I knew she was close the moment my wolf went still.
Not tense.
Not angry.
Listening.
We had followed the trail for hours faint, deliberately broken, masked beneath smoke and movement. Amateur scouts would have missed it. I did not.
"She's leading us," my Beta said quietly.
I didn't answer.
Because he was right and because part of me admired it.
The forest thickened as night settled in, the air heavy with the scent of ash and iron. Rogue territory. Unclaimed. Dangerous. My kind of place.
I raised a fist. The scouts froze.
There.
A flicker of movement ahead. A footprint pressed into damp soil, shallow but recent. Too careful to be accidental.
My chest tightened.
Three months. That's how long it had taken me to recognize her silence as strategy instead of fear.
I stepped forward and stopped.
The scent hit me like a memory I had no right to claim.
Her.
Not sweet. Not soft. Sharper now. Steel and smoke woven through what had once been familiar. My wolf surged forward, furious and desperate, slamming against my ribs.
She was alive.
I was here.
"Alpha," my Beta whispered urgently. "Trap."
I saw it a heartbeat too late.
The ground gave way beneath the lead scout. A snare snapped tight, hauling him upside down with a shout. The forest erupted movement everywhere, shadows retreating as quickly as they'd appeared.
A distraction.
Clever.
"After them!" someone yelled.
"No," I growled.
Too late already.
I moved forward alone, ignoring protests, following the fading echo of her presence deeper into the trees. Every step felt like trespass into territory she had claimed without me.
Then I heard it.
A breath.
Soft. Controlled.
Close enough that my next step would have revealed us both.
I stopped.
The silence stretched.
I didn't turn.
If I did, this careful distance this fragile control would shatter.
I spoke instead, my voice low, steady, carrying just enough to be heard.
"I know you're alive."
Nothing.
"I never stopped looking."
Still nothing.
Liar.
The air shifted. Her scent pulled away, dissolving into smoke and night. When I finally turned, the space behind me was empty only a single mark carved into the bark of a nearby tree.
Not a pack symbol.
Not a threat.
A line. Clean. Final.
A boundary.
My wolf howled inside me, rage and regret colliding.
She had been close enough to breathe.
And she had chosen not to be seen.
I clenched my fists.
Next time, she wouldn't have to choose.