Chapter 4: Back to the Wolf’s Den
1287 Words
Crossing the border felt like stepping into my own grave.
Not the dramatic kind. No thunder, no flash of recognition from the trees. Just that cold snap in my gut that whispered: *You don’t belong here anymore.*
And maybe I didn’t.
Shadowridge wasn’t mine now. Hadn’t been for six years. Not since I vanished in the dead of night with nothing but a pack on my back and three lives growing inside me.
Still, the earth remembered me.
The moment I passed the ridge line, my bond stirred—faint, rusty, but there. Lucien’s territory was layered in ancestral magic. Old soil, old roots, and old wounds. My skin itched like it wanted to crawl off my bones.
A rogue crossing back into her old pack’s land wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It was supposed to be a death sentence. Yet every step I took, the land *let me in.*
Not welcomed.
Just… watched.
I cut through the outer woods, avoiding the main roads. I didn’t need a welcoming party. Especially not one with teeth.
The closer I got, the worse it got—memories surfacing like rot from under snow. The scent of tree sap and cold pine. The faint shimmer of wards woven into the earth. The hum of the leyline that ran beneath the ridge, tugging at my bones like it remembered my blood.
Every instinct screamed to turn back.
But instinct hadn’t gotten my kids back last time.
This time, I needed something else.
I needed the Alpha.
I caught sight of the packhouse just past the final tree line—still massive, still made to intimidate. Logs and stone, like nature had decided to build a fortress. The same place he’d rejected me.
The same steps I’d run down, half-shifted, blood dripping down my thighs from the shock of what I’d just learned.
I stopped twenty feet from the gate.
The wind shifted.
Voices drifted over.
Laughter.
Children.
Pack life, rolling on like nothing ever changed.
I hated how badly it hit me.
Because once, that was supposed to be mine.
I took another step.
Then the scent hit me.
Lucien.
Crisp, electric, unmistakable.
I wasn’t ready.
Didn’t matter.
He was already at the gate when I rounded the bend. Dressed in dark grey, no guards, no ceremony—just him. And his eyes.
Those damn eyes.
Blue steel. The kind that cut and never dulled.
He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to.
I kept walking.
The gate creaked open.
I stepped through.
Everything in me clenched—wolf and woman both. It felt wrong and too familiar at the same time.
“You’re late,” he said.
“For what? A six-year-old conversation?” I snapped.
His jaw twitched. “You said we were going to talk.”
“No. I said we were going to *find them.* Talking is optional.”
Lucien stepped aside to let me through. As I passed, his scent flooded me. Familiar. Wrong. Right. Everything at once.
The packhouse interior was warm. Cozy, even. Firelight flickered along the walls. Someone was cooking. The scent of roast meat curled through the air.
It was domestic. Settled.
A life I never got to live.
I hated how my stomach growled.
“Follow me,” Lucien said, voice low.
I didn’t answer. Just moved. Past rooms I remembered, through corridors I used to know blindfolded. Some things had changed. Some hadn’t.
We stopped in his office.
It hadn’t changed at all.
Big desk. Shelves lined with old books, artifacts from hunts. Maps. The chair I used to straddle while he—
I forced the memory down hard.
He closed the door behind us.
“I want the full truth,” he said, voice tight. “Now.”
I dropped into the nearest chair and met his gaze. “You got the first part. You’re a father. Triplets. Calen, Maris, and Elara. Born six months after I left.”
His mouth opened. Closed.
He swallowed hard.
“Triplets.”
“Yes.”
He ran his hand through his hair, gave me that look. You know the one. Yeah, like he was hoping I’d explain everything, but had no idea where to start. Just kind of hanging there, stuck.
. ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’’ Just said it, straight out.
I leaned in, voice sharp as hell. “You made your choice, Lucien. You humiliated me. Rejected me in front of your entire council. Told me I wasn’t strong enough to stand at your side.”
“That wasn’t—”
“Spare me the excuses. You cut the bond. You cut *me.* I was bleeding, barely holding it together, and pregnant with *your* children.”
His face crumpled—just for a second.
Then it hardened again.
“I would’ve taken responsibility.”
“Exactly,” I said. “You would’ve claimed them out of *duty.* Not love. Not trust. And not because you believed in *me.* That’s not good enough.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then he asked quietly, “Are they safe?”
“They were. Until last night.”
I handed him the note again. This time, he studied it like it might bleed if he stared hard enough.
“You should have told him,” he read aloud. “Now it’s too late.”
His gaze lifted. “Who wrote this?”
“If I actually knew, trust me, we wouldn’t be stuck here like this.”
Lucien looked down. “This is pack ink. Not ours. But familiar.”
“Rival?” I asked.
“Possibly. Selene’s people, maybe.”
Of course.
His pretty, polished Luna-to-be.
“You think your fiancée kidn*pped our children?” I asked, voice dripping venom.
“I think someone wants to control the Alpha line,” he said, dead serious. “And my heirs—our heirs—just became targets.”
I flinched.
Our heirs.
It wasn’t just a phrase.
It was a declaration.
“I never asked you to call them that,” I muttered.
“They are what they are.”
I stood, pacing now, fists clenched. “So what now? You going to call the council? Put together a search party?”
“No,” he said. “Too risky.”
“Then what?”
His eyes locked on mine.
“We go alone.”
“You and me.”
He nodded. “Like old times.”
I scoffed. “The old times ended with you shattering my ribs from the inside.”
Lucien stepped forward, just one pace. “And I’ve regretted it every day since.”
There it was.
The c***k.
And it hit harder than it should’ve.
Because the truth was—I’d thought about this moment. Over and over. What I’d say. What I’d scream. How I’d cut him down with every ounce of fury I’d stored in my chest for six long years.
But standing here, with the weight of my missing children clawing at my spine, I didn’t have the luxury of hate.
I had a war to plan.
Didn’t even get the chance to say anything. The door just crashed open behind us, loud and sudden.
Selene was just standing there, eyebrow up, arms crossed, got that look like she’s been waiting forever for this exact thing to happen. She doesn’t even have to say anything, you can just tell.
‘‘Sorry to interrupt,’’ she said, her voice cold enough to sting. ‘‘Looks like your ghost finally showed up.’’
Lucien stepped between us instinctively.
But I was already moving.
“Try me,” I said.
And for the first time since returning to Shadowridge, I let the wolf rise in my eyes.
- Writer
