Light gave way to shadow.
Shadow gave way to sound.
Willa stumbled as her boots struck solid ground again—real ground. Forest soil, not scorched ash. Pine needles and damp earth instead of blood-soaked curses.
They were back.
The clearing spun around her as Cade steadied her with a hand at her back, his other hand clenched tight, still half-shifted. He was breathing hard, eyes flickering—still caught between wolf and man. But present. Grounded. Hers.
Roman was the first to reach them, chanting softly under his breath as he poured salt around the scorched tree stump that once held the gateway.
"Welcome back," he said grimly. "Was starting to wonder if we'd have to throw Grace in after you."
"I'd have gone," Grace said, stepping forward. She looked Willa over with a mixture of relief and alarm. "Are you okay?"
"Bruised, bloody, and full of questions," Willa muttered. "But yeah. I'm standing."
Sadie, pale and leaning against a tree, raised a hand weakly. "Look who dragged her wolf back through hell."
Cade gave a half-grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Willa wasn't the only one who noticed.
Roman's gaze sharpened. "What did they say to you?"
Cade didn't answer at first. He stood staring at his hand—the claws slowly retracting. His voice was quiet when it finally came.
"They didn't want to kill me. They wanted to crown me. Said I was born from something buried in this town. Something old."
Roman muttered a curse under his breath. "If that's true…"
"It is," Willa said. "We saw them. Fought them. And Cade—he's not like them. Not even close."
"But he is tied to them," Grace said gently. "That connection doesn't just disappear."
"No," Cade said, his voice rough. "But I can choose what I do with it."
They stood in a tense silence, the wind rustling through the trees like an omen.
Then—a howl split the air.
Not Cade.
Not anything they knew.
A second followed. Then a third. Distant. Echoing from the hills beyond Black Hollow.
Roman turned, face pale. "They're not gone. That wasn't the Deep Pack's full strength. That was a warning."
Willa stepped up beside Cade. "Then we get ready. We find out who else is in this, who's pulling the strings."
Grace drew a line in the dirt with her boot. "We protect the town. Our town."
Sadie coughed, her voice dry. "No pressure or anything… but maybe someone should call the damn council?"
Cade's expression darkened. "They already know."
Willa looked at him sharply. "How?"
"Because they sent me here," he said. "Not just to run. But to draw the Deep Pack out."
Roman's eyes widened. "You're saying this whole thing was a setup?"
Cade nodded slowly. "And we played our part perfectly."
Willa clenched her jaw, heart thudding.
"We're not done."
Cade looked at her.
"No," he said. "We're just getting started."
Night had swallowed Black Hollow by the time they returned to Cade's cabin.
Roman, Grace, and Sadie stayed back at the Hollow Inn to regroup and treat injuries, leaving Willa and Cade to their own bruises and unraveling thoughts. The woods around the cabin were quiet, too quiet, like even the animals knew the earth had shifted somehow.
Cade opened the door and stepped aside, waiting for her to go in first.
"You limping out of chivalry or pain?" she asked dryly as she passed.
"Little of both," he muttered, following behind and closing the door.
The warmth of the cabin wrapped around them, fire still glowing low in the hearth, soft light flickering off the wooden walls. The moment the door clicked shut, the silence between them thickened.
Neither moved to sit.
Neither dared say what was simmering between them.
Willa turned to him. "You okay?"
Cade met her eyes. "You saved my life."
"I had to," she said. "You owed me a drink."
His smile was slow, dark. "That's what this was about?"
"I'm very serious about my tabs."
He stepped closer.
Her pulse kicked.
"I think I owe you more than a drink, Lang."
She didn't step back. "I don't collect debts. I just don't like being lied to."
"I didn't lie," he said, stopping just in front of her. "I just didn't tell you the part of me I hate."
"You think that makes you different?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. "You think I don't carry that same weight?"
His hand reached out, curling around her waist, slow and sure. His thumb brushed the bare skin just above her hip where her shirt had ridden up.
"Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about you," he said.
Willa's breath caught. Her walls slammed up—and cracked in the same breath.
"Don't," she warned. "Don't try to soften me with words."
Cade leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck.
"I'm not trying to soften you," he whispered. "I like the way you bite."
His lips brushed her jaw—not a kiss, a promise. Her fingers fisted in his shirt before she could think better of it.
She was tired. Raw. Her body ached in more ways than one, and this man—this damn man—was the only steady thing in the storm.
"I should be planning our next move," she murmured.
Cade's hands found her hips. "You can plan it in the morning."
She opened her mouth to argue—and then he kissed her.
Hard.
Hungry.
Like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.
Willa groaned into his mouth, grabbing his shoulders as her back hit the wall. His body pressed against hers, all muscle and heat and need. Her legs wrapped around his hips before she could think, and she swore she felt him smirk into the kiss.
"Still mad at me?" he rasped.
"Infuriated," she gasped, dragging her nails down his back.
"Good," he growled. "I like a challenge."
His mouth moved down her neck, teeth grazing just enough to make her toes curl. Her body arched into his, aching for more, for everything.
This wasn't sweet.
This wasn't safe.
But it was real.
And Willa, for once, didn't want to fight it.
Not tonight.
Willa didn't remember who moved first—but suddenly, Cade had her pressed against the wall, his body caging hers like a man starved.
Her breath hitched.
He cupped her jaw with one hand, the other gripping her hip with a possessive heat that sent shivers racing up her spine.
His kiss had edge—biting, urgent. He tasted like fire and fury and something else entirely—something that made her head spin and her knees tremble. She clung to his shirt, dragging him closer, until every inch of him molded against her curves like a puzzle piece that had always belonged.
"Still think I'm the rabbit?" he growled against her lips, voice wrecked and deep.
"No," she gasped, arching into him. "You're the damn fire, Cade Mercer."
He groaned, dragging his mouth down her throat. His teeth scraped the skin just below her ear—softly, then with a nip that made her gasp. Her head dropped back with a thud against the wooden wall, exposing her neck, surrendering inch by inch even as her hands dragged through his hair.
His hands slid under her shirt, calloused palms spreading fire across her ribs and lower. Her tank top went up, then over her head and tossed somewhere she didn't care about. His hands paused as his eyes scanned her, dark and hot and reverent.
"You're perfect," he murmured, voice gravel and heat.
"Shut up and touch me."
That grin—cocky, wolfish—flashed as he scooped her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist with a growl of her own, nails biting into his shoulders as he carried her toward the bed, their mouths never parting for more than a heartbeat.
He laid her down like she was something sacred—and then ruined her like a man claiming what he'd already bled for.
Shirt gone. Pants off. Her skin met his, heat to heat, no hesitation.
Every brush of skin against skin sent sparks down her spine. His mouth traveled lower—between her breasts, her ribs, her hips—leaving trails of fire in his wake. He knew what he was doing. He took his time, as if memorizing every reaction, every gasp, every shiver that betrayed how badly she wanted him.
Willa wasn't quiet.
She wasn't tame.
She let go, wrapped her thighs around his waist and met every slow, powerful thrust with a wildness he hadn't expected but clearly adored.
They moved together, tangled and desperate, like they could erase the danger with friction and heat.
Like this was the only moment they had left.
"Willa," he groaned, kissing her again, messier this time.
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she whispered against his lips, "Don't stop."
And he didn't.
Not until her body shattered beneath his, a moan torn from her throat that sounded like both rage and release.
He followed with a growl, a low, guttural sound that felt like a promise branded into her skin.
They collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, breathless and undone, sweat cooling on their bodies in the flickering firelight.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Cade's arm wrapped under her waist, pulling her close without a word.
Willa rested her head on his shoulder, letting herself breathe. Just breathe.
And for once, it didn't feel like surrender.
It felt like coming home.