
Bigger than the others. Darker. Its eyes glowed with intelligence that made my fur bristle. This wasn’t a soldier.
It was a message.
The collector lifted its head slowly, gaze locking onto mine, and smiled.
A twisted, knowing smile.
“You’re learning,” they said, voice rough but unmistakably aware. “But you’re already too late.”
Rowan stepped forward, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest. “Leave our land.”
The collector’s smile widened.
“The boundary no longer protects you.”
The moon slipped behind a cloud, plunging the clearing into shadow.
And for the first time that night, fear curled beneath my ribs—not wild, not reckless—
Cold.
Calculated.
Because whatever the collectors were planning…
This breach was only the beginning.
- Writer
