Darkness pressed close. Sleep stayed far away. Hours dragged by without rest.
She could handle the soreness in her ribs now, each breath coming easier than before. Not wincing at her wrists helped too, since the bandages stayed fresh and the sting turned gentle. Even the chill didn't bite, thanks to flames crackling where Rhett left them after stoking the woodpile. The thick pelts draped over her felt close, almost alive, holding warmth like they remembered her shape.
It was the scent.
Pine stuck to the cold morning air. The canvas walls held traces of him, just like the pelts tangled at her feet. Woodsmoke curled inside each breath she took. Warm dirt clung under her nails, part of the space he'd shaped. A low hum ran beneath it all, something older than words. Her wolf knew that sound before her mind did. It pulsed behind her ribs, steady as if it never left.
Stretched out flat, Sage watched the slanted fabric overhead. The tarp above held shadows that moved when the wind pushed. Her breath slowed while light bled through tiny gaps. Stillness settled like dust after a long walk. Nothing shifted except time passing beneath the edge of the flap.
Now her wolf sat alert within, wide-eyed yet quieter than hours before. Not wild anymore, the first storm of finding her mate had eased into a steady hum. Always tugging. Like a needle locked on north, it would not turn away.
Toward him.
Always toward him.
Sage hated it.
Even so, it wasn't about Rhett. He'd shown up calm every time. Way past polite - gentle in a place where people kept softness locked away. Carried her weight when she couldn't walk. Shared food without hesitation. Fixed what was broken, not just skin but something deeper. Boots were his, yet they ended up on her feet. All of it given freely. No strings hooked into her pain. Not once did he mention the pull between them, though it flickered behind his eyes like wind behind glass.
That place felt wrong - memories of last time crawled under her skin. The air reminded her too much of what happened back then.
She didn't need a mate bond. Trust mattered more. A sense of belonging settled in. She allowed herself to think - maybe this is where I fit. Where what I bring means something.
What once held her together was Crimson Howl. For six years, she trusted it as home - fought beside them, bled with them, emptied herself into the bond. Yet a single spark - a Luna's envy, an Alpha twisted by power - was enough to burn it all down.
What seemed solid pulled you under. A grip that held too tight always broke first.
Home felt like a chain. Quiet moments pulled tighter each day.
A bond with a partner - something automatic, wired into your blood by instincts older than thought - could wreck everything. Since choice had nothing to do with it.
The animal inside picked without asking. That creature ignored reason, ignored safety, ignored how badly things went when you let someone close and wound up locked down.
That ain't their way, murmured his inner wolf.
"You don't know that."
Smell tells me everything. Touch confirms it too. Safety wraps around him now.
"That's what I thought about Crimson Howl."
She stopped listening through her wolf. It wasn't acceptance. Just recognition - Sage wouldn't bend at this moment. Resistance would only waste breath.
Darkness came when Sage shut her eyelids.
She didn't sleep.
Around two in the morning - that was her estimate, watching how the moon sat between the slats of the shelter - movement came from Rhett's spot.
Quiet steps carried him forward. For someone that large, it seemed almost unnatural. Yet Sage heard each detail - her sharpened senses catching what others would miss. Weight shifting on packed snow. Frost breaking beneath leather soles. Even the rhythm of air moving in and out of his lungs.
Down by the trees, he moved toward the water. A sound reached her - hands shaping into a bowl, liquid spilling in. After that, nothing stirred.
A noise came. Not one she had waited for.
A phone.
A shrill beep cuts through the air - tiny, distant. Quiet it may be, yet clear enough to catch. Not loud, just sharp, slipping under the noise. Instantly known, even when barely there.
Sage's eyes opened.
Midnight light glowed on his face. That device showed up only after dark. She pretended to breathe slow, eyes shut tight. It wasn't the one she knew about. Another world lived inside that screen.
She listened. A hush fell between each light press against the glass. After a breath, another round began. Not long after, the device stilled - its small mechanical sigh marking the end.
Back came Rhett's steps, crunching through the brush. Down he sat again beyond the slant of canvas shelter. The air moved slow from his chest now. Quiet filled the space between trees.
Suddenly quiet, Sage stayed still in the shadows, pulse racing.
Midnight brought light to the screen. Contact existed beyond what met the eye. Messages moved back and forth, unseen. The device linked him to another place, another person. Silence didn't mean solitude. Night after night, words traveled without sound.
What person stood across from him in that moment?
What made him keep it secret?
A shiver ran through Sage, deep in the bones. Whatever hummed between them failed to silence the gut-deep sense that things were off.
Something in her gut said he was okay, yet that feeling slipped a little. Not much. But enough to notice.
That night, sleep never came again for Sage. The hours stretched without pause. Darkness stayed sharp at the edges. Quiet filled each minute like stone. Morning felt far away. Stillness held on tight.
Out of the pale morning light, with trees stiff under ice and everything hushed, her choice took shape. Dawn broke dull and chill, yet motion settled deep within her bones. Frost clung to bark like memory, while stillness pressed between breaths, shaping what she would do. Cold crept through roots and sky alike, marking the moment change began. The world sat frozen, quiet, waiting - then moved because she did.
Only when Rhett stepped into the trees did she move. His smell had already begun to thin out toward the ridge. Five full counts passed before she took a breath.
Then she searched the camp.
One step at a time, she moved through the routine. Careful, never skipping a detail. Training stuck with her - life under Crimson Howl meant spotting clues others missed. Into the rucksack her fingers went. Then the medical pouch snapped open. A coat dangled nearby; its pockets got turned inside out. Behind it, the bark split wide near the flames, hiding nothing now. Even the logs were lifted, one by one, just in case.
A small phone showed up inside a plastic bag, tucked into soil just under the roots where the shelter leaned against the trunk.
A burner phone. Not expensive. Paid for up front, no name attached. Exactly the sort picked up at a convenience store using bills, then tossed once finished.
The device lay silent. Power came back when Sage pressed the button.
Nothing locked. Could mean carelessness - or maybe he meant it that way. Perhaps speed mattered more than safety.
She opened the messages.
A single message showed up. Nobody said who they were. Only digits appeared.
A silence hung between each line. Sharp edges of words stood alone. Last night's note arrived like a cold draft under the door
The glow of the monitor lit up Sage's face. Silence hung thick between blinks. Not a word came out. Just breathing. The cursor blinked back.
Again, she went through the words. The page turned once more under her eyes.
And again. She's here.
She came up in their conversation.
That moment wasn't chance. Rhett had searched until he saw her. A message came first - from someone called K. Maybe a signal sent, maybe one received. Whoever waited would act only when sure she was there.
Where did she go? How did it happen? Was it because of her?
A tremor ran through Sage's fingers. Not because of the chill. It came instead from a sharp anger, one that flares only when someone breaks trust - especially the fragile kind you barely admitted to yourself.
Again.
Fooling her once more. That moment settled like dust on old books. Just another time it happened.
A sound rose within her, deep as bone, sharp as frost. Not a refusal - no - but pain given voice. Something in her blood insisted Rhett remained untouched, claimed, explainable. Still, her thoughts moved like old wounds cracking open. Patterns emerged where trust once lived.
A creature waits where the land gives up. This one found her by what seemed like chance. Healing came through its efforts, though loyalty lay elsewhere - notes sent to someone unseen. The truth hid behind each careful gesture.
Identity confirmed?
She caught a glance - curiosity sparking. A voice asked her name. Proof mattered now.
Yet proof about which truth? Once known as Sage Blackwood, cast out fighter from the Crimson Howl Pack. Not remarkable. Not someone anyone would risk a scout crossing into the Deadlands just to track down.
Maybe her take on it missed the mark.
If she had been unaware of her own nature.
Off went the phone, silenced by Sage. Back into its spot it slipped - depth matched, tilt copied, earth dragged smooth across the surface. Gone without a mark.
Back at the flames, she lowered herself to the ground.
Pain shot through her sides. A dull pulse ran along her arms. The connection kept screaming Rhett stood unharmed, yet everything she sensed fought it. Her wolf wouldn't stop clawing at the truth from both directions.
Fireside silence stretched long before Sage moved a muscle. Thoughts curled like smoke through their mind.
One choice stood before her, then another appeared, followed by a third. Each path showed itself at its own time.
Running now seemed possible. While Rhett hunted, that gap offered a chance. Supplies would be limited - only what she could haul away. Vanishing farther into the Deadlands felt like an opening, not just escape. The wolf inside had returned. Shifting might work; testing it hadn't happened yet. Human shape still held more speed, greater strength than before. Three days changed her body without warning.
Nowhere to go. Not a single friend nearby. Nothing useful in her pockets. The hunt by Crimson Howl hadn't slowed. Since K had plans, moving without sight might not beat something planned. Behind every shadow, pressure built.
Start by facing Rhett. The messages - lay them out where he can see. Ask straight up what they mean. Let silence sit if needed. Watch how he responds before saying more. Truth might come slow. Be ready for that.
Still shaky on her feet, she knew a clash now would expose her too soon. Should Rhett turn aggressive, his suspicion might rise before she could act. Her edge depended on timing - rushing it would burn that chance. Strength hadn't returned fully; pushing forward felt more like gamble than plan. Victory slipped further when fists flew first.
Three - stay put. Act like she never caught on. Keep eyes open, ears sharp. Take notes without drawing attention. Allow Rhett to believe he's in control while she maps the unknowns: identity of "K," their aims, if danger looms or it's just smoke.
Warrior - that came later. First, there was the silence of watching, the patience of waiting. Scouts understood stillness better than strikes. Doing nothing? That could cut deeper than any blade ever did.
Option three was her pick.
Back from chasing birds - just a single pheasant this time, better than another string of rabbits - Rhett caught Sage's grin before he said a word.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning. How are the ribs?"
"Better. I think I can shift soon."
"Don't rush it. Your wolf needs time to stabilize."
"You're probably right."
Out of his hands, the bird passed to hers. A touch of fingertips. Like a spark catching dry grass, the bond fired along her nerves - flames, brightness, that cruel sweet ache shouting move nearer, stay near, do not release.
Sage didn't flinch.
She smiled.
"I'll cook today," she said. "You've done enough."
Her gaze met his. Behind his stare, a flicker - no doubt, just knowing. As if some animal had caught a new scent on the air.
Okay, he replied. Appreciate it.
A quiet rhythm moved through her fingers as Sage pulled feathers from the bird. Over the flames, she set a sharpened stick ready for roasting. Not once did her grip waver. Even breath followed even pulse.
A shadow moved behind her eyes. It circled, restless, just beneath the surface.
Quiet now, said the wolf under its breath.
Now I pay attention, Sage told himself. Care comes first these days.