I keep seeing the window.

  The breeze hadn’t even settled yet when I reached it. Curtains danced like they hadn’t noticed the blood on the floor. Three bodies—vampires—lay crumpled in the room like discarded scraps. But no Laika. Just the scent of her, already fading.

  The world’s been quieter since.

  Not silent. No, I hear everything—every breath, every heartbeat, every lie. But quieter. Like something inside me snapped and took the sound with it. I’ve been running ever since, chasing threads, chasing ghosts, chasing her.

  And I’m done asking questions.

  The first Pack thought they could lie. That they didn’t see her. That they didn’t know who I was. I left one alive just long enough to correct them. The second Pack was smarter. They ran.

  It didn’t save them.

  I don’t remember how many days it’s been. Sleep comes in slivers. Food tastes like ash. My wolf is always near the surface—closer than he’s ever been. We don’t argue anymore. We just move.

  He wants her back too.

  The third Pack didn’t even put up a fight. I could smell their fear before I crossed the border. A few tried to beg. One had the nerve to ask if I’d gone mad.

  Maybe I have.

  She was carrying my pup. Our pup. And I let her slip through my fingers.

  The worst part is I don’t know if she ran… or if she was taken. The blood on the floor says she fought. The open window says someone wanted her gone. And the silence since then tells me everything I need to know.

  Someone thinks they can hide her from me.

  The fourth Pack was loyal to the wrong Alpha. I recognized the symbol etched into their war tent—a claw wrapped in chains. I burned it down first.

  They tried to protect their Alpha. Said he’d gone north days ago. That he wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. I left him a message in the ashes:

  You took my Luna. I’m taking your Pack.

  I didn’t ask questions this time. Just moved. Fast, brutal, unforgiving. The weight in my chest hasn’t lifted. It only tightens, like a collar pulled tighter by the hour.

  By the fifth Pack, I stopped shifting back.

  It’s easier that way—faster, deadlier. My wolf doesn’t care about blood. He wants scent. Trail. Any whisper of her. But we find nothing. Only cowards who kneel too late, and children I force myself to ignore.

  I don’t kill innocents.

  Not yet.

  The sixth Pack sent warriors to meet me at the border. Brave. Or stupid. Maybe both.

  They circled me like they thought I’d listen. Thought they could talk me down. One of them said my name like it meant something. Said Apolloh, this isn’t the way.

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  My claws were already in his throat.

  They came at me after that. Trained. Coordinated. But they weren’t hunting me—they were trying to survive me. That’s the difference. I’m not the Alpha right now. I’m the storm that eats through everything in its path.

  By the time the last one fell, my fur was slick with blood that wasn’t mine.

  I stood in the middle of their training grounds, panting, shaking. My wolf wanted more. My mind did too. Because if I stop, even for a second, I’ll feel it—

  The ache in my chest where she’s supposed to be.

  The silence in my bond where her warmth used to hum.

  She’s gone.

  And if she’s dead—

  No.

  No.

  I rip my claws into the earth and roar until the sky cracks above me. Until the ground shakes beneath my feet. Until something inside me splits wide open and keeps tearing.

  I’ll burn every Pack to the ground before I let her disappear.

  It’s raining when I reach the eighth Pack.

  Not a cleansing rain—cold, heavy, punishing. The kind that weighs down your fur and fills your lungs with the taste of iron and ash. My claws are out before I speak a word. I’m not here for diplomacy. I’ve stopped pretending I care about mercy.

  But then I catch something.

  Not a scent. Not yet. Just a twitch. A flinch. A young wolf—barely out of puphood—hiding behind a storage tent. Eyes too wide, breath too fast. He’s seen me before I see him. He knows what I am. What I’ve done.

  I corner him in seconds, pin him to the wall, baring teeth still wet with blood.

  “Where is she?”

  He doesn’t answer. Not at first. Just stares, frozen, the scent of fear sharp and sour between us.

  Then, barely above a whisper:

  “She passed through. Three days ago. Maybe four. With… with a vampire.”

  My world stills.

  I slam him harder against the wall, heart slamming in my chest. “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t know! I didn’t know she was your—”

  But I’ve already let go. I’ve already turned.

  Because now I do catch it. A trace in the rain. Hidden, faint, but there.

  Laika.

  I run.

  The scent is fragile. Scattered. Almost lost in the storm.

  But it’s hers.

  I know it the way I know my own heartbeat. Wild sage. Burnt pine. Something softer buried beneath it all, something that used to calm me when the nights stretched too long. Now it just stokes the fire.

  She was here.

  She was close.

  I shift mid-run, paws slamming into the mud, lungs pulling in every broken trail she left behind. The vampire’s scent clings to hers—slick, cold, and wrong. It coils around her like possession.

  I swear, I will rip his heart from his chest.

  She’s not running. The trail tells me that. Her steps are steady, deliberate. She was being moved. Forced? Or protected? I don’t know yet. I don’t care.

  What matters is she didn’t leave me.

  Someone took her.

  The path twists through ravines and thick pine. Every branch that tears across my skin just makes me faster. I don’t stop when I smell old blood. I don’t stop when I pass the hollowed body of a deer left rotting in the underbrush. I only stop when I see the ruins—

  Old stone. Blackened by fire. A sanctuary turned to ash.

  There are tracks here. Not fresh. A few days, maybe less. But deep, deliberate. Horses. Carts. A movement of something more than just her.

  A pattern.

  I shift back, standing naked in the rain, panting like the world is too heavy to carry.

  They’re moving her. Somewhere far.

  And they’re not alone.

  I crouch near the tracks, rain dripping from my hair, vision blurred with steam rising off my skin. My wolf still wants to run—tear through whatever’s ahead until we find her—but I force myself to stop.

  To think.

  This wasn’t random. Whoever took her had time. They knew the territory, knew how to cover their trail. But they didn’t count on me.

  I reach into the bond, straining for even the faintest echo.

  Nothing. Still.

  But I feel the hollow ache more clearly now. Like something buried deep inside her is being held down, restrained. It burns.

  I won’t let it stay that way.

  I mentally call Jaxe first.

  His voice comes through after the second growl.

  “Alpha. Tell me you’ve found something.”

  “She was here,” I snap. “Three days ago. Headed west. With a vampire.”

  Jaxe doesn’t speak for a beat. Then—“West puts them near the old trade routes. If they’ve got horses and carts, they’re moving supplies or people. Not just running.”

  “Or they’re taking her to someone.”

  “You think it’s a nest?”

  “I think it’s a message.”

  I hear him curse under his breath.

  “I’ll get Zia. She knows the old tunnels better than anyone. If they’re using the caves—”

  “Tell her to move fast.” I hang up.

  The storm begins to clear by the time I find the next body.

  Human. Male. Throat ripped out. Not mine.

  My blood runs cold.

  It’s fresh.

  Laika’s scent lingers around him. Barely. Like a shadow that passed too quickly to be seen. But it’s there.

  She’s fighting.

  She’s alive.

  I drop to all fours, letting my wolf surge again. His growl rips through my chest as we leap forward, following the trail, hunting not just with fury—but with hope.

  And that’s far more dangerous.

  The gate moans as I push through, its rusted metal groaning like something wounded. The place is dead. Not abandoned—dead. The kind of silence that feels intentional. Like it was placed here to cover screams.

  The structures are cracked and hollow. Stone half-swallowed by weeds. A collapsed temple, a training ring scorched black. Chains still nailed into the walls.

  My claws scrape the floor as I walk through.

  Laika’s scent clings to the air like ash. Burned. Fading.

  But it’s hers.

  I follow it through corridors that once trained warriors, now echoing with the ghosts of obedience. I smell blood. And fear.

  And something else—fresh. Shattered wood. A trail of claw marks on the stone.

  She fought.

  She got out.

  I find the cell last.

  It’s deep. Carved into the mountain like they meant to bury her alive. The door is twisted off its hinges. Walls are cracked. Deep gouges in the stone like something had to break out of herself to leave.

  Her blood is here.

  But so is something else.

  The scent of a kill.

  I crouch and find the pieces—small bones, shattered ribs, what’s left of a spine. Not vampire.

  Wolf.

  The scent hits me harder now, all salt and iron and the bitter rot of something once dominant. This wasn’t just any wolf. This was him.

  The Alpha.

  Her Alpha.

  His blood paints the cell walls in long, desperate streaks. Claw marks gouge the stone around where his body fell—where he tried to get away.

  He didn’t die easy.

  Good.

  I rise, breath caught in my throat, staring at the remains. What’s left of the monster who caged her. Broke her. Thought she would never fight back.

  And she didn’t just fight.

  She won.

  I walk back to the courtyard.

  Look up at the sky.

  It’s dusk now. The light just beginning to slip behind the cliffs, shadows rising like smoke.

  I shift slowly this time. My body aches from the restraint. My wolf unfurls inside me, teeth bared to the wind, fury softened only by the flicker of relief.

  Then I tilt my head back—

  And I howl.

  Not rage.

  Not warning.

  Hope.

  I’m coming.

  The last note of my howl is still curling through the sky when I hear their paws hit the dirt.

  Jaxe shifts first, clothes half-torn from the rush, his chest heaving as he steps into the open courtyard. Zia follows slower, her eyes sharp, wild. She doesn’t shift—just lowers her hood and tilts her head like she’s listening to ghosts.

  Neither of them speaks at first.

  They don’t have to.

  The scent of blood still hangs heavy. And it’s not just Laika’s.

  I turn and walk back toward the broken cell, knowing they’ll follow. I hear the moment they catch the scent. Hear the way Jaxe’s steps slow. Hear the quiet, almost reverent breath Zia draws in as we reach the threshold.

  The body—or what’s left of it—is still there. Still raw. Still violent.

  Jaxe curses low under his breath.

  “That’s a wolf.”

  “Alpha,” I correct, voice like gravel. “The one who hurt her.”

  Zia kneels at the edge of the bloodstained stone. Her fingers ghost over a claw mark carved deep into the wall.

  “She did this?”

  “She did.”

  Neither of them moves for a long moment. The air buzzes with something wordless—something that settles in their chests and flickers behind their eyes.

  Not just pride.

  Not just shock.

  Respect.

  “She didn’t need rescuing,” Zia says softly. Not a question. A vow.

  “No,” I say. My voice nearly breaks. “She needed to be believed.”

  Jaxe steps back out into the courtyard, gaze sweeping the distant trees.

  “Any idea where she went?”

  I shake my head.

  “She’s still running. But now, she’s running free.”

  Zia’s voice is quiet but sharp.

  “Then we find her. No more hunting. No more tearing through packs. We find her—and we bring her home.”

  I nod, my eyes never leaving the horizon.

  I’m coming, Laika.

  And this time, nothing will touch you before me.

  We stay the night in the ruins.

  There’s nowhere else to go. The land itself feels like it’s holding its breath—like the ghosts of this place are waiting to see if we’ll leave it untouched, or finish what Laika started.

  We don’t speak much. Not even Zia.

  I pace long after the others rest. My wolf itches under my skin. He wants to tear out of me, to run, to find her—but the trail’s cold, and running blindly won’t bring her back.

  There’s something else in the air, though.

  Something that didn’t belong here before.

  Ashes.

  Not from the fight.

  From a fire.

  ~~~

  At dawn, Jaxe finds the remnants. A pile of burnt cloth. Torn scraps of something once soft, now blackened and buried beneath a thin layer of dust and guilt.

  A blanket.

  Zia finds what’s left of a metal embroidered leather cuff nearby—torn into pieces, each one soaked with dried blood and old magic. Her voice is low, like she’s afraid of scaring the truth away.

  “Suppression band.”

  My head snaps toward her.

  “You’re sure?”

  She nods.

  “They used these to keep wolves from shifting. I’ve seen them before. She broke it.”

  My chest tightens.

  She didn’t just escape.

  She didn’t just kill him.

  She freed herself.

  Piece by piece, chain by chain.

  “She’s further than we thought,” Jaxe mutters, glancing toward the woods.

  “She’s not running in circles. She’s trying to disappear.”

  “Or find something,” Zia adds. She’s crouched again, fingers brushing the dirt like she’s reading it.

  “Like what?” I ask.

  She shrugs.

  “Could be someone. Could be safety. Could be vengeance.”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  I swallow hard.

  Could be our pup.

  ~~~

  Later, we pick up the scent again—faint, fleeting, tucked between pine and frost.

  She’s headed northwest. Into deeper territory. Land no pack’s claimed in years.

  “There’s nothing out there,” Jaxe says, frowning.

  “Nothing except mountains, mist, and ruins.”

  “She’s going to ground,” I murmur.

  “The way a wolf does when she’s wounded. Or waiting.”

  Zia narrows her eyes.

  “Then we don’t chase.”

  I turn to her, brow furrowed.

  “We follow.” She meets my gaze. “Carefully. Quietly. If she’s still half in fight-or-flight, we can’t be the next threat she smells.”

  She’s right.

  Laika may not know who’s behind her yet. Only that someone is.

  And until she knows it’s me—until she feels it in her bones—I’ll tread as gently as her own shadow.

  The wind shifts near midday.

  It’s faint—barely a whisper through the trees—but I catch it. That scent. That thread of her again.

  Pine sap. Earth. Sweat. And something else.

  Her.

  I stalk ahead, breath tight in my chest. The underbrush thickens, the trail weaving between ancient stones and weather-worn paths. It’s the kind of place wolves forget to go—silent and raw. Like it remembers things it shouldn’t.

  Then I see it.

  A shallow hollow beneath a tree. Barely noticeable unless you were searching. The leaves are disturbed—nestled in like someone curled into them.

  Zia crouches beside it, eyes narrowing.

  “She slept here.”

  I step forward. Slowly. Carefully.

  Tucked into the hollow, half-buried beneath the leaves, is a scrap of fabric. Not burned. Not torn. Just left behind.

  It’s a strip of cloth—faded blue, soft to the touch. Her scent clings to it like memory.

  I hold it in my hands. And for the first time since I found that ruined cell, my breath catches.

  Because I recognize this.

  Not something from her past.

  Something from our night.

  The makeshift wrap she used to keep herself warm when she thought she’d sleep far from me. When she didn’t trust the bond enough to rest at my side.

  She carried it with her.

  All this way.

  ~~~

  That night, I keep watch alone.

  The others sleep near the fire. But I sit with the cloth still clenched in my hand, back against a tree, staring into the dark.

  I should have kept her closer. I should’ve known the moment she was gone. I should’ve felt it.

  But I didn’t.

  Because I was too busy pretending I could protect her with words and not action. With promises instead of vigilance.

  I close my eyes.

  I see her standing in that washroom, her voice trembling. This doesn’t make sense. I don’t know what to do.

  And me?

  I told her this pup would be ours to protect.

  And then I let her vanish.

  A sharp breath hitches in my throat.

  I press the scrap of cloth to my chest, hold it there like it’s all I have left.

  You’re still out here.

  I will not stop until I find you.

  The scent leads us deeper.

  The forest grows thicker, the trees crowding around us like silent witnesses to everything that’s happened. The silence is unnerving. No birds, no rustling leaves. Just the sound of our feet and our breaths.

  And the trail.

  It’s sharp, clear—Laika’s scent, unmistakable.

  But then it falters.

  We stop.

  A broken branch, a torn piece of fabric, a faint scrape of claws against bark. But there’s no other sign. No fresh blood, no footprints. Just the traces of something that could have been her.

  “This isn’t right,” Jaxe says, rubbing his nose with a frustrated grunt. “She wouldn’t leave a trail like this.”

  Zia stands still, eyes narrowed, watching the wind shift. She circles the area a few times, sniffing the air like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle.

  “She’s messing with us,” Zia mutters, crouching low to the ground. She drags her fingers through the dirt. “She’s good. But not that good.”

  I take a deep breath, forcing the frustration down. “She’s testing us.”

  They exchange a glance.

  “She’s playing with us,” Jaxe agrees, though there’s a slight laugh in his voice. “All this time and we still can’t catch her.”

  But I know what she’s doing. I know she’s trying to see if we’re worthy of following. If we’re patient enough to track her down.

  So we wait.

  We don’t rush. We don’t chase. We just keep moving forward, quieter now. Slower. Like we’re all a part of the hunt instead of chasing shadows.

  Another hour passes.

  The trail thickens again. This time, it’s unmistakable.

  She’s close.

  I freeze.

  Zia follows my gaze. She doesn’t need to ask.

  We pick up the pace, the wind now carrying her scent more strongly than before, and something else, something like hope.

  This time, there’s no confusion. No detours. Just Laika—waiting for us.

  The forest grows colder as the sun sets, a chill that sinks deep into my bones.

  The air is thick now—faintly electric, like it’s holding something back. The kind of stillness that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

  I keep my senses sharp, focusing on the scent again. Laika’s trail is fresh, but it’s no longer the same. The faintest trace of another wolf mingles with hers—just a whisper, but it’s there.

  Not her scent.

  It’s as if she’s trying to lead us somewhere.

  “Hold,” I say, lifting a hand. The others freeze. Zia’s ears twitch, eyes scanning the shadows between the trees. Jaxe’s posture tightens, his muscles coiling like he’s ready to spring.

  I squint into the dusk.

  “Something’s wrong,” Jaxe mutters, voice low, like he’s afraid of saying it aloud.

  I don’t answer. My heart is pounding louder than my thoughts, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being led.

  That we’re close. Too close.

  I step forward, but just as I do, a faint sound drifts through the air. At first, it’s nothing. A trick of the wind.

  Then again.

  Twigs snapping.

  A soft, distant growl. Low. Grounded. Not Laika’s.

  I stop dead in my tracks, eyes flicking toward the trees to our left. The sound came from there.

  I hold up a finger to my lips. Quiet.

  The others listen, their faces drawn, waiting for the next sound.

  Nothing.

  A breeze rustles the leaves. But no growl. No movement.

  “What is it?” Zia whispers, voice tight with tension.

  I don’t answer, just wave them forward again.

  We continue, slowly. But something’s off. I feel it.

  Another crack. And then another growl—closer this time.

  My wolf rises, bristling beneath my skin. Ready to fight.

  I motion for them to stay close. Zia and Jaxe follow, every step careful, measured. We’re not hunting a pack anymore—we’re hunting Laika. But something is still out there, and I know we’re not alone.

  Then it happens.

  A shadow. A flash of movement through the trees—fast. Too fast for a normal wolf.

  My chest tightens. I’m on alert. Whatever that is, it’s not one of us.

  And then the wind shifts again, carrying Laika’s scent stronger than before.

  I stop.

  We all do.

  And I’m left in the silence of that moment.

  Was it her?

  The scent on the wind is so clear now. She’s close. But the growl? That’s something else entirely.

  “She’s close.” Zia’s voice breaks the stillness. She’s right next to me now, and I can see her eyes, wide with that familiar spark of tension.

  “She’s close,” I repeat, trying to reassure myself. But there’s doubt creeping in.

  Laika is out here. But something’s watching us, too. Something I can’t see.

  The air grows heavier, as if the forest itself is holding its breath. The growl, low and guttural, echoes again. But this time, it’s different—closer. Not just a faint, fleeting sound, but the rumbling of something much bigger.

  I freeze.

  Jaxe and Zia do the same, their bodies tense, ready to react. The air feels too thick now. Too quiet.

  Another growl. A long, drawn-out sound, vibrating in the trees. It’s not a wolf—this one’s deeper, more primal. More… dangerous.

  I take a step back, my hands instinctively clenching into fists at my sides, my mind racing. No weapons. Nothing but what we were born with—our claws, our teeth, our speed—the natural instincts of a wolf.

  The branches shift just to the right—heavy, slow. Something large is pushing its way through the underbrush. Too large to be one of us. The smell of earth, damp moss, and fur is thick now. The scent of something wild.

  And then, from the shadows, a massive shape lumbers forward.

  A bear. No, bigger than a bear. A hulking beast—its fur matted, eyes gleaming with an unnatural intelligence. Its massive paws crush leaves beneath it as it lumbers closer, the air around it crackling with energy.

  I don’t move. Can’t move.

  The beast stares at us, standing tall on its hind legs for a moment, as if it’s deciding whether or not we’re worth its time. A low rumble comes from its chest, a warning.

  “It’s too big,” Zia mutters, eyes wide.

  “It’s not natural,” Jaxe adds, voice tight, muscles coiled in readiness.

  I grit my teeth, heart pounding in my chest. My instincts scream to fight, to run, but there’s something about the way the creature stands—too still, too calculated—that makes me hesitate.

  It watches us for a moment longer, then lets out a low, rumbling huff, like it’s bored with us.

  The beast turns, lumbering off into the trees as silently as it had appeared, its massive frame disappearing into the darkening forest.

  For a long moment, I don’t speak. Neither does anyone else.

  “What the hell was that?” Jaxe’s voice is low, still shaken.

  “I don’t know,” I say quietly, trying to shake the unease creeping through me. “But that wasn’t a normal bear. That was something else.”

  Zia’s eyes are narrowing as she looks at me, her posture still defensive, muscles tight and ready for anything. “Maybe it’s been following us. Waiting for an opening.”

  I nod slowly, the air still buzzing with the aftershock of the encounter. The creature might have been an interruption, but it was a reminder of how dangerous this place can be. A reminder that we’re not alone out here.

  The wind picks up, carrying Laika’s scent again. Stronger now. Clearer.

  She’s still out there.

  I swallow hard. We can’t let anything stop us. Not this beast, not anything else.

  “We move on,” I say finally, my voice steady despite the adrenaline still rushing through my veins. “Keep close. And keep alert.”

  Zia and Jaxe nod, their eyes still scanning the trees, the shadows, their senses heightened. No one says another word as we move forward, the strange growl of the creature echoing in the distance, still present, still waiting.

  But this time… we don’t stop.

  The forest feels heavier now, each step echoing like a drum in the quiet air. The growl of the bear—or whatever the hell that thing was—still hangs in the back of my mind, making every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves feel more sinister than it should.

  Laika’s scent is still fresh. There’s no mistaking it. But every time we get closer, it seems to lead us in a different direction, as though she’s one step ahead of us, just out of reach.

  I look to Jaxe and Zia. The tension in their postures is palpable, their ears twitching at every sound. They’re as on edge as I am.

  The wind shifts, and Laika’s scent becomes stronger again. It’s so close now that I can almost taste it on the air. I breathe it in deeply, but the moment it settles in my lungs, something else catches my attention.

  Another scent.

  It’s faint. Almost imperceptible. But it’s there. A darker scent. Heavier. I can’t place it, but it doesn’t feel right.

  I glance at Zia and Jaxe, both of them pausing mid-step, their heads turning sharply in unison. They’ve caught it too.

  “Do you smell that?” Zia asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “I smell it,” I reply, my voice low. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up again, the primal instinct telling me to be wary.

  I take a step forward, following Laika’s scent. The direction is still the same, but something is off. That other smell… it lingers. And it’s growing stronger the further we go.

  Another crack in the underbrush, louder this time. A quick movement. Something big is out there. I stop again, holding up my hand.

  “Stay close.”

  We move forward again, each step cautious, measured. The trees seem to close in on us, their shadows stretching across the ground like fingers, reaching.

  Then, another sound. Soft at first, like something rustling in the leaves.

  A sharp intake of breath from Jaxe.

  Something is watching us.

  Without warning, there’s a sudden burst of movement—a blur through the trees. It’s fast, too fast to be any normal animal.

  I lunge forward instinctively, but I can’t catch it in time.

  “Did you see that?” Jaxe’s voice is tight with the shock of it. “What the hell was that?”

  I shake my head, frustration building. “I don’t know. But it’s not Laika.”

  We keep moving. And then—there—Laika’s scent again, stronger than ever. She’s near. So close.

  I can feel my pulse thumping in my ears now. The animal inside me is on the edge of breaking free. She’s out here. I know it. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being toyed with.

  Another sound—this time, a low growl. The same growl from earlier.

  It’s too close this time.

  I whirl around, eyes scanning the trees. Something is lurking just out of sight.

  Then, the air shifts.

  Laika’s scent, finally, fills my nose with its full intensity. It’s unmistakable. She’s close—closer than she’s ever been. But still, that other smell lingers.

  Before I can move, something rips through the air.

  A blur of movement. The trees shake. The growl rumbles again, louder this time, just ahead.

  We’re not alone. We’re being surrounded.

  And then, from the shadows, another shape emerges. It’s a massive wolf—a shadow of dark fur, eyes gleaming with an unnatural malice.

  It stands tall, looking down at us. Its gaze is cold, calculating. Not a normal wolf. I feel it in my bones.

  This… this is the beast that’s been toying with us.

  I can feel the hair on my neck bristle, my teeth bared. This isn’t Laika. This isn’t anything familiar. This is something other.

  It steps forward, its powerful frame moving like liquid through the trees. It’s toying with us, circling.

  I hold my ground, every instinct screaming at me to fight, but my focus is unwavering. Laika is close. I can feel it.

  The beast doesn’t move. It watches us with a hunger that gnaws at the edge of my mind.

  “Stay ready,” I mutter to Jaxe and Zia. They’re already shifting their weight, preparing to spring into action. But I can’t make the first move—not until I know.

  Not until I’m sure.

  And then—Laika’s scent again. Stronger.

  I feel it before I see it.

  She’s close.

  She’s here.

  The dark wolf circles us, its eyes never leaving my own. There’s a sickening gleam in its gaze, a malevolent hunger that claws at my chest. It’s waiting for us to make a move, testing us. But I’m done waiting. Done being played with.

  The air crackles with tension as I hold my ground, my body poised to strike.

  The wolf lunges.

  It’s fast. Too fast. But I’m faster. Before it can even close the distance, something snaps through the air—sharp, deadly, and unrelenting. It’s a blur of motion, too quick to follow. A shadow within shadows.

  Laika—or rather, the monster in her skin—moves like liquid fury.

  A vicious snarl echoes in the night as her claws tear through the air, a silver flash, her body coiling and striking with terrifying precision. The beast is too slow to react, too sluggish compared to the fury that rips through its throat. The force is brutal, effortless. It’s over in a heartbeat.

  The wolf crumples to the ground, lifeless before it even hits the earth. A single strike. One swift, deadly blow.

  I can hardly process what just happened. My brain can’t keep up with what my eyes are telling me.

  Zia and Jaxe don’t move either. We’re all frozen, staring at the body of the beast lying motionless in the dirt. Blood pools slowly beneath it, dark and thick, spreading out into the forest floor.

  Laika—or rather, her wolf in control—stands tall over the body. Her breath is shallow, eyes wild. But in them… there’s nothing of the Laika I know. Only an insatiable, feral hunger. The cold calculation of a predator that doesn’t hesitate.

  She doesn’t spare a glance at us. She just… turns.

  The world feels suspended. The moment hangs in the air, charged with something primal and unrelenting.

  Her steps are measured, deliberate. Her gaze flicks to us for the briefest second before she turns away and starts moving through the trees. The silence that follows is deafening.

  Jaxe is the first to move, but it’s too late. She’s already gone. Just like that.

  “What the hell…?” Zia mutters, her voice a mix of awe and confusion.

  I can’t bring myself to speak, my mind still reeling from what I just witnessed. The sheer power… the ruthlessness. It was Laika, but not Laika. This was something else. Something far darker.

  We’ve all seen what she’s capable of, but this—this wasn’t her. Not the Laika we know. This was her wolf. And her wolf is dangerous.

  And now, she’s gone.

  I turn sharply, trying to follow the faintest trace of her scent. But it’s already starting to fade, lost in the night air. My heart sinks.

  Jaxe takes a step forward, his expression dark. “We have to move. She can’t be far.”

  “Agreed,” I say, though my voice feels hollow, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. The frustration is gnawing at my insides. She was this close, so close to being back in my arms… and yet, she slipped away again.

  My gaze flits to the fallen wolf, still lying motionless in the dirt. The blood around it is still fresh. Laika—or rather, her wolf—killed it without a second thought.

  I close my eyes for a moment, trying to push the image from my mind. We can’t let this stop us. Not now.

  We move forward again, Jaxe and Zia flanking me. The tension hasn’t gone away—it’s thick, suffocating. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s still out there, somewhere, just beyond our reach. But there’s something else now, too. Something that gnaws at my gut.

  Her wolf was in control. But I don’t know how much longer Laika will be able to keep her at bay.

  And the thought makes me sick to my core.

  The silence feels like it’s pressing in on me, the weight of the moment heavy in the air. I can’t bring myself to move. I’m still standing there, staring at the wolf’s lifeless body, the blood pooling beneath it like a dark stain in the dirt.

  What just happened?

  Laika—no, not Laika—her wolf, she… she killed it. Without a second thought. Without hesitation. I know she’s capable of killing, but that? That was brutal. Cold. There was no mercy in her. No hesitation.

  I glance over at Jaxe and Zia, both of them frozen in place, their eyes wide, their breaths shallow. Neither of them seems able to move, like the force of what they just saw is holding them in place.

  Zia is the first to speak, her voice low, almost reverent. “Did she—did she just kill it like that? With one strike?”

  Jaxe shifts his weight, his gaze flickering between the wolf’s body and where Laika just disappeared into the trees. “It wasn’t even a fight,” he mutters, his voice heavy with disbelief. “She—” He stops, swallowing hard. “She made it look easy.”

  The silence stretches out again. The forest around us feels so still now, like the entire world is holding its breath, waiting.

  I force myself to take a step forward. My feet feel like they’re glued to the ground, heavy and uncooperative. My thoughts are tangled, but the only thing I can focus on is that damn scent—the one that pulled me here in the first place. It’s still there, lingering in the air, mixed with the blood and the fear.

  But then—nothing.

  No movement. No sound. No sign of Laika. She’s gone.

  I growl under my breath, frustration burning in my chest. This is it. She’s slipping away again. Again.

  “We have to move,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend, my teeth grinding together. The urgency in my tone seems to shake Zia and Jaxe from their stupor. They start moving with me, but there’s a hesitation in their steps, like they’re not sure if they should be following me or if they’re supposed to be waiting for something more.

  I stop again, forcing myself to breathe slowly. Calm. I can’t let my desperation get the better of me. Not now.

  I turn to Jaxe, my eyes narrowing. “Where’d she go?” I ask, though I already know the answer. But I need to hear it.

  Jaxe’s gaze flickers to the forest, to the trees where Laika disappeared. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, but there’s nothing in the air. She’s vanished.

  “She’s gone, Apolloh,” Zia says, her voice sharp, the words biting. There’s a tinge of regret there, but it doesn’t match the growing desperation in me. “She’s not here anymore.”

  I can feel the heat rising in my chest, anger swelling in my veins. She was so close. So close. I could feel it. She was right there. And now she’s gone.

  Again.

  My fingers clench into fists. This can’t keep happening. I won’t let it.

  “We keep moving,” I say, more to myself than to them. But they obey. Of course, they do. They’ve seen this side of me before.

  But it doesn’t help. Every step I take feels like I’m sinking deeper into a void, like the ground beneath me is shifting with every move. Her scent is still there, faint. But it’s fading. And with it, my hope.

  We push on for what feels like an eternity, the path ahead just as elusive as the one behind us. The trees blur together. The wind picks up, whistling through the branches, carrying with it the distant, haunting sound of something—or someone—moving in the shadows.

  Another rustle. A soft crack in the underbrush. I freeze.

  Jaxe and Zia freeze too, their eyes wide, every muscle tensed, every instinct alert. It could be Laika. It could be the beast again. It could be… anything.

  I don’t move. My breath is slow, controlled. But my heart is hammering in my chest. I can feel it—the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

  Another movement.

  This time, it’s closer.

  I turn toward the sound, teeth bared, muscles coiling. Whoever—whatever—is out there isn’t getting away again.

  I push forward, but before I can take another step, something sharp digs into the air. A flash of movement—too fast. Too quick.

  Her scent.

  Laika’s scent.

  It’s so strong, so overpowering, it almost makes me stumble. She’s close. Closer than I thought.

  I take a few more steps forward, my eyes scanning the darkened trees.

  And then—

  The brush rustles one last time.

  A figure darts out from the shadows. I can’t see clearly at first, but the shape—her shape—is unmistakable. Laika.

  But she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even slow down.

  She’s running.

  Her eyes flicker to mine, just for a brief second. It’s her. But it’s not. The same cold, predatory look I saw earlier flashes in her gaze. Her breath is jagged, her movements fluid, almost instinctual. There’s no hesitation.

  Not anymore.

  Before I can even react, she’s gone—disappearing into the shadows, vanishing once more.

  I’m left standing there, my chest tight, my heart thundering in my ears.

  I don’t even have the strength to move for a long moment. And when I finally do, it’s just a few steps forward, nothing more.

  She’s gone.

  And this time, I’m not sure if she’ll ever come back.

  Determined to get her back—to comfort her, I run.

  Just run.

  That’s all I can do.

  Jaxe and Zia are close behind. I can hear their paws crunching the leaves.

  It should be comforting, knowing they’re with me, but all I feel is this gnawing urgency. She’s out there. She’s somewhere in this forest. I can find her. That’s all that matters now.

  I push myself harder, my legs burning, my body protesting, but the thought of losing her again—of never getting to her in time—keeps me moving. The pain, the exhaustion, all of it fades away.

  The wind stings my face as I keep running, the scent of her growing stronger. I can feel it in the air, like an invisible thread pulling me in her direction, and I follow it, unable to stop.

  Then, I hear it.

  A rustle in the trees.

  A flicker of movement ahead.

  I slow just enough to listen. My heart races, and I force myself to breathe steadily, to stay calm.

  Is it her?

  No. Not yet.

  Jaxe’s voice cuts through the air, low and urgent. “Apolloh, you’re pushing too hard. We need to slow down and track her carefully.”

  I don’t respond. I can’t. Every fiber of my being is telling me to keep moving. I can feel it now—the pounding of my heart, the sharp breaths in my lungs, everything telling me I’m getting closer.

  I’m so close.

  And then, there—just beyond the next thicket, her scent is overpowering, rich and wild, mixed with something else. Something darker.

  Without thinking, I surge forward, crashing through the underbrush, every instinct screaming that I have to catch her.

  But then—

  There she is.

  She’s standing just beyond the clearing, her form like a shadow in the moonlight. She’s not moving.

  Not like I expect.

  And when she turns her head, her eyes—those eyes—cold and distant, stare through me.

  Not her. Not my Laika.

  I freeze.

  For a split second, I almost believe I’m hallucinating. I almost believe she’s not real.

  But she is. She’s standing right there, and the presence of her—of the wolf inside her—feels like an animal, feral and wild. The very air around us seems to bend, to ripple in response to her.

  I take a step forward, but the air shifts, and the scent changes again. It’s heavier now, laced with something I can’t place.

  The wolf in front of me isn’t my Laika.

  I don’t know whose wolf it is, but it’s not hers.

  Jaxe and Zia arrive beside me, both of them cautious, eyes scanning the dark. They freeze when they see the wolf.

  I can feel the tension in the air, thick as fog.

  Without warning, she turns her head away from us, her muscles taut, the air around her crackling.

  She’s not scared of us. She’s not even considering us as a threat.

  In an instant, she shifts, moving with a speed so unnatural it almost hurts to watch. The wolf in front of us is gone, replaced by… her.

  Laika—no, the wolf—she’s here, standing tall in front of us, her eyes dark and dangerous.

  I open my mouth to speak, to call to her, but nothing comes out. The wolf, her wolf, takes a slow, deliberate step forward.

  I feel it before I even see it.

  She’s coming for us.

  My body reacts before my mind catches up, stepping back instinctively. The air feels charged, thick with her power. And then she strikes.

  It’s so quick, I can barely comprehend it. One moment she’s standing in front of us, and the next, she’s on Jaxe. Her claws tear toward him with a viciousness that I can barely understand. He doesn’t even have time to react.

  But Jaxe’s first priority is protecting her. His arm swings wide, his body moving in a fluid arc as he positions himself in front of her, intercepting the blows.

  Jaxe is fast. But he’s more focused on blocking her attacks than fighting back. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He’s trying to shield her—her stomach, her sides.

  He grunts as her claws make contact with his chest. Blood spills from the cuts, but he doesn’t give in. He shifts slightly, his shoulders hunched, aiming to deflect her blows away from the vulnerable parts of her body.

  Zia lunges forward, her teeth snapping at the air, but Jaxe holds his hand out, stopping her. “Stay back!”

  I can barely comprehend what’s happening. I can’t see Laika, can’t see my mate beneath the fury of her wolf. But in the chaos of it all, Jaxe gets a hold of the situation. His large frame lurches forward, pushing the wolf off, his strength proving enough to break her momentary focus.

  The wolf pauses, her wild eyes flashing toward me.

  It’s Laika.

  It’s my Laika.

  But she doesn’t wait for me to react.

  Without warning, she darts forward, faster than any wolf I’ve ever seen, and she’s gone in the blink of an eye.

  I’m almost there.

  I’m so close.

  But then—her steps falter.

  For a brief second, the wildness in her eyes fades, just enough for me to see her—my Laika—fighting for control. It’s barely noticeable, a flicker in the depths of her gaze, but I see it. I see her struggling against the wolf inside her, the same force that’s driven her away from me, driven her to flee.

  Laika. You’re still in there. The thought comes like a whisper, like a prayer.

  I don’t stop running. I won’t. I can’t.

  Then—she stumbles, as if the weight of her own power is too much. Her body heaves, and for the briefest of moments, she almost collapses.

  But then, something shifts.

  With a raw, desperate force, Laika’s body trembles, and I hear it—her voice, no longer muffled by the wolf.

  “Stop… please…” The words are broken, strained, but they’re hers.

  Her legs give way beneath her, and I watch in awe and desperation as she fights to regain control, forcing the beast back, fighting against the pull of the wildness, the madness of the wolf that’s taken over her.

  She gasps, like someone breaking the surface of water after being submerged too long, and then, finally—finally—she collapses to the ground.

  Her chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, and the weariness of her struggle is evident in every part of her. She’s shaking, broken, but she’s back.

  Laika.

  I kneel beside her, heart pounding in my chest, but I don’t move too fast. I don’t want to scare her. I don’t want her to pull away again.

  She’s so fragile now. So weary.

  I reach for her gently, my hand trembling as I cradle her face, brushing strands of hair from her forehead. My touch is soft, delicate. I can’t help it. She’s here. She’s with me.

  I let my palm rest against her stomach, pressing lightly. I feel the faintest flutter of life beneath my hand, but my mind doesn’t ease. My thoughts race, flashing with worry. Will she be alright? The pup, growing inside her. She’s been through so much, and I know she needs rest, but I can’t help but fear for her. For them.

  “Laika…” My voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

  Her eyes flicker open, still glazed with exhaustion, but she meets my gaze. There’s so much emotion in her eyes—relief, pain, confusion, fear. But it’s all tangled together, like a knot she can’t untie.

  She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to.

  I hold her as gently as I can, brushing my thumb across her cheek, the overwhelming urge to protect her flooding through me. She’s shaking against me, and I know she’s not just physically exhausted.

  This—everything—has broken her in ways I can’t even understand.

  But I’ll be here. I’ll stay here, for her. For the pup.

  “Rest,” I murmur. “You’re safe now.”

  And I hold her close, feeling the steady pulse beneath my palm, the slow rhythm of her heart and the tiny life within her.

  We have to make it through this. Together.