"That was a clear sabotage attempt," Dax says, looking grim, but with a hint of respect in his eyes. "The tripwire… Cassie's getting desperate."
Lila nods. "And bold. To do it in front of so many, even if subtle. She's not just spreading rumors anymore."
Bolton looks at me, his expression serious, the earlier possessiveness replaced by a deep, genuine concern. "We need to increase security, Maya. Around the den, around you." His concern is genuine, but also a subtle reminder of her vulnerability.
I shake my head, a new confidence settling in my bones. "No. Not around me. Around the pack. We need to be vigilant against Cassie, yes. But the rogues are a bigger threat, and Cassie’s actions are a distraction. We can't let her pull our attention away from the real danger."
She isn't just Bolton's future mate; she's a protector in her own right.My wolf stirs in agreement.
I look at Dax and Lila, a sense of purpose solidifying within me. "Dax, can you scout the perimeter tonight? See if you can find any more rogue signs. Lila, can you organize some of the younger wolves into a rotating patrol around the outskirts of the territory? Make sure they understand the severity of the rogue threat."
Dax and Lila nod, impressed by my decisive leadership, a quiet acknowledgment of my new role. "Consider it done, Maya," Dax says, a hint of pride in his voice.
Bolton looks at me, a new appreciation in his eyes, a silent understanding passing between us. "You're right," he admits. "We need to look beyond Cassie. But we still need tobe careful."
I nod, the weight of the coming ceremony still a tangible thing, but now, it’s not just dread. It’s a challenge I’m preparing to meet head-on. "I know. The full moon is only days away. We can't afford any more mistakes."
Chapter 22
Bolton
The air smells like trouble.
Two days. Two days until the full moon, two days until Maya marks me and the pack finally, formally, recognizes her. And every muscle in my body is coiled tight, not with anticipation, but with a primal sense of unease. I’m standing at the edge of the perimeter, running through patrol rotations with Dax, trying to focus on the lines on the map, but my senses are screaming.
It’s not just the rogues, though their shadow looms larger with every passing hour. It’s a deeper hum, a discord in the pack. Like a low-grade fever that won’t break.
“Patrols are doubled north and west,” Dax reports, his voice low. “South and east are thin. Dad’s convinced they’ll hit the old logging trails.”
I trace a finger along the map. “They always hit the old logging trails. That’s why the old logging trails are a trap.”
Dax grunts. “He’s still trying to figure out which direction they’re coming from. There’s been too many false alarms, too many whispers that lead nowhere.”
“Because it’s not just rogues, is it?” I ask, looking up. My gaze drifts toward the main den, where Maya is probably. Her scent, a sharp, clean clarity that always cuts through the forest smells, is a grounding point in the rising tension.
Dax sighs. “No. It’s Cassie. She’s been quiet, too quiet. She’s up to something. I can feel it.”
I feel it too. It’s like the air thins whenever she’s near, leaving a metallic taste on my tongue. She’s not just a rival anymore; she’s a festering wound, and she’s determined to infect the entire pack.
“She’s trying to make Maya look bad,” I say, the words a low growl. “To undermine her. To make them doubt her even after the challenge.”
“She’s looking for a crisis,” Dax confirms. “A moment where Maya falters, where the pack can point and say, ‘See? She’s not one of us. She’s not fit to lead.’”
My jaw tightens. “She won’t falter.”
“I know,” Dax says, but his eyes are shadowed. “But what if Cassie creates the crisis herself?”
A cold knot forms in my stomach. The thought had crossed my mind more than once. Cassie’s ruthlessness knew no bounds. She wouldn’t hesitate to put the pack at risk if it meant getting what she wanted.
“I’m going to check the south border,” I say, already turning. “And then I’m going to find Maya.”
Dax nods. “Be careful. The woods are restless.”
I don’t need the warning. My wolf is already on high alert, every fiber of my being screaming that something is coming.
I push through the trees, letting my wolf instincts take over, scenting the air, listening for anything out of place. The forest is too quiet, the animal sounds muted, like they’re holding their breath.
Then, a sudden, sharp yelp. A young wolf. Too close to the main den.
