Chapter 4 Chapter 4: Threshold

The compound materializes from the forest like something pulled from a fever dream—wooden structures that seem to grow from the earth itself, smoke curling from stone chimneys, solar panels glinting in moonlight. My hand is still clasped in Hawk's, his skin impossibly warm against mine.

But it's the scent that hits me first.

Musk and pine and something copper-sharp beneath—wild and wrong and right all at once. My hindbrain screams predator even as the mate bond purrs recognition. The rational part of me, the ranger part, catalogs every detail: defensive positioning, multiple exits, high ground advantages. The primal part just wants to run.

"Stop here," Hawk says quietly.

We're fifty yards from the nearest building. In the darkness, I can see movement—shapes that are too fluid to be human, too large to be normal wolves. Their eyes catch the moonlight, reflecting gold and silver, and I'm suddenly, viscerally aware that I'm prey in a den of apex predators.

"They need to scent you first," Hawk explains. "To know you're under my protection."

"And if they decide I'm not welcome?"

His jaw tightens. "They don't get a vote."

But even I can hear the uncertainty beneath his confidence.

The wolves emerge slowly. Six of them, ranging from silver-gray to russet brown. They circle us with predatory grace, and every instinct I have screams run. My heart hammers so loud I'm certain they can hear it. Hawk's hand anchors me, but his grip has tightened—he's as tense as I am.

A white wolf, massive and ancient-looking, approaches last. Her eyes are winter frost, assessing and cold. When she's close enough that I can feel her breath—hot and carrying the scent of raw meat—she does something unexpected. She sits, blocking our path forward.

"Sage," Hawk says, and there's warning in his voice. "Move."

The white wolf's lips pull back, revealing teeth designed for rending flesh. Not a snarl—a statement. I fight the urge to bare my throat in submission right here, right now.

Then she transforms.

I've seen Hawk shift, but watching it happen to someone else is different. The air shimmers like heat waves off summer asphalt. Bones crack and reform with sounds that make my stomach turn—wet pops and grinding that shouldn't be possible. White fur recedes into pale skin, and suddenly, a woman stands before us. Sixty-something, silver hair falling past her shoulders, wearing clothes that appeared from nowhere. She's naked for a heartbeat before the clothes manifest, and I glimpse scars crisscrossing her torso—a warrior's body.

"You brought a human to our home." Her voice could cut glass. "Have you lost your mind?"

"This is Luna Pierce. My fated mate."

The words land like a bomb. Every wolf present goes still—that supernatural stillness that's more unnerving than movement. The air itself seems to hold its breath.

Sage laughs. It's not a pleasant sound. "Impossible. Humans cannot be fated mates. The bond doesn't cross species."

"And yet here we stand." Hawk moves slightly in front of me, and I feel his wolf rising beneath his skin—a tremor of power that makes the air shimmer. "You know I wouldn't lie about this."

"I know you're thinking with your—" Sage cuts herself off, her frost-colored eyes drilling into me. "What's your name, human?"

"Luna Pierce." I force my voice steady, stepping around Hawk because hiding behind him feels like weakness. My legs are shaking, but I lock my knees. "I'm a wildlife ranger. I—"

"I know what you are. I can smell the pine sap and gun oil on you. I can smell your fear." She moves closer, circling me like I'm prey. Each step is deliberate, predatory. "What I want to know is what you want. Why are you really here?"

"To help stop the attacks. Hawk told me about Viktor—"

"Hawk told you?" Sage's voice rises, and several wolves behind her growl in response—a chorus of threat. "You've known her for what, a week? And you've already exposed pack secrets? Brought her to our home? Risked everything we've built for hundreds of years?"

"She was investigating the attacks anyway," Hawk says, and I can feel his frustration bleeding through that invisible thread connecting us. "She would have found us eventually. This way, we have an ally instead of an enemy."

"Or we have a spy." Sage stops in front of me, so close I can see gold flecks in her icy eyes, can smell the mint on her breath. "How do we know you won't run straight to your ranger friends? Bring hunters here? Get us all killed?"

My mouth is dry, but I meet her gaze. "Because I don't want anyone killed. Human or werewolf. Viktor's framing your pack, which means innocent people on both sides are going to die if we don't stop him."

"We," Sage repeats mockingly. "You've been part of his world for five minutes and you're already saying 'we.'"

The mate bond pulls tight in my chest, almost painful. Through it, I feel Hawk's protectiveness, his frustration, his own doubts about bringing me here. The vulnerability of that feeling—knowing he's questioning himself—makes something in me straighten.

"Sage." A new voice, male, coming from one of the russet wolves. He transforms mid-stride—a man in his thirties, muscular, with a scar running down his left arm and kind eyes that seem at odds with his fighter's build. "The alpha has made his choice. We honor it."

"Honor it?" Sage whirls on him. "Derek, your sister was killed by human hunters five years ago. You of all people should understand—"

"I understand that Viktor Steele is the real enemy." Derek looks at me with guarded curiosity. "If Hawk says she can help, I trust him."

"Your trust is noted," Sage says coldly. "But I am beta of this pack, and I have a responsibility to protect everyone here. Especially from well-meaning mistakes that could destroy us."

She turns back to Hawk. "You want to keep her? Fine. But she stays in the guest cabin. Alone. Under guard. And if she tries to leave, if she makes one suspicious move, I will end this myself. Alpha or not."

"Sage—"

"Those are my terms, Alpha." The title sounds like a challenge. "Or we take this to the pack council. See what the others think about a human living among us."

The tension stretches like a rubber band about to snap. I can feel Hawk's wolf pressing against his skin, wanting to dominate and display, to force submission. But that would fracture the pack. Finally, he nods.

"Fine. Guest cabin. But the guard is for her protection, not imprisonment."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Sage transforms back into her wolf form and stalks away, the other wolves following. Only Derek remains.

"I'm sorry about that," he says to me, his voice genuinely apologetic. "Sage is... protective. She's seen a lot of packs destroyed by careless decisions. By humans with good intentions who didn't understand what they were risking."

"I'm not here to destroy anything," I say quietly, but my voice wavers at the end. The adrenaline is crashing now, leaving me shaky.

"I believe you." He extends his hand. "I'm Derek Stoneheart. And before you ask—yes, werewolves often choose dramatic surnames. It's a whole thing."

Despite everything, I smile as I shake his hand. "Luna Pierce. And my last name is boring by comparison."

"Pierce isn't boring. It's a weapon name. Sage will respect that, even if she won't admit it." He grins, and it transforms his serious face into something boyish and warm. "Come on. I'll show you to your cabin. Fair warning—it's small, and the plumbing is questionable. But it has a lock, which Sage insisted on. I think she's more worried about pack members sneaking in to interrogate you than you sneaking out."

As we walk toward a small cabin set apart from the others, I glance back at Hawk. He's standing where I left him, watching me with an expression I can't quite read—hunger and fear and desperate hope all mixed.

"He's terrified," Derek says quietly, following my gaze. "I've known Hawk for decades. Never seen him scared of anything. But you? You terrify him."

"Why?"

"Because he finally has something to lose."