The wind carried the scent of pine, rain, and something... wild.
I wiped my hands on my scrubs as I stepped out the clinic's back door. It had been another long day—two surgeries, a porcupine-quill emergency, and a runaway husky that turned out to be a coyote. My back ached, my hands were raw, but it was the throbbing in my chest that wouldn't quit. It had started days ago—low, persistent, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to me.
I stared at the forest just beyond the fence. The sun was bleeding out behind the mountains, smearing the sky with purple and fire. The shadows stretched long and low, curling between trees like waiting hands.
And then I felt her—my wolf—stirring beneath my skin.
It was subtle, like a twitch in my blood. A whisper in my bones. I gritted my teeth and shoved the feeling down hard. I hadn't shifted in nearly ten years, not since... well. Not since everything shattered.
No pack. No territory. No moonlit hunts. I lived small. Quiet. Human.
And yet tonight, something felt off.
I gripped the crescent moon pendant at my throat—amber, carved with my mother's hands. It felt colder than usual.
"Elara?"
I turned at the sound of Dr. Avery's voice. She was standing in the doorway, drying her hands on a towel, her short gray hair frizzing in the damp air.
"You're still here?" she asked, arching a brow. "You need to go home and rest."
I forced a smile. "Just grabbing some air. Five more minutes."
She gave me a look that said she didn't quite believe me, but she nodded. "The forest's pretty, but don't go wandering. Full moon tomorrow. Wildlife gets twitchy."
I didn't say anything. Just nodded as she disappeared back inside.
Then it hit me.
The air changed.
Everything went still—not silent, but aware. Like the trees were listening. My breath caught as a scent drifted in—one I hadn't smelled in years.
Musky. Wild. Commanding.
A wolf. No—an Alpha.
My heart skipped.
No one in Ashridge was like me. That was the point. I had picked this place because it was quiet. Hidden.
I scanned the trees, every muscle tense.
Then came the growl.
Low. Deep. Predatory.
My body moved before my brain caught up—I ran back inside and slammed the door shut, locking it even though I knew it wouldn't stop whatever was out there if it wanted in.
I leaned against the wood, trying to steady my breath. The pendant at my neck burned against my skin. It wasn't possible. It had to be in my head.
Right?
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The apartment above the clinic was warm and familiar—lavender candles, old flannel pajamas, and a mug of cooling chamomile tea. But nothing settled the unease coiling in my stomach.
Something was watching me. Not through the windows. From deeper inside. From the place I locked up long ago—the cellar of my soul where my wolf waited, pacing.
She was awake. Restless. Wanting.
I got out of bed and crept to the window. Rain dotted the glass, and the trees swayed like dancers in slow motion. Moonlight spilled through the clouds, turning the forest silver.
That's when I saw him.
A man stood at the edge of the woods.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Still. Like he was part of the night.
Our eyes met—across the distance, through the darkness—and my breath caught. I felt it like a jolt to my chest. My wolf howled.
Mate.
I stumbled back from the window and yanked the curtains closed.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no."
It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.
But my soul knew.
The next morning dawned gray and wet. I dressed in silence, my body tense, my nerves buzzing.
The scent was back the moment I walked into the clinic. Sharp. Familiar.
Alpha.
I dropped my clipboard.
"Elara?" Dr. Avery looked up from the front desk.
"I've got it," I said quickly, scooping it up. "Just... clumsy."
But I wasn't clumsy. I was being hunted by my own instincts.
Then he stepped inside.
Soaked from the rain, his black jacket dripping, boots muddy. His presence filled the small space like a storm. I froze.
It was him. The man from the woods.
Our eyes locked again, and the air between us sparked like static.
"Kane Thorne," he said. His voice was deep. Rough. Almost familiar.
I stared. "What do you want?"
"You."
I flinched.
"I don't know you," I said, backing up a step.
"You will," he replied. "You're the last of the Moonveil line. The Council's going to come for you. I'm not the only one who felt the awakening."
My throat tightened. Moonveil. I hadn't heard that name in years. It should've stayed buried with the rest of my past.
"You've got the wrong person," I said. "I'm not—"
"You are," he interrupted, voice low and steady. "You've just forgotten."
I stared at him, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. My pendant throbbed against my chest, cold and insistent.
He stepped back, his gaze unreadable.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Kane said. "But I'm not leaving, either. Not until you remember who you are."
Then he turned and walked out, just like that.
Leaving me breathless.
Terrified.
And more alive than I'd felt in ten years.