Chapter 3 Lazarus

Orders have a way of revealing men for what they are. To most, they were just lines carved in dirt and trees, but to me they were living things. Fragile. Demanding. Always shifting under the pressure of rogues. At dawn, I had set out to ride the eastern edge of our territory, the part that had been quiet for weeks. Too quiet.

The air carried the sharp bite of pine and wet soil. My wolf was restless under my skin, ears tuned to every sound, nose drinking in every scent. I slowed, crouched low, and then I caught it—a scent that didn’t belong. Musk. Sour, rancid, unwashed. Rogue.

The first came out of the shadows with a snarl. Two more followed. I shifted before thought could catch up, bones cracking, fur spilling, my body breaking into the beast. Teeth met teeth. Claws tore through skin. The fight was fast, brutal. I killed one, ripped through the throat of another, but not before their claws raked deep into my side. The third fled, blood trailing in his wake. I wanted to chase. My wolf howled for it. But my body was slower, my wounds heavier. Each step grew harder.

I pushed on, blood dripping into the earth, searching for shelter. I had to shift back soon, but the pain was too sharp, my wolf too spent. My strength bled out with every movement. Then, through the trees, a new scent reached me. Not rogue. Not wolf. Farm. Animals. Humans.

I stumbled toward it, following the earthy warmth of livestock. My vision blurred, but instinct took over when I found a small lamb huddled near the fence. My wolf did what it had to. Survival. Teeth sank in, hot blood filling my mouth, strength slowly crawling back into my limbs. There was no pleasure in it. No cruelty. Just need. When it was over, I collapsed into the dirt, belly heavy, body trembling. The barn loomed ahead, smelling of hay and safety. My paws dragged me inside. Darkness closed in, and I let it.

When I opened my eyes again, sunlight poured through cracks in the wood. I was on my back, human now, skin sticky with sweat and blood. The air was heavy with hay, leather, and the faint sour of animals. My head throbbed, my muscles ached, but I was alive.

I sat up slowly, my chest bare, skin marked with fresh scars and dried blood. The barn was quiet except for the low shuffle of hooves and the soft snorts of animals. Then it hit me. A scent so sharp and sweet it cut through everything else. Not hay. Not earth. Something warmer, fresher, like flowers blooming through rain. My wolf stirred instantly, head lifting inside me. My breath caught as I turned toward it.

She sat only a few feet away, a rake leaning against her chair, a cow pressed close to her side like a guard. She was small, shorter than most wolves I knew, but there was nothing fragile in her posture. Her hair spilled around her face, silver in the light. And her eyes—blue, piercing, as if they saw straight through me. The scent was hers. It wrapped around me, sank into my lungs, and settled there like it had always belonged.

I was still staring when the cow let out a loud, sharp moo that rattled the barn. She jerked awake, those blue eyes snapping to mine, and in a blink her hand was on the rake. She shot to her feet, her body tense, wild, ready to strike.

I barely had time to move when she swung. The rake cut the air where my head had been seconds before. She didn’t hesitate. Her voice rose with each word, sharp as the weapon she held.

For a heartbeat, I stood frozen, watching her. She was nothing like the women I had seen in the pack, polished and eager to please, hiding their true selves behind smiles. No, this one… she was raw, carved from the soil and the wind, fierce in her anger, unyielding in her stance. Her eyes burned with a fire that made my chest tighten. They were the first thing that caught me—clear, sharp, carrying both fury and something I could not name, something that felt like it reached straight into me and held on. My wolf went still inside me, as if the world had narrowed to just her gaze.

Her hair clung to her face in messy strands, as if she had been working before I ever disturbed her peace. There was dirt on her cheek, but it did not dim her beauty; if anything, it made her look untouchable, like someone who belonged to the earth itself and not to men like me. The way she held that rake, steady and unflinching, told me she wasn’t afraid, even if she should have been. Most people looked at me and saw danger, but she looked at me like I was nothing more than a problem to be dealt with.

I hated that it pulled something out of me, something I had buried long ago. Respect. Curiosity. A dangerous kind of want. My wolf stirred, pressing against the edges of my control, whining like a restless pup. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to close the distance between us, to touch her, to make sense of the maddening sweetness in her scent that wrapped itself around me. It was wrong. I came here for shelter, not this. And yet I couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop breathing her in, couldn’t stop the ache building in my chest, telling me she was something more than a stranger.

“You ruthless monster! Do you know nothing about boundaries? You come here, tear through my animals like they’re nothing, and think you can just lie here and sleep?” Her eyes burned, her grip on the rake white-knuckled.

I lifted my hands in defense, but she wasn’t done. “Anthony! You killed Anthony!”

My brows drew together, confused. “Who—”

“My goat,” she snapped. “You killed my goat.”

It was absurd enough to nearly pull a laugh from me. Who names their goat Anthony? But the rage on her face was no joke. Her chest heaved, her words spilling faster, angrier, as though she couldn’t stop. “You wolves. You’re all the same. Destroyers. You take and take and leave nothing but pain. Just like the rest of them.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, but she covered it with more fury, stepping closer, swinging the rake again. I caught the handle before it struck, twisting it out of her grip with ease, but she didn’t falter. She stormed past me toward the barn doors.

“Wait.” My hand shot out before I thought, fingers wrapping around her arm.

The moment I touched her, the world changed.

A shock raced through me, hot and electric, straight to the marrow. My wolf roared, claws raking at the inside of my chest, demanding, claiming. Her scent flooded me, sharper now, undeniable. My heart slammed against my ribs, and for the first time in years, my control slipped.

She froze too, her body going still under my hand. Her eyes widened, fear flickering across them before hardening into anger. I could feel her pulse racing beneath her skin, feel her fighting the same pull that gripped me.

I leaned closer, my voice rough, unsteady, the truth heavy on my tongue. “You’re mine.”

The words echoed in the barn, thick and final. She stared at me like I had cursed her, and maybe I had. Because nothing would ever be the same now.