The healing shouldn't have been possible.
I stared down at my shoulder where moments before, torn flesh and silver poison had threatened my life. Now, smooth skin stretched unmarked beneath my torn shirt, not even a scar remaining. The burning agony that had consumed me was nothing more than a memory, as if the silver had never touched me at all.
The howl came again, closer this time, and every nerve in my body went electric.
Something massive moved in the tree line—a shadow darker than the night itself. My breath caught as it stepped into the moonlight, and I found myself looking at a wolf that defied every law of nature I knew.
It was enormous. Twice the size of any Alpha I'd ever seen, with fur so black it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. But it was the eyes that stopped my heart—pure molten gold, ancient and knowing, fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees weak.
The air around the creature shimmered, and then the wolf was gone.
In its place stood a man.
Tall didn't begin to describe him. He towered over the clearing, broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, every line of his body speaking of predatory grace. Dark hair fell across his forehead, framing a face that belonged in old legends—sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and those same impossible golden eyes that seemed to see straight through to my soul.
He wore simple black clothes that did nothing to hide the raw power radiating from him like heat from a forge. This wasn't just an Alpha. This was something far more dangerous.
"You're hurt," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my bones.
I took a step back, my hand instinctively moving to where my wound had been. "I'm fine."
He moved with fluid grace, closing the distance between us in three silent strides. I should have run. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, but my feet remained rooted to the ground as he reached out.
"Let me see," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Before I could protest, his fingers found the tear in my shirt, pulling the fabric aside to reveal the unmarked skin beneath. The moment his fingertip touched my shoulder, electricity shot through me like lightning.
The silver poison—what little remained—evaporated completely. I watched in stunned silence as the last traces of corruption simply vanished under his touch, leaving behind only warmth and a tingling awareness that made my skin hypersensitive.
"How—" I started, but he was already pulling his hand away, leaving my skin burning with the memory of his touch.
"Who did this to you?" His golden eyes had darkened to amber, and there was something lethal in his voice that made my wolf stir for the first time in months.
I opened my mouth to deflect, to lie, to do anything but answer that question. But my wolf—my wolf who had been silent and withdrawn since Ryker's first betrayal—suddenly surged to life inside me.
She threw back her head and howled.
Not in pain or fear, but in recognition. In greeting. As if she'd been waiting her entire life for this moment, for this man, for whatever he represented.
The sound that tore from my throat was purely wolf, wild and primal and completely beyond my control. It echoed through the clearing, answered immediately by a responding howl from the man before me—though his lips never moved.
My wolf's joy was overwhelming, flooding through me with such intensity that I staggered. She knew him. Somehow, impossibly, she knew him.
But I didn't.
And I couldn't trust this feeling, this instant connection that felt too much like the mate bond I'd believed in for seven years. I'd learned that lesson too well, too painfully.
I slammed down on my wolf's reaction, forcing her back into the depths of my mind despite her protests. The effort left me shaking, but I managed to wrench my hand free from where he'd somehow captured my wrist.
"Don't touch me," I gasped, stumbling backward.
He didn't follow, but those golden eyes tracked my every movement. "You're afraid."
It wasn't a question.
"I'm not afraid of you," I lied.
"No," he agreed quietly. "You're afraid of yourself. Of what you felt just now."
The accuracy of his observation hit like a physical blow. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm night air.
"I don't know who you are," I said, proud that my voice remained steady.
"Caspian Voss." The name rolled off his tongue like a challenge. "And you're hiding from your own bloodline, aren't you?"
I froze. "What?"
"Your wolf's reaction. The way the silver poison responded to your touch before I even arrived. The speed of your healing." He tilted his head, studying me with the intensity of a predator evaluating prey. "That's not normal pack wolf behavior, little one."
My heart hammered against my ribs. He was right—I'd never experienced anything like what had just happened. My wolf had never responded to anyone the way she'd responded to him. Even with Ryker, the mate bond had been gentle, warm. This was fire and lightning and something that felt dangerously close to worship.
"I have to go," I said abruptly, backing toward the path that led to the packhouse.
Caspian—because somehow his name had already burned itself into my memory—made no move to stop me. But his voice followed as I turned away.
"You can run, little wolf."
I didn't look back, but I could feel his eyes on me as I stumbled through the underbrush, my newly healed body still unsteady from whatever had just passed between us.
"But your blood has already called to me."
His words sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a recognition I wasn't ready to face.
I needed to get to the packhouse. I needed to find that blood contract I'd discovered last week while cleaning the war room—the one with my name written in what looked suspiciously like actual blood. I needed answers about my own past before I could even begin to process what had just happened in that clearing.
But as I forced my legs to carry me toward home, one truth echoed in my mind with crystal clarity:
Caspian Voss hadn't followed me.
But we both knew I would be back.
