Chapter 6

Another shot. Closer.

Then the howl.

It rips through the compound like a siren, low and furious, and every wolf answers. The sound crawls up my spine and digs in. My legs want to run. My teeth ache. I taste blood where I bit my tongue.

I grab the file. Shove it in my jacket.

The door slams open.

Cain.

Shirtless. Barefoot. Eyes full gold. No human left. Just Alpha. Just rage.

"They're here," he says.

I don't ask who.

"How many?"

"Twenty. Maybe more." He grabs my wrist. His hand's burning. "Marcus is at the gate."

My stomach drops.

"He's—"

"Calling for you. By name."

I yank free. My heart's slamming so hard I feel it in my teeth. "What's he want?"

"What do you think?" Cain moves closer. His chest's heaving. "You went into the archives. Found something. Now your foster daddy's here with silver and a kill squad."

I don't answer. Can't. He's right.

Another howl cuts through. Closer. Panicked. Young—maybe one of the juveniles from yesterday's training yard.

"They're shooting to provoke," Cain says. "Want us to charge. Then they mow us down, call it self-defense." He grabs my shoulders. Claws out. They prick through my jacket. "Tell me you didn't tip him off."

"I didn't."

"Then how'd he know you'd be here?"

I meet his eyes. Gold on gold. The wolf in me's awake. Wants to bare teeth. Run. *Fight*.

"I don't know." Truth. I didn't call. Didn't text. Didn't leave a trail. But he's here. Like he's been watching. Like he knew.

Cain lets go. Turns. His back's a mess—claw marks, silver burns, bullet graze across his ribs.

"Get dressed," he says. "You're coming."

"Where?"

"The gate. Before he kills someone." He looks back. Face hard. "And if you run, Rena, I hunt you myself."

Gone before I can answer.

I grab my boots. Knife. Glock's still in my bag, loaded with silver. I check the chamber. Thirteen rounds. Enough to drop Marcus.

My hands shake.

Outside's chaos. Wolves everywhere—shifted, halfway, human but barely. Ella's at the center, barking orders, shoving juveniles toward the bunker under the main hall. She sees me. Goes white.

"You," she says. "You brought them."

I don't argue. She's not wrong.

"Ella—"

"Go." She shoves a kid toward the bunker. Can't be more than twelve. Yellow eyes. Clawed hands. "Cain's waiting. Marcus sees you standing here, he'll burn this whole place."

I run.

The gate's at the north edge—past the training yard, past the old cabins. Cattle guard and chain-link with a rusted sign. *Private Property.* Only road in.

Marcus is standing in the middle of it.

Twenty hunters behind him. Silver Oath. All armed. I recognize them—Davies with the crossbow, Chen with the shotgun, Martinez who taught me to shoot when I was nine. Spread out in a half-circle. Rifles up. Silver rounds glinting under the floodlights Marcus brought.

Full tactical. Vest, helmet. But his face is bare.

Looking right at me.

"Rena," he calls. Voice calm. Too calm. "Come here."

I stop ten feet from the gate. Cain beside me. Pack behind—thirty wolves, maybe more. All shifted or halfway. Air stinks of adrenaline and fur and something else. Chemical. Silver dust. Marcus sprayed the perimeter.

"Stay back," Cain says. Still human-shaped. Barely. Voice like gravel. "One more step and I'll—"

"You'll what?" Marcus cuts in. Doesn't look at Cain. Just me. "Rena. Last chance. Step over the line. We'll deal with the bite. Still time."

My throat's dry. Wolf in me's howling. Wants to run. Wants to *stay*. Doesn't know which.

"Deal with it how?" I ask.

Marcus's jaw tightens. "You know how."

Silver bullet. Clean. Quick. Before the first full moon.

That's the rule.

But I've seen the file. Know what he did. Know why.

"You killed them," I say. Voice cracks. "My parents. You killed them and took me."

Marcus doesn't blink. "I saved you."

"You *used* me." Words rip out. Pack's silent behind me. Cain's hand on my shoulder. I shake it off. "Trained me to kill wolves so I'd never ask why I was different. Why the moon hurt. Why I could smell things."

"You're not different," Marcus says. "You're *bitten*. And if you don't come back, you'll turn into the same thing that killed your unit."

He lifts his rifle. Points past me. At Cain.

"Step away from the Alpha, Rena."

I don't move.

"Rena."

"No."

Marcus's finger slides to the trigger. "That's an order."

"I'm not Silver Oath anymore."

The pack growls. One voice, thirty throats. Sound rolls through the clearing like thunder.

Marcus doesn't flinch. His squad does. Rifles swing. Safeties click off.

"Last chance," Marcus says.

Cain steps forward. Between me and the guns. His hand finds mine. Squeezes.

"She's pack now," he says. Loud. Clear. Every wolf hears. Every hunter hears. "My mate. You want her, you go through me."

The bond snaps.

I feel it like a fist in my chest. Cain's scent floods—pine and smoke and blood—and the wolf *screams*. Knees buckle. He catches me. Arm around my waist. Mouth at my ear.

"Play along," he whispers. "Or we both die."

I look up. Marcus is staring. Face stone. Hand shaking.

He lowers the rifle.

Then raises it again. Points at my chest.

"Ren," he says. Soft. Almost gentle. The name he gave me when I was six. Haven't heard it in years. "Come home."

I don't know if he's gonna pull the trigger.

Don't know if I care.

Cain's grip tightens. His breath's hot against my neck. Heart pounding against my back. Pack's growling, low and steady, waiting for the Alpha's word. Waiting for *my* word.

Marcus's finger twitches.

"Ren," he says again. "Please."

And for the first time since I was six years old, I hear him beg.