Page 25 of Unveiled

For a moment Garrett looked like he might argue. Then something in the mountain’s silence pressed down on him, and he gave a sharp nod, his jaw clenched. “Fine.”

Adrian exhaled slowly. Good enough.

He stripped first, because he was done waiting for permission from anyone, himself included. Coat off, jumper over his head, boots kicked aside. The cold hit his skin like a shock, but it was a clean shock, invigorating rather than cruel.

Around him, the others followed suit. Clothes piled on rocks, laughter rough and brief. Rowland complained loudly about the temperature while moving with the speed of a man who couldn’t wait to be furred. Laurence muttered something about hypothermia and then, hypocrite that he was, stripped just as quickly.

Piper’s movements were unhurried, dignified. Jasmine rolled her shoulders as if she were preparing for a fight. Max was all efficiency, his eyes never leaving the horizon for long. Garrett tore off his shirt as though it had insulted him.

Adrian stood barefoot on cold stone and let the wolf rise. His shift was a rush of heat under his skin, a surge that started in his spine and rolled outward. Bones reshaped with a pressure that was almost painful. Almost.

Muscles tightened, rearranged, strengthened. His senses sharpened until the world snapped into focus like a blade drawn from a sheath.

Smell first. Max’s clean, iron scent. Piper’s lavender and smoke. Rowland’s spice and old wood. Garrett’s anger, sharp and acidic. Jasmine’s earth and stone. Laurence’s antiseptic and nerves. And the mountain itself, a cold rock filled with lichen, and the faint sweetness of heather crushed underfoot.

Adrian shook once, fur rippling along his body. He was a wolf. Not as massive as Connor’s would be—Adrian knew that instinctively—but sleek, powerful, built for speed and endurance. Adrian’s coat was dark grey with lighter streaks along his shoulders, like moonlight caught in motion.

Max’s wolf came to his right, big and solid, a dark entity. Piper’s was smaller but fierce, her eyes bright with intelligence. Rowland’s was broad and shaggy, already bouncing on his paws like a pup despite his age. Jasmine’s was lean and sharp, her ears pricked, ready to sprint.

Marilee was small, dark brown, and deadly, her petite frame belying the violence that Adrian suspected lay deep beneath her fur.

Garrett’s wolf was enormous. Thick-necked and bristling with dominance. He paced in a tight circle, testing the air, testing the pack. Laurence’s wolf looked perpetually unimpressed.

Adrian’s chest filled with something that wasn’t merely air. Belonging. He gave a low chuff, command and invitation both. They moved.

Not down the mountain. There was no need. The summit was theirs, a wide playground under the moon. They ran in looping arcs, wolves darting and weaving, bodies bumping in play that was half challenge, half joy.

Rowland barrelled into Max and bounced off like a thrown stone, yelping in delighted outrage. Max snapped playfully at his flank, herding him back toward the centre. Marilee kept mostly to herself but allowed a small amount of play between her and the others. Jasmine chased Garrett, nipping at his heels, daring him to react.

Garrett spun, teeth flashing, and for a heartbeat the air tightened with dominance, challenge, and old instincts.

Adrian stepped between them. Not with words, but with presence. He stood still, head high, tail steady, and let the pack feel him. Let them feel the fact that he was King, whether or not Garrett liked it.

Garrett froze, his hackles lifting. Adrian held his gaze. Then Garrett looked away first with a frustrated shake of his head and bounded off toward the far edge of the summit, as if he could outrun his own submission.

Adrian exhaled, the tension easing. Max brushed his shoulder as he passed, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done.

They ran again, faster now, the pack loosening into pure movement. Adrian leapt from rock to rock, claws scraping, heart hammering with exhilaration. The wind tore through his fur, cold and clean, and he felt, truly felt, alive.

At the summit’s highest point, Adrian stopped. The moon was directly above, bright enough to paint the stones silver. He howled. The sound ripped out of him, raw and beautiful, echoing off the mountain’s bones. It wasn’t a cry of loneliness. It was a declaration.

I am here. I am not afraid. I am not alone.

One by one, the others joined in. Max’s howl was deep and steady. Piper’s was fierce. Rowland’s wobbled at the end, as if he were emotional and tried to pretend he wasn’t. Jasmine’s was sharp and wild. Even Laurence howled, though his sounded as though it was under protest. Garrett’s howl came last, loud, furious, and threaded with something that might’ve been defiance.

The chorus rolled out across the Highlands, a sound older than castles and crowns. When it faded, the silence that followed felt sacred.

They played again, softer now. Wolves sprawled in the frost, rolling on their backs, snapping at each other’s muzzles. Rowland tried to start a wrestling match with Piper and was pinned for his arrogance. Jasmine trotted along the edge of the summit, ever watchful, her archaeologist instincts translating neatly into wolf vigilance.

Adrian lay on the cold stone and stared up at the moon. For a moment, everything was simple. Then the weight returned, creeping back in around the edges as the fort, the village, the Council of Veils, and the binding he hadn’t fully explained to anyone because he didn’t yet understand it himself. All of it weighed heavy.

Connor. Even here, even in wolf form, the thought of him tugged at Adrian like a thread. His ears flicked back, uneasy.

Max’s wolf nudged him, a question. Adrian rose, shaking off frost. He gave a short bark. Time.

The pack moved, instinctively gathering. They padded back down the mountain in a controlled lope, careful on the steep path, paws sure on stone.

The descent was quieter, the earlier wildness banked into a steady, satisfied calm.