Chapter 4

"They know we're here," I say.

Cain glances over. "You can hear them."

It's not a question. I don't bother answering. My hand goes to the suppressor patch Ella slapped on my arm before we left the clinic, the one that's supposed to mask the hunter scent baked into my skin from years of silver dust and wolfsbane oil. It itches like hell.

"Patch won't hold forever," Cain says. He's watching my hand. "Maybe six hours if you're lucky. After that, they'll smell what you are."

"Then we better make this quick."

He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You really think you can walk in, ask some questions, and walk out before the pack figures it out?"

"That's the plan."

"Your plan sucks."

I kick the door open and drop down onto the dirt. The air out here is different. Heavier. It presses against my skin like it's testing me, like the forest itself knows I don't belong.

Cain gets out on his side. He's still moving like nothing's wrong, like we're just taking a walk, but I catch the way his eyes flick toward the trees. The way his shoulders tighten.

He's scared.

Not of me. Of what's waiting in there.

"Stay close," he says. "Don't talk unless I tell you to. Don't look anyone in the eye. And if someone asks you a direct question, you smile and let me answer."

"I'm not a dog."

"No. You're worse." He steps closer, drops his voice. "You're a hunter pretending to be my mate, and if they figure that out, they'll rip you apart before I can stop them." His breath is warm against my temple. "You want the truth about your foster father? Then shut up and follow my lead."

I want to punch him. Instead I nod.

We walk.

The trees swallow us whole. No path, no trail markers, just Cain moving through the underbrush like he's done it a thousand times. I follow, and I hate how easy it is. How my body knows where to step, how to move without snapping branches, how to breathe in sync with the forest.

This isn't me. This is the bite.

The heartbeats get louder. Closer. I count twelve. Fifteen. Twenty.

Then I see the first one.

A kid. Maybe ten years old, crouched on a low branch twenty feet up. He's got dark hair and yellow eyes that track us like a hawk watching mice. He doesn't blink.

"That's Mateo," Cain says quietly. "He's a scout. Don't wave."

I wasn't going to.

We keep walking. More eyes in the trees now. More shapes moving parallel to us, just out of sight. They're not hiding. They're escorting.

The forest opens up into a clearing.

I stop.

There are buildings here. Cabins, some of them, but also older structures, half-stone and half-wood, like someone started building a village and then got bored halfway through. Smoke rises from a central fire pit. Clothes hang on lines strung between trees. A couple of dirt bikes lean against a shed.

It looks normal. Too normal.

Except for the people.

They're everywhere. Sitting on porch steps, working on something under a tarp, walking between cabins with armfuls of firewood. At least thirty of them. Men, women, kids. All of them stop what they're doing the second we step into the clearing.

All of them stare.

"Smile," Cain mutters.

I don't.

A woman breaks from the group near the fire. She's older, maybe fifty, with gray streaks in her black hair and a scar running from her temple to her jaw. She's wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, but the way she moves makes me think of Marcus. That same controlled violence, that same ready-to-snap tension.

"Alpha," she says. Her voice carries across the clearing. "You brought a guest."

"I brought my mate," Cain says.

The woman's eyes flick to me. Then down to my arm, where the patch sits under my sleeve.

My stomach drops.

"Does she have a name?" the woman asks.

"Rena," Cain says before I can answer. "Rena, this is Vera. She's one of the pack elders."

Vera doesn't offer her hand. She just keeps staring at me like she's trying to see through my skin.

"She doesn't smell like pack," Vera says.

"She's not pack yet," Cain replies. "That's why we're here."

Vera's mouth tightens. "You didn't clear this with the council."

"I'm clearing it now."

The air shifts. I feel it before I see it—the way the other wolves move closer, the way their posture changes. They're not curious anymore. They're deciding.

Vera takes a step forward. "You know the rules, Cain. Outsiders don't enter pack land without a full council vote. Especially not—"

She stops.

Her eyes lock onto my arm again. This time she moves fast, closing the distance between us in two strides, and before I can pull back she's yanking my sleeve up.

The patch comes loose.

The bite mark underneath is black. Not bruised-black. Ink-black, like someone tattooed it into my skin, spreading out from the puncture wounds in thin branching lines that look like roots or veins or something worse.

Vera goes pale.

"What the hell is that?" she whispers.

Cain steps between us, but he doesn't push her away. He's staring at my arm too, and for the first time since I met him, he looks rattled.

"It's a mark," he says.

"That's not a mark." Vera's voice is shaking now. "That's a corruption bite. I've seen one before, Cain. Twenty years ago, right before—"

She stops. Looks at him. Then at me.

"Where did you find her?"

"Border town," Cain says. "She was hunting."

The clearing goes dead quiet.

Vera takes a step back. Her hand goes to her hip, where I now see the outline of a knife handle under her shirt.

"You brought a hunter here," she says slowly. "You bit a hunter, gave her your blood, and brought her into our territory."

"I can explain—"

"Explain to the council." Vera's voice cracks like a whip. "Now."

The wolves around us move in tighter. I count at least ten within striking distance, and I don't have a weapon. My gun's back in Cain's truck. My silver knife is in the glove box. All I have is the bite and whatever the hell it's doing to my body.

Cain doesn't move. "Vera, listen—"

"No." She cuts him off. "You listen. That girl has a corruption bite. The last time we saw one of those, the Silver Oath massacred half our pack. You think I'm gonna let you walk her into the heart of our home without answers?"

She jerks her chin toward two of the younger wolves. "Take her to the holding cabin. Don't let her leave."

They start toward me.

Cain shifts, putting himself in their path. His voice drops into something that isn't quite human anymore. "Touch her and you're challenging me."

The wolves stop.

Vera doesn't. She steps up next to Cain, close enough that I can see the scars on her knuckles, the silver burn on her wrist.

"Then maybe it's time someone did," she says quietly.

Behind her, a door opens. Another woman steps out, younger than Vera but older than me, wearing a medical bag slung over one shoulder. She's got soft features and tired eyes, and when she sees my arm, she freezes.

"Ella," Vera snaps. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that's not what I think it is."

Ella walks closer. She doesn't say anything, just reaches out and touches the black veins spreading from the bite. Her fingers are cold.

She pulls back. Looks at Cain. Then at me.

"It's not a corruption bite," she says.

Vera exhales.

"It's worse," Ella adds. Her voice is barely a whisper. "That's a Bloodmark. The kind Alphas used to give their mates before the old laws broke."

The clearing goes silent again.

Vera stares at Cain. "You didn't."

Cain doesn't answer.

Ella's still looking at my arm. Her face is pale, and when she speaks again, her voice shakes.

"This shouldn't be possible," she says. "Bloodmarks only take if the bite happens during a blood moon. And the last blood moon was—"

She stops. Her eyes go wide.

"Cain," she says slowly. "When did you bite her?"

"Three nights ago," he says.

Ella shakes her head. "That's not possible. The lunar calendar says—"

"I know what it says."

"Then how—"

She stops. Looks at me again. This time her gaze drops lower, to the base of my throat, where I suddenly feel something warm under my skin. Something pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

Ella's face goes from pale to gray.

"Oh no," she whispers. "Cain, what did you do?"

He doesn't answer.

Ella takes a step back, then another. She's shaking her head like she's trying to deny what she's seeing.

"That's not just a Bloodmark," she says. Her voice cracks. "That's a Soulmark. You bound her."

Vera turns on Cain. "Explain. Right now."

Cain meets her eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't say anything.

Then he looks at me, and his expression is something I can't read.

"I can't," he says quietly. "Because I don't know how it happened either."