*Kieran*
The broken camera sat on the table like a wound.
Its plastic shell was cracked, one corner snapped clean off. Mud streaked its face. The sensor was smashed.
But the memory card slot gaped…empty.
Sage’s scent spiked with fear.
“That model auto-writes to the card every time it detects motion,” she said, voice tight. “It would have been recording up until it was destroyed. If I left it armed, there could be…photos. Of…you. Or your wolves. Or…”
“Or nothing,” Rafe cut in quickly. “Could be it died in the cold last week and some hiker stomped it just for kicks.”
Edda snorted from her perch on the counter. “You’re terrible at comfort.”
“Do you remember arming it,” I asked Sage. “That night. Before I—”
Shifted in front of you like an idiot.
She closed her eyes, brow furrowing.
“I…I think so,” she said. “I always arm it before I climb up. Habit. But that day I was distracted. I’d been tracking Blue Tag and the juveniles all afternoon. They were…weird. Jumpy. Like they’d scented something. By the time I got to the tower, I was more focused on getting eyes on them than on my gear checklist.”
“So maybe you didn’t,” Rafe said. “Maybe it was off. No harm. No foul.”
“Or maybe I did,” she said. “And now some random poacher has a front-row seat to…magic.”
Mara leaned over the table, fingers brushing the cracked plastic.
“This wasn’t done by one of ours,” she murmured. “Too…haphazard. We don’t stomp. We tear.”
“Boot tread?” I asked.
She nodded. “Deep. Heavy. Someone…large. Or loaded down.”
“A hunter,” Kellan rumbled from his post by the hearth. “Or a ranger.”
“Rangers don’t trash federal equipment,” Sage said automatically. “Even if they hate what it’s for.”
Rafe arched a brow. “You met Brian from the north office? Guy who thinks wolves eat patriotism for breakfast? He’d happily smash this to pieces.”
She grimaced. “Point taken. But he’d also leave it. As a ‘lesson.’ Not pocket the memory card like a raccoon with a shiny trinket.”
“Whoever took it knew it had value,” Mara said. “They recognized it as…data.”
Sage swallowed. “There’s a rancher,” she said slowly. “Kurt Darnell. He’s been…vocal. About his…displeasure with the reintroduction.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Edda muttered. “He’s the one who left the coyote on your porch, right?”
Sage’s eyes flicked to her. “How did you—”
“We see more than you think,” Edda said.
Sage shivered.
“Kurt has three trail cams of his own,” she continued, pushing past it. “He’s always complaining about ‘big government spying on his land.’ But he’s obsessed with what my cameras pick up. He tried to ‘borrow’ one once.” Air quotes. “‘Just to see what’s out there.’ I told him to…go away. Politely. He didn’t take it well.”
“Define ‘not well,’” I said.
“He implied he’d be keeping an eye on my equipment,” she said. “You know. To make sure it wasn’t recording anything ‘unapproved.’”
Rafe cursed softly. “So he knows what these are. He knows where you put them. And he doesn’t like you.”
“And he really doesn’t like wolves,” Sage said. “Real ones. He’d lose his mind over you.”
“Maybe he already has,” Edda said.
Silence.
The implications settled over us like fresh snow.
If a human hunter had footage of a partial shift—even blurred, even from a distance—it was bad.
If he had footage of one of ours in full wolf form doing something…unnatural? Worse.
If he had footage of me becoming…
I tamped the thought down.
“What’s the radius,” I asked Sage. “From your tower to where Rafe found this.”
She chewed her lip. “Three miles south puts it near the old logging road. That’s inside the buffer zone, but still technically public access. Hikers, hunters, joyriders. Lots of potential culprits.”
“Anyone else know about your research site?” Mara asked. “Beyond your office.”
“A few locals,” she said. “The rangers. A couple of the friendlier ranchers. The…less friendly ones have probably heard rumors. I tried to keep a low profile, but…” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s hard to hide a tower on a hill.”
“Cassian,” Kellan growled.
Sage blinked. “You think *he* took it?”
“No,” I said slowly. “He wouldn’t recognize the value of the camera itself. He doesn’t trust human tech. But if he scented someone sniffing around…if he followed…”
“…he could have watched the hunter take it,” Rafe finished. “And decided to let the human do the dirty work for him.”
“Or nudged him,” Mara said softly. “Whispered in dreams. Twisted luck. Magic isn’t always…big. Sometimes it’s just a nudge.”
Sage shuddered. “You can do that?”
“Some can,” Mara said. “Not me. Not like that. But there are old bloodlines…old tricks. Minds can be…tilted. Gently.”
“Awesome,” Sage muttered. “Mind control on top of shapeshifting. Totally fine. My rational brain is doing great.”
I raked a hand through my hair.
“Okay,” I said. “We have three problems. One, a human has a card. Two, Northridge is too close for comfort. Three, Sage is tethered to a research project that’s about to get a lot more attention if some idiot rancher starts waving ‘wolf man’ photos at the local news.”
“Four,” Edda added. “Your human friend in Bozeman is already suspicious.”
Sage flinched.
“She trusts me,” she said quietly. “For now.”
“Trust can turn fast,” Mara said. “If this rancher starts screaming about monsters, she’ll come to you. She’ll ask. She’ll *press.*”
Sage nodded once, jaw clenched. “Then we need to get the card back before Kurt—or whoever—takes the photos off it.”
“Can you do that,” I asked. “Without blowing your cover. Or ours.”
She hesitated.
“In theory,” she said. “Kurt’s place is…chaos. Dogs, kids, ATVs. He leaves gear lying around. If I ‘drop by’ under the guise of…community outreach, I might be able to…check his setup. See if he’s got any…new additions.”
“You mean break into his house while he’s not looking and steal your card,” Edda said, impressed. “I like this plan.”
“It’s not…breaking in if the door’s unlocked,” Sage muttered.
“Humans and their legal lines,” Rafe said.
“You’re not going alone,” I said.
She bristled. “It’ll be easier if I do. He won’t talk if he thinks I brought backup. He already thinks I’m some ‘government spy.’”
“You *are* a government spy,” Rafe pointed out.
“Not for this,” she shot back.
I cut in before it could escalate. “You don’t know what you’re walking into, Sage. If Cassian’s already sniffing around, if he’s manipulated this rancher, there could be more than human teeth waiting.”
She met my gaze, chin up. “You’re not wrong. But you also can’t walk into his yard in broad daylight. Neither can Rafe or Kellan. You all look like…you.”
“Rude,” Rafe said.
“You stand out,” she said. “Like…lumberjack underwear models. This town talks. A lot. If a bunch of new ‘outdoorsy types’ show up right before some wild footage hits the rumor mill, people are going to start connecting dots.”
“Then we send Edda,” Kellan said. “She can pass as local.”
“I *am* local,” Edda sniffed. “And no offense, Sage, but I do stealth better than you. You crunch every twig in a fifty-foot radius.”
“I’ve improved,” Sage protested.
“Barely,” Edda said.
They were both right.
Sage had gotten better at moving through the forest in the last few days. Her steps were lighter. She’d stopped talking to herself out loud as much. But she was still human—loud, bright, her scent a beacon.
“I know how Kurt thinks,” Sage said stubbornly. “I know how to talk to him. How to…deflect. You don’t.”
“I know how to deal with threats,” I said. “He is one.”
“This is my mess,” she shot back. “My career. My equipment. My data. Let me fix it.”
“You’re pack now,” Kellan rumbled.
She froze.
“I’m not,” she said quietly. “You keep saying that. But I’m not.”
Kellan frowned. “You’re under the Alpha’s protection. You live in our den. You hunted Cassian with us, stood on old ground. That makes you—”
“Other packs have…structures,” Mara cut in soothingly. “Gradations. Guests. Allies. We don’t have a word for what she is yet.”
“Problem,” Rafe said.
“Opportunity,” Edda countered.
“Liability,” Kellan muttered.
“Enough,” I snapped.
They fell silent.
I turned back to Sage.
“You’re not going alone,” I said again, quieter but no less firm.
She glared. “You don’t get to—”
“Yes,” I said. “I do. I’m not doing it to…control you. Or because I think you’re incapable. I’m doing it because if something happens to you out there—” My throat tightened. “Cassian wins. We lose. And I don’t…I’m not willing to roll those dice.”
Her expression flickered.
“Fine,” she said. “Compromise. You send someone who knows how to be invisible. Edda. Rafe. Hell, Mara, if she can handle his ‘women should be in the kitchen’ bullshit without turning him into a toad.”
“I could,” Mara murmured.
“And *I* go as myself,” Sage continued. “Knock on the door. Make small talk. Drink his terrible coffee. You stay…close. Close enough that if something goes sideways, you’re there. But not so close that you spook him.”
“You want me in the trees,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “Lurking. Menacing. Doing your…Alpha Batman thing.”
“Alpha…what,” Rafe said, delighted.
“Forget it,” Sage muttered.
I considered it.
On paper—a paper written by someone who hadn’t spent the last week watching this woman’s every microexpression—it was a terrible plan. Too many variables. Too many moving parts.
But she was right about one thing: she knew human predators better than we did. And Kurt Darnell was, in his own way, an apex.
“Fine,” I said. “We do it your way. With my…adjustments.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Which are?”
“No one goes inside the house,” I said. “Not unless you’re sure there’s an emergency. Edda will circle the property in fur, check for Cassian’s scent. Rafe will stay at the road, watch for vehicles. If you so much as feel a hair on your neck stand up, you say the code word and walk out.”
“Code word,” she repeated.
“Something you wouldn’t normally say,” I said. “In a casual conversation.”
“Like ‘werewolf,’” Rafe suggested.
“No,” Mara and I said in unison.
Sage’s mouth curved. “‘Banana hammock,’” she said.
Edda choked. “Please use that one.”
Kellan made a face. “What is that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rafe said. “But definitely use that one.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine,” I muttered. “Banana hammock. You say it, we pull you out. Fast.”
She nodded, eyes bright.
“You sure about this,” I asked one last time.
“No,” she said. “But I’m going anyway.”
Of course she was.
That was one of the things I—
Liked.
Respected.
Was going to get gray hair over.
“Get your jacket,” I said. “We leave at dusk.”
***
The Darnell ranch sprawled along the valley floor like a wound.
From our vantage point on the ridge, half-hidden in the pines, I could see rusting equipment scattered in the fields, skeletal hay bales slumped under thin tarps, fences in various stages of disrepair. A farmhouse squatted near the center—two stories, peeling white paint, green roof patched with mismatched shingles.
Three pickup trucks sat in the gravel drive. Two old, one newer. Mud caked the tires. A sagging porch swing creaked in the evening wind.
Cows huddled near a frozen stock pond, breath steaming.
The whole place reeked of neglect and stubbornness.
Sage crouched beside me, breath puffing white.
“See the camera?” she whispered.
I scanned the eaves, the fence posts, the trees. Two of Kurt’s units were obvious—cheap motion-sensors bolted haphazardly to posts near the back pasture.
“No,” I murmured.
She pointed with her chin. “There. Near the barn roofline. That one’s newer. Higher res. More expensive than his usual.”
I squinted.
She was right.
“Bought since you set up your tower?” I asked.
“Yep,” she said. “Interesting coincidence.”
Edda’s voice brushed my mind, a wolf’s growl translated into thought.
*No Northridge near the house. Faint scent near the road. Old. Day, maybe two.*
*Stay sharp anyway,* I sent back.
*Always,* she replied.
Rafe shifted his weight on the other side of Sage, the faintest crunch of snow. In fur, he was mottled gray and brown, blending into the shadows like bark.
“When you go down,” I said quietly to Sage, “remember: you’re in control. He can’t force you into his house. He can’t force you to answer questions you don’t want to.”
“You clearly haven’t met Kurt,” she muttered. “He thinks ‘no’ is a suggestion.”
“I’m serious,” I said. “If he crowds you, you step back. If he touches you, you break his fingers.”
She snorted softly. “I’m flattered you think I can break his fingers.”
“I’ll show you how,” I said. “Later.”
“Romantic,” she murmured.
“Be careful,” I said.
She glanced at me.
Her eyes lingered on my face for a heartbeat.
Then she nodded, pulled her hood up, and started down the game trail.
Moving through the open made every instinct in me snarl. She was a bright, warm, fragile shape against the snow, a target for any predator with eyes.
But she walked with her head high, steps sure. No flinching. No hesitation.
Pride. Fear. Lust. All tangled.
I shifted, fur bursting under my skin with a rush of heat and pain. Bones lengthened, skin stretched, the world sharpening into scent and sound and colorless edges.
By the time Sage reached the fence line, I was on four legs in the shadow of the trees, breath steaming in rhythm with hers.
She unlatched the gate like she’d done it a hundred times.
She probably had.
A dog barked.
Not one of us.
Border collie mix, from the sound. Medium-sized. Nervy.
It raced toward her, hackles up, bark bouncing off the farmhouse walls.
“Easy, Patch,” Sage called. “It’s just me.”
He slowed, sniffed, tail hesitating.
Then he wagged, circling her legs, barking still but higher-pitched.
I bared my teeth in automatic response.
*Relax,* Rafe murmured in my head. *He likes her.*
*He can still bite,* I snarled.
*So can you,* Edda said. *Focus, Alpha.*
The front door creaked open.
Kurt Darnell stepped onto the porch, one hand on the railing, the other holding a beer can.
He was a big man—tall, broad, with a gut pressing against his flannel shirt. His beard was more gray than black. His eyes were small and mean.
“Sage Holloway,” he drawled. “Didn’t expect to see you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
Rage flared in my chest.
Sage smiled. It was tight around the edges, but passable.
“Afternoon, Kurt,” she said. “Thought I’d swing by. See how the winter prep’s going.”
“Winter’s here,” he said, gesturing at the snow. “Prep’s done or it ain’t. You here to lecture me about forage again?”
“Not today,” she said. “I brought the info sheets you asked for. About the new non-lethal deterrents trial.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I bet you did.” He took a swig of beer. “Government handouts. You people think throwing paper at a problem makes it go away.”
“No,” she said. “We think information helps solve it. Big difference.”
He squinted at her.
“You look different,” he said. “You sick?”
“Hit my head,” she said. “Still pretty, though, right?”
He laughed, surprised. “You always were a funny one,” he said. “Come in. Warm up. I got coffee on.”
Every muscle in my body coiled.
Sage hesitated, then stepped closer to the steps but didn’t set foot on them.
“Coffee sounds great,” she said. “But I’m on a timeline. I leave the truck running too long, FWS docks my pay.”
He leered. “Government don’t pay you enough to stand around and chat with lonely ranchers?”
“You’re not lonely,” she said. “You’ve got beer and Fox News.”
Edda snorted softly in my head.
Kurt grunted. “You here ’bout them wolves?” he asked. “Been seeing tracks closer this year.”
“Wolves are always here,” she said. “You just notice them more when there’s snow.”
“Smartass,” he said. “I seen more than tracks. Got ’em on camera.”
My hackles rose.
Sage tilted her head. “On your rigs?”
“Damn right,” he said, thumping his chest. “Better than those toys you put in trees.”
“Oh?” she asked, feigning boredom. “You upgrade?”
“Got me a new one,” he said. “High-def. Night vision. Picks up every damn squirrel that breathes near it.”
“Fancy,” she said. “Cost you a fortune?”
“Worth it,” he said. “Caught a big bastard prowling near the calving pen last week. Black as sin. Eyes like…hellfire.”
My blood ran cold.
He’d seen me.
Not shifting. Not halfway. But still.
“Let me guess,” Sage said lightly. “You printed it out and stuck it on your fridge.”
He puffed up. “Damn right. Come see.”
He turned, stomping toward the door.
Sage’s eyes flicked once toward the tree line.
Her pupils were huge.
Edda’s voice brushed my thoughts. *You want me to move?*
*No,* I sent. *Hold. If we rush in now, we make it worse.*
Sage didn’t follow Kurt.
She stayed at the bottom of the steps.
“I believe you,” she called. “About the wolf. They’re out here. Always have been.”
He looked back, frowning. “Picture’s proof.”
“I don’t need proof,” she said. “I know my wolves.”
“And you know cameras,” he said. Suspicion tightened his mouth. “Maybe too well.”
She laughed. “Paranoid much?”
“You’ve been stomping around my land all fall,” he said. “Stringing up your little gadgets. Spying on me.”
“I’ve been monitoring wildlife on public land,” she corrected. “And you know it.”
He took a step down.
My growl rumbled low.
*Easy,* Rafe warned. *He doesn’t see you. Yet.*
“You know what I caught on one of your precious cameras?” Kurt asked, voice dropping.
Sage’s shoulders tensed. “Enlighten me.”
“Something…wrong,” he said. “Too big. Too upright. Looked like a wolf ’til it didn’t. Looked like a man ’til it didn’t.”
The world narrowed.
Sage swallowed. “You sure you weren’t looking at a bear with mange?”
He snarled. “You think I don’t know a bear when I see one?”
“I think low light can make shadows look like monsters,” she said gently. “I think your eyes tell stories your brain wants to hear.”
“My brain wants to hear that the world’s the way it’s always been,” he snapped. “Not full of freaks you brought back.”
“The wolves were always here,” she said. “We just gave them a head start.”
His gaze sharpened. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
He reached into his flannel pocket.
My muscles locked.
He pulled out a small, black rectangle.
The memory card.
He held it up between thumb and forefinger.
“Found this under your tower,” he said. “Smashed the toy, took the guts. Figured I’d see what you been seeing.”
My vision tunneled.
Sage stared at it.
“Find anything interesting?” she asked, voice carefully bland.
His lip curled. “Lot of nothing. Deer. Squirrels. That collared male you’re sweet on.”
“Blue Tag’s a wolf,” she said. “I don’t do interspecies.”
He ignored that. “And then…that.”
He nodded toward the house.
She wet her lips. “That…what,” she asked.
“You know damn well,” he said. “Something…wrong. Shifting. Twisting. Looked like the devil himself crawling out of a wolf’s skin.”
My breath stopped.
“How many people have you shown it to,” Sage asked quietly.
“Just me,” he said. “And I aim to keep it that way. Unless.”
“Unless?” she prompted.
“Unless you and your bosses don’t make it worth my while,” he said.
She stiffened. “Are you…blackmailing the federal government with a trail cam photo?”
“If that’s what it takes to get some damn attention around here, yeah,” he said. “I been telling you for years the wolves are a problem. You brushed me off. Now I got proof of something worse. You think your people want that getting out?”
“You think posting ‘werewolf’ pictures on Facebook is going to get you what you want?” she asked. “You’ll be a meme for a week and forgotten the next.”
“I don’t give a shit about the internet,” he snapped. “I care about my land. My stock. My kids. I want the feds to take me serious. You get your bosses to pull back. Stop releasing more of your precious pets in my backyard. Or that card goes to the news. To anyone who’ll pay.”
Sage went very still.
“You want me to…fudge data,” she said slowly.
“Just…massage it,” he said. “Make the wolves look worse. Make ’em move your damn experiment somewhere else. You’re good with numbers, aren’t you? Make ’em dance.”
She stared at him.
Disgust radiated off her like heat.
“No,” she said.
His face darkened. “Excuse me?”
“I said no,” she repeated. “I’m not falsifying data to fix your fear. I’m not sabotaging years of work because you’re spooked by shadows.”
His grip tightened on the card. “You ain’t thinking straight, girl. This is your way out. You help me, I keep my mouth shut. You don’t, I blow the lid off this whole thing.”
“Blow away,” she said. “Your photos don’t show what you think they do.”
He stepped down another stair, looming.
“You callin’ me a liar?”
“I’m calling you scared,” she said. “And angry. And looking for someone to blame. But I’m not your scapegoat.”
He reached out.
Grabbed her arm.
Every muscle in my body snapped.
I launched from the trees.
Snow exploded under my paws.
I was dimly aware of Rafe and Edda moving with me—flanking, shadows at my sides—but all I saw was Kurt’s meaty hand on her sleeve, all I heard was the hitch in her breath, all I smelled was her fear spike sharp and metallic.
I hit the fence at a run.
Wood splintered.
Kurt’s head whipped toward me.
His eyes went wide.
“Oh, shit,” he breathed. “Oh, *fuck.*”
He shoved Sage away and stumbled back onto the porch, hand flying toward his belt.
Gun.
I was faster.
I hit the steps in one bound, teeth bared.
His fingers brushed cold metal.
I slammed into his chest.
We crashed through the porch railing, wood exploding around us.
He screamed.
I landed on top of him in the snow, paws pinning his shoulders, jaws inches from his throat.
He stank of fear and beer and stale sweat.
His heart hammered against my claws.
“Kieran!”
Sage’s voice.
Sharp.
Panicked.
Human.
I froze.
Her scent washed over me, pungent and immediate.
I looked up.
She’d scrambled to her knees, snow clinging to her jeans, hair tumbled around her face. Her eyes were huge.
“Don’t,” she said.
It was a single word.
A plea.
A command.
My teeth ached.
Kurt whimpered under me. “Oh God. Oh Jesus. It’s—it’s real. You’re—”
“You didn’t see this,” Sage snapped. “You didn’t—this is just a wolf. A big wolf. Spooked by noise.”
He gaped at her. “You fucking *kidding* me?”
“You post that card anywhere, Kurt, you bring people with guns and cameras and helicopters into this valley,” she said fast, desperate. “You think they’ll come just for him?” She jerked her chin at me. “They’ll come for *you,* too. For your kids. Your cows. Your *guns.* They’ll trample your land, question your neighbors, put your whole life under a microscope. And for what? A blurry photo of a shadow you don’t understand?”
“I seen him,” he hissed, shaking under my weight. “I seen him *change.* Ain’t no shadow.”
“You saw something you were never meant to see,” she said. “And yeah, it scared you. I get it. But you can’t put it back in the box, Kurt. Not without breaking it. Or breaking you.”
His gaze flicked between us. Between wolf and woman.
“You in on this,” he whispered to her. “You…fuckin’ that thing in a man suit?”
Heat flashed under my fur.
I snarled.
Sage’s jaw tightened. “You’re drunk,” she said. “And scared. And saying things you’ll regret. Think about your kids, Kurt. Do you want them growing up in a place crawling with feds? With reporters? With every yahoo with a gun and a monster fetish?”
He flinched.
“They’ll close this valley,” she pressed. “You’ll lose grazing rights. Access. Hell, they might buy you out entirely. Eminent domain. ‘Public safety concern.’ You’ll be a footnote in some conspiracy blog. Is that what you want?”
His breath came fast and ragged.
He stared up at me.
At my teeth.
At the force holding him down.
He swallowed.
Slowly, with shaking fingers, he held up the memory card.
It glinted dully between his thumb and forefinger.
“Take it,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Take it and get the fuck off my land.”
I hesitated.
This could be a trick.
A ploy.
But his terror smelled real. Acrid and hot.
Sage moved carefully around the splintered porch, boots crunching on broken wood.
She crouched, keeping her body at an angle—half between us, half between him and the house.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay, Kurt. I’m going to take it. And then we’re going to leave. And you’re going to forget this happened.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to forget–” he started.
“You’re going to decide,” she interrupted, “that you saw a wolf. A big one. And that you got drunk and let your imagination run wild. You’re going to tell yourself that every time the memory comes back. Until it…fades.”
His eyes glittered. “You think I can just–”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Because the alternative is worse. For you. For your family. For *everyone.*”
She plucked the card from his fingers.
Held it up.
Our eyes met.
Heat surged through me.
Trust.
She slipped it into her jacket pocket.
“Get off him,” she said to me quietly. “Please.”
Every instinct screamed to squeeze.
To tear.
To remove the threat permanently.
But her voice…
I stepped back.
Kurt scrambled to his feet, slipping in the snow, stumbling toward the house.
He tripped on a splintered board, fell to his knees, and crawled inside, slamming the door.
We heard the deadbolt slam.
Then the sick, wet sound of a man sobbing.
Sage sagged.
I shifted.
Pain tore through me, bones grinding, skin stretching, fur sliding. The world narrowed to sensation—the burn of the cold air on newly bare skin, the ache in my shoulders from impact.
When I could see straight again, I was kneeling in the snow, naked, breathing hard.
Sage’s gaze flicked over me.
Heat flared at the base of her throat.
I stood, ignoring the sting of wood splinters and snow on my bare feet, and grabbed my pants from where I’d stashed them at the treeline.
Rafe and Edda emerged from the shadows, half-shifted, eyes bright.
“Well,” Rafe said. “That went…better than expected.”
“He’s alive,” Edda said. “That’s more than I would’ve bet on.”
Sage pressed a shaking hand to her forehead.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”
I tugged my jeans up, not bothering with the shirt yet, and crossed the distance between us in three strides.
“Are you hurt,” I asked.
“No,” she said. “Just…adrenaline poisoning.”
“You handled him,” I said. “Better than some of us could have.”
She laughed, high and thin. “I talked a drunk rancher out of leaking werewolf porn to the internet. Is that…a market now? It probably is. I hate this timeline.”
Despite everything, Edda snorted.
Rafe grinned. “I’d pay good money to never hear the phrase ‘werewolf porn’ again.”
“Did you have to put that image in my head,” I muttered.
Sage swayed.
I grabbed her elbow without thinking.
Her fingers curled into my bare forearm, clinging.
“You did it,” I said quietly. “You got it back.”
Her hand moved to her pocket, pressing over the card.
“For now,” she said. “Rain check on my existential crisis. I’ll schedule it for after we’re out of bullet range.”
She turned toward the trees.
Took one step.
Then another.
On the third, her knees buckled.
I scooped her up before she hit the snow.
She made a faint noise of protest.
“Put me down,” she muttered. “I can walk.”
“Sure you can,” I said. “Tomorrow.”
Her head dropped against my shoulder.
She didn’t argue again.
As I carried her into the trees, away from the house, the dogs, the broken porch, I felt a low, fierce satisfaction burn through the fear.
We’d averted one disaster.
For now.
But as the forest closed around us, muffling the world, I knew we were still running on the thinnest of ice.
Kurt had given up the card.
He hadn’t given up what he’d seen.
And some memories didn’t fade just because you wanted them to.
***
Back in the cabin, Sage insisted on staying awake until we destroyed the evidence.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, hair damp from melted snow, wrapped in a blanket and stubbornness, while Rafe rummaged through a drawer and produced an ancient, battered laptop.
“Before you say anything,” he told me, “this one hasn’t been online since dial-up was a thing. No Wi-Fi. No Bluetooth. No nothing. It’s basically Amish.”
“Amish,” I repeated.
“Technology-challenged,” Sage translated. “Safe.”
Mara frowned. “What’s ‘dial-up’?”
“Hell,” Sage said.
Rafe popped the memory card into a small USB adapter and slid it into the laptop’s port. The machine whirred, screen flickering to life.
Sage’s hands twisted in the blanket.
Kieran,” she said. “If there’s… If it caught you…”
“I know,” I said.
“And if we see–” She broke off, swallowing.
“Then you burn it faster,” Mara said.
Images appeared on the screen in a plodding slideshow.
Deer.
Rabbits.
The collared male—Blue Tag—pausing to sniff the base of the tower.
Sage, climbing up the ladder, back to the camera.
My chest clenched.
Then—
Black.
A blur of fur and motion at the edge of the frame.
Me.
I tensed.
Rafe clicked.
The next frame showed…nothing unusual. Just the clearing. The tower’s legs. A smear of darkness that could have been shadow.
Frame after frame.
No clean shot of a half-formed body. No horror-movie still to plaster on conspiracy forums.
Finally, the time stamp froze. The last image showed the camera’s own destruction—a boot coming down, the sole a blur, the world tilting.
Then nothing.
Sage sagged.
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. “Oh, thank–”
“We still burn it,” Mara said.
“Obviously,” Sage said.
Rafe popped the card out, set it on a metal tray, and held it over the fire with tongs. The plastic warped, blackened, and finally melted into a puddle of unrecognizable goo.
Sage watched, eyes bright in the firelight.
“That won’t erase it from his head,” she said quietly.
“No,” I acknowledged. “But it slows him down.”
“He’s not wrong about one thing,” she added. “People *would* go nuts if they saw something like that. Some would call it fake. Some would call it proof. None of them would leave you alone.”
“We’re not planning on giving them the chance,” I said.
She nodded, lips pressed together.
“I need to call Kim,” she said suddenly.
Mara frowned. “Now?”
“Soon,” Sage said. “Tomorrow. Before Kurt does something…stupid. I need to…steer the narrative. Warn her that a rancher is about to start screaming about monsters. Convince her it’s just…panic. Misinterpretation. I can’t let her hear about this first from *him.*”
“That’s…smart,” Mara said.
“It’s also a risk,” I said.
Sage looked at me. “So is breathing.”
“Dramatic,” Rafe muttered.
“True,” Edda added.
“We’ll script it,” Mara said. “Together. Tonight. You’ll tell her enough truth to be convincing. And nothing that points…here.”
Sage exhaled. “Okay.”
She swayed.
Mara was at her side in a blink, hand on her forehead.
“You’re burning,” she said.
“Adrenaline crash,” Sage mumbled. “Sorry. My body’s not used to this much…plot.”
“Bed,” Mara ordered. “Now. No arguments.”
“I’m fine,” Sage protested weakly.
Kieran,” Mara said. “Your human is defective. Put her horizontal before she falls over.”
“She’s not my—” I began.
Sage arched a brow.
I shut my mouth.
“Come on,” I said instead, reaching for her.
She let me.
As I eased her back onto the pillows, tucking the blanket up to her shoulders, she caught my wrist.
“Kieran,” she said softly.
I looked down.
Her eyes were huge in her pale face.
“When you hit him,” she murmured. “When you…had him under you. You could’ve killed him.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You didn’t,” she said.
“No,” I said.
Her fingers tightened.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what,” I asked.
“For listening,” she said. “For…stopping. Even when you didn’t want to.”
She wasn’t wrong.
It had taken everything in me to pull my teeth back.
Everything.
“You saved him,” I said. “With your words. I just…didn’t make it worse.”
“That’s not nothing,” she said. Her hand slid down my forearm, fingertips tracing a faint scar. “You’re more than your teeth, Kieran.”
Heat flared under my skin.
I wanted to say: *So are you.*
Instead, I covered her hand with mine and squeezed, once.
“Sleep,” I said.
“For how long,” she murmured.
“As long as you can,” I said. “We’ll keep watch.”
She smiled, small and tired.
“I know,” she whispered.
And for the first time since we’d dragged her from that tower, I believed she really did.
***