The first sign of trouble came on the wind.
Lena felt it before anyone spoke of it, a wrongness that curled low in her chest as she crossed the lower grounds just after dusk. Training had ended early that day. The Alpha had dismissed her with a nod and a quiet, "Rest."
But rest would not come.
The forest was too still.
Wolves noticed silence the way others noticed screams.
She slowed near the tree line, her steps careful, senses stretching outward the way the Alpha had taught her—not reaching, not forcing. Just listening.
Something old stirred beneath the earth.
Behind her, boots crunched against gravel.
"You feel it too."
Lena turned.
The Alpha stood a short distance away, his gaze fixed on the darkening forest. He hadn't announced himself. He never did.
"Yes," Lena said. "I thought it was just me."
"It isn't," he replied.
They stood side by side, not touching, both facing the trees. The wind shifted again, carrying a scent Lena didn't recognize—sharp, metallic, edged with something bitter.
The Alpha's jaw tightened.
"That scent," he said. "You've never encountered it before?"
She shook her head. "No."
"I hoped that would remain true."
The words sent a chill through her.
"What is it?" she asked.
The Alpha did not answer immediately. His attention moved outward now, beyond the forest, beyond the pack lands themselves.
"Your father," he said at last, "did not simply leave."
Lena's breath stilled.
"He disappeared," the Alpha continued. "And men who vanish with power rarely do so quietly."
She looked at him. "You said he followed a bond."
"He did," the Alpha said. "But bonds do not erase ambition."
The wind carried the scent again—stronger now.
"There are those who believed your father owed them loyalty," the Alpha went on. "Others who believed his bloodline should have been theirs to command."
Lena's fingers curled instinctively. "And now they know about me."
"Yes."
The word landed with finality.
"How?" she asked.
The Alpha glanced toward the stronghold. "Secrecy fails when fear loosens its grip. Your mother buried you too deeply. That kind of absence draws attention once uncovered."
Lena swallowed. "So what do they want?"
The Alpha finally turned to face her fully.
"They will want to see if you are real," he said. "And if you are… they will decide whether to claim you, use you, or remove you."
The forest seemed to lean closer.
Lena forced herself to breathe steadily. "And the pack?"
"The pack will be tested," he replied. "By how well they protect what they did not know they had."
She lifted her chin. "And you?"
His gaze did not waver. "I will not allow another child of that bloodline to be hidden or hunted."
Something in his voice settled deep in her bones—not promise, not comfort.
Commitment.
A horn sounded from the watchtower.
Once.
Then twice.
The Alpha's head snapped toward the sound.
"They've crossed the outer markers," he said.
Lena's heart began to race—not with panic, but with something sharper.
Readiness.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
The Alpha studied her for a long moment. Then—
"Stay visible," he said. "Whatever happens next, you do not disappear."
The horn sounded again, longer this time.
Beyond the trees, a presence pressed against the land—ancient, calculating, familiar to the blood in Lena's veins.
Her father's past had found her.
And this time, it was not leaving her behind.