Chapter 3
920 Words
The walk back to the cabin felt longer than the hike out.
No one said much.
The forest had changed — or maybe Linda had. Every snap of a twig sounded deliberate. Every shift of wind felt like it carried a message she couldn’t translate.
Evan stayed slightly behind her now.
Protective.
That irritated her more than it should have.
“I’m not made of glass,” she muttered.
“I know,” Evan replied evenly.
“Then stop walking like I’m about to fall apart.”
His jaw flexed. “It’s not you.”
“It’s always not me,” she said quietly.
Mira shot her a warning look. Not now.
They reached the clearing. The cabin sat warm and harmless in the sun, smoke drifting from the chimney like nothing in the world could go wrong here.
Linda stopped halfway up the steps.
“You knew he’d be out there,” she said.
Mira hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“He patrols near the boundary,” Evan said. “It’s habit.”
“You set this cabin close on purpose,” Linda said softly.
Mira stepped closer. “I set it close because it’s safe. Because if something happens, we’re near help.”
Linda let out a humorless breath. “Help that hates me.”
“That’s not—” Talia started.
“It is,” Linda cut in. Not angry. Just clear. “He said it. He meant it.”
Silence.
Mira reached for her hand. “He lost his mate to a human.”
Linda stiffened slightly. “And that’s my fault?”
“No.”
“But I pay for it.”
Evan stepped forward. “You don’t.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m trespassing just breathing out here?”
That landed.
No one had an answer.
Linda climbed the rest of the steps and went inside.
The afternoon passed heavy.
They tried to recover the mood — cards on the table, music playing low — but something sharp edged every laugh.
Linda stepped outside alone just before dusk.
Not far.
Just to the side of the porch.
She needed air.
The trees were darker now, shadows pooling between trunks. The sky shifted toward gold and violet.
She crossed her arms against the cool breeze and stared toward the ridge.
“I don’t belong,” she murmured to herself.
The words tasted bitter.
A twig snapped somewhere to her right.
She turned slowly.
Nothing.
Just forest.
“Stop being dramatic,” she muttered.
But her pulse ticked faster anyway.
Behind her, the cabin door opened.
Evan stepped out. “You shouldn’t wander.”
She didn’t look at him. “I’m twenty feet from the porch.”
“That’s enough.”
She turned then. “Why does everyone act like I’m prey?”
The word hung between them.
Evan inhaled sharply.
And that’s when it happened.
A sharp c***k of sound — not a twig this time.
A shift.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Both of them froze.
From the tree line to the right, a shape moved low to the ground.
Linda didn’t understand what she was seeing at first.
Then it lifted its head.
Gold eyes.
Focused.
Calculating.
Her blood went cold.
“Evan…” she whispered.
He stepped in front of her instantly.
“Inside,” he ordered.
But it was too late.
The wind shifted.
And the cougar lunged.
Everything exploded at once.
Evan shoved her sideways toward the porch.
The animal hit him mid-air, claws flashing.
Linda screamed.
The sound tore from her throat without permission.
And somewhere deep in the forest—
Nick felt it.
Not the scream.
The snap.
It slammed into him like a physical blow.
A violent ripping in his chest.
A thread pulling tight.
Claiming.
His wolf surged forward with a howl that shook the trees.
Mine.
The word wasn’t a thought.
It was instinct.
It was law.
Nick swore — loud and vicious — because he knew what that meant.
He knew what she was.
He knew what he refused to accept.
And he ran.
Back at the cabin—
Mira shifted first.
Bones cracked.
Fur replaced skin.
Talia followed a heartbeat later.
The cougar recoiled, startled by the sudden explosion of wolves.
Linda scrambled backward, heart hammering.
Evan rolled free, blood on his sleeve but already healing.
The cougar hesitated.
Then another presence crashed into the clearing.
Bigger.
Faster.
Feral with fury.
Nick shifted mid-stride, massive gray wolf slamming into the cougar with bone-jarring force.
The forest erupted in snarls and snapping teeth.
Linda watched — frozen — as muscle and fury collided just feet away.
Nick tore into the cougar with brutal precision.
Not hesitation.
Not warning.
A kill.
The cougar went still.
Silence fell heavy and immediate.
Nick stood over the body, chest heaving.
Blood on his muzzle.
His gaze lifted.
Locked on Linda.
And the world tilted.
For a single suspended second, everything else fell away—the blood, the wolves, the forest.
There was only the space between them.
And something in it pulling tight.
Linda’s breath caught.
Nick felt it like a snap of bone beneath his ribs.
Not pain.
Claim.
Mine.
The word wasn’t spoken.
It wasn’t chosen.
It simply was.
Nick’s expression shifted—not toward anger.
Toward shock.
And something dangerously close to fear.
Linda didn’t understand what had just happened.
But she felt it.
A thread.
A tether.
Alive and burning.
The forest seemed to lean in around them.
And neither of them looked away.
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