Chapter 7 SILVER AND SMOKE

Ronan moved like lightning.

One second we were standing there on the ridge, the next he was shoving me behind him, body solid as a wall between me and the southern tree line. His hand stayed on my arm...not clamping down, just there, steady and warm, like he needed to know exactly where I was in case the world went to hell.

“How many?” I breathed, heart already slamming against my ribs.

He was listening hard, head tilted, green eyes locked on the trees below. That predator stillness rolled off him so thick the air around us went sharp. “Three. Maybe four.” A beat. “Spread out. Flanking us like pros.”

Professional.

Not some weekend assholes who wandered onto pack land by mistake.

These were hunters who’d come here on purpose.

My wolf slammed forward so hard I almost stumbled. Not fear, pure fucking fury. The ancient, bone-deep rage of something that had been hunted before and was goddamn done running. Gold warmth flickered under my skin like a live wire about to blow.

“We gotta get off this ridge,” Ronan said low, voice tight. “We’re sitting ducks up here.”

“If we move they’ll hear...”

“They already know we’re here.” His jaw locked hard. “They were waiting for us to hit the ridge. Someone tipped them off about the patrol schedule.”

The words landed like ice water down my spine.

Someone inside Shadowpine.

I looked at him. His face said he’d already thought it, already filed it away under one more goddamn thing he had to carry.

“Garrett’s still down the ridge,” I said.

“I know.” He was already moving, low and fast, pulling me with him. “Come on.”

We made it maybe ten meters before the first shot cracked through the trees like thunder.

Silver round. I felt it in my teeth before the sound even hit... that nasty metallic vibration that made every wolf nerve scream. It slammed into a pine trunk two feet from my head and the silver in the bark sent out this hot, poisonous pulse that made my wolf recoil like she’d been burned.

I grabbed Ronan’s jacket and yanked him sideways hard.

The second shot whistled right through the space where he’d been standing.

He shot me one sharp look...gratitude mixed with something hotter, something that said he wasn’t used to anyone pulling his ass out of the fire.

“Move,” I growled.

We ran.

Not blind panic...Ronan knew every root and rock on this ridge like the back of his hand. He cut through the trees fast, me right on his heels, the world blurring into green and grey while shots popped off behind us. They weren’t trying to hit us clean anymore. They were herding us. Driving us toward the eastern drop where the ridge narrowed to a single choke point and two people would be easy as hell to pin down.

“They’re not trying to kill us,” I panted between strides. “They’re containing...”

“I know.” He veered hard left without breaking pace, plunging us into the thickest part of the pines where no sight line could hold longer than ten meters.

Smart.

But one of the bastards had already figured it out.

He stepped out from behind a tree dead in our path.

Big. Black tactical gear. Face covered. Weapon already up and locked on Ronan before either of us could adjust.

Time slowed to that sick, stretched-out second right before everything goes to shit...the one where you see every possible ending and have to pick the one you can live with.

Ronan was in front of me.

The gun was aimed at Ronan.

My wolf didn’t ask. She just took.

The light came roaring up...not the wild, uncontrolled flood from the border. This was focused. Deliberate. Like my wolf had reached into whatever my mother had sealed and yanked out exactly what we needed. Gold light poured through my veins, flooding down my arms and into my hands until it burned.

I stepped around Ronan.

The hunter’s weapon tracked to me.

The light hit him first.

Not violent...I still didn’t know how to make it violent, didn’t know how to turn this ancient shit into a weapon yet. It was more like standing too close to the sun. Pressure. Overwhelming. The hunter staggered back three full steps, weapon dropping, legs buckling like something massive had shoved him from the inside out.

He hit the ground hard.

Still breathing. Still conscious. Just… down.

I stood there with the gold light fading from my hands, my wolf enormous and wide awake inside me, and the whole freezing forest suddenly went dead quiet.

Ronan was staring at me.

That look. The same raw one from the border, from the corridor, from the ridge before the shooting started. All the careful walls he kept up stripped clean away by something too big to hide anymore.

“I’m fine,” I said before he could ask, voice rough.

“Lyra...”

“I’m fine.” My hands were shaking. I ignored it. “How many left?”

He dragged himself back from whatever he’d been about to say, listening hard. “Two. Garrett’s crew should be cutting them off from the east by...”

The radio crackled to life. Garrett’s voice came through tight and clipped. “Two down on the eastern path. One ran south. Ronan… we’ve got a problem.”

Ronan snatched the radio. “What problem?”

A pause that felt way too long.

“Packhouse. Someone tripped the inner perimeter alarm. We’ve got movement inside the territory.. not outside. Inside.”

The cold that hit me then had nothing to do with the December air.

Inside.

While the hunters on the ridge were busy drawing us away from the packhouse.

A fucking diversion.

We’d been split on purpose.

Ronan was already moving, hand locking around my arm. “Get everyone back to the packhouse. Now.” We ran.. full out, no more tactical bullshit, just flat sprinting through the trees with the radio spitting positions and Garrett’s voice barking orders and the cold burning in my lungs like fire.

The trees thinned.

The packhouse yard came into view.

Everything looked normal.

That was the worst part...the stone walls, the torches flickering, the ordinary afternoon quiet like nothing had happened. No smoke. No screams. Just… normal. And somehow that felt more terrifying than chaos would’ve.

Ronan slowed at the treeline, grip tightening on my arm, eyes scanning everything.

“Stay behind me,” he said.

“Ronan...”

“Please.” That word again. The one that cost him. “Please stay behind me.”

I looked at his face...jaw locked, green eyes burning with something fierce and protective and scared for me...and I did what he asked.

We crossed the yard fast and slipped through the back entrance.

The smell hit me like a slap.

Vanilla.

Faint. Fresh. Already fading but unmistakable.

I stopped dead.

Ronan went rigid beside me, whole body locking up like he’d been shot.

We looked at each other.

Vanilla.

Here.

Inside Shadowpine packhouse.

My wolf went completely silent...not the wounded quiet from the border, not the settled one from the ridge. The silence of something that had just seen the full picture and understood exactly how deep the knife went.

Serena hadn’t just sold me to hunters.

She’d come herself.

Or sent someone wearing her fucking perfume.

Or worse.

Nara’s voice cut down the corridor, tight but controlled... the voice she used when shit was bad and she refused to make it worse by sounding scared. “Ronan.” A beat. “You need to come to the medical room. Both of you.”

Both of you.

I followed Ronan down the hall, stomach in knots.

Nara stood outside the medical room door, hands folded tight, face doing that open, exhausted grief thing where she’d stopped trying to hide it.

“Mira,” Ronan said, voice rough. “Is it Mira.”

“She’s alive,” Nara answered fast. “Stable. But...” She pressed her lips together. “Someone was in her room. She didn’t see who. Woke up and they were just… there. Then she was on the floor. When we found her...” Her voice dropped. “The symptoms accelerated. Whatever they did, it’s like they fed the curse. Like they knew exactly how to make it worse.”

The silence in that corridor was massive. Suffocating.

Ronan stood there completely still.

I watched something break across his face...grief, fury, and the raw devastation of a man who’d been fighting the same losing battle for five years and had just watched the war get bigger.

Thirteen wolves.

Mira...early stage, he’d said this morning. Maybe months.

Not anymore.

I looked at the medical room door.

My wolf slammed against my ribs so hard it felt physical.

I know, I told her.

And this time when she pushed forward I didn’t pull her back.

I looked at Ronan.

His eyes were fixed on that door, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumped, the weight of five years sitting on his shoulders like something you could actually see.

“Ronan,” I said.

He looked at me.

“Tell me what I need to do,” I said, voice steady even though my hands weren’t. “To help Mira. Tonight. Right now.” I held his gaze. “Not the big curse shit. Not the long game. Just her. Just tonight.” A pause. “Tell me what to do.”

He stared at me.

Something huge shifted across his face—everything open, unhidden, too many emotions to name.

“You don’t have to...”

“I know I don’t have to.” I kept my voice even. “Tell me anyway.”

The corridor was dead quiet.

Nara watched me with those sharp healer eyes. Whatever she saw in my face made her reach out and squeeze my arm once...brief, certain, like a quiet yes.

Ronan looked at me for one long, heavy second.

Then he opened the medical room door.

And I walked through it.

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