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We set off in the direction of the enigmatic scent.
Keep alert. We don’t know what this is, Silas cautioned.
My wolf gave a brief jerk of his head. Do you think it’s a rogue? I doubt they’re smart enough to change their scent, but it’s possible if they struck a deal with witches.
Silas’s wolf growled. Fucking witches.
The possibility of a trap made me uneasy.
Silas and I moved in synchrony, silent except for the soft shuffle of our paws against the forest floor. Anticipation mingled with apprehension as we ventured closer to the source.
As we entered a clearing bathed in silver moonlight, a distinct figure separated itself from the landscape.
Do you see that? I asked.
At the base of a tree, buried beneath a mound of snow, lay a lone Omega—vulnerable and unmoving. If it weren’t for her scent, I would have thought her dead.
What was she doing out there? Where had she come from?
The Omega’s intoxicating scent enveloped us. She was defenseless, and it tugged at my wolf’s instincts, stirring up our protective nature. The need to go to her and cradle her in the safety of my arms was overwhelming, but caution prevailed. An unfamiliar Omega in the woods near our territory was puzzling, and the situation was fraught with uncertainty—even if my wolf felt the urge to shield her.
Silas and I exchanged a glance, wordlessly acknowledging the potential peril of this encounter.
The closer we came, the more her scent gripped me with an urgency that thinned the veil between man and beast. Something primal thrummed through my veins. She was all I could see.
Our bond flared and pulsed, writhing in an unfamiliar dance.
My wolf inhaled, taking deep gulps of air as electricity poured through our veins. My world fractured and reassembled in a matter of moments.
There was only this tiny, broken creature.
And I knew she was mine.
I shifted and ran toward the curled body in the snow, dropping to my knees and brushing flakes from her frozen form. I heard bones snapping and reshaping behind me as Silas shifted, and a heartbeat later, I felt his heat at my back.
Our bond flared with recognition, and the strands of the other members of our unit—Theron and Gentry—pulsed with surprise, confusion, and worry.
“She’s alive,” Silas said, his voice rough with emotion.
I knew he was avoiding the obvious dilemma and trying to accept what this discovery meant for our unit and Hidden Creek.
“Barely,” I replied, ignoring the way the thought of the Omega’s injuries made my wolf see red.
Silas helped dust the ice from her fur. “What the fuck is she doing out here? Shit, she’s frozen.” He ran his hands along her limbs to warm them. “She was probably out here all night.”
That didn’t bode well for her.
I scanned her golden fur, noticing her visible ribs and underdeveloped muscles. My wolf growled. “She’s thin. Too thin.”
“A loner?”
“Possibly. Though if she were, she would have known the area better—would have had some idea of where to find shelter in this storm.” I inhaled, checking for the acidic edge that often accompanied a rogue’s scent. “She’s not a rogue either.”
Silas nodded in agreement. “She doesn’t seem to have any wounds, so she wasn’t attacked.”
A growl poured from his throat. One question echoed down the bond: if she wasn’t a rogue or a loner, and she wasn’t one of the Council’s Omegas, where had she come from?
From the looks of her, it wasn’t anywhere good. She was becoming more of a mystery by the second.
