Chapter 17: The Scent of Fate

“Alpha, there is an intruder.” The mind link cut through Ryker’s thoughts as he reviewed reports in his office. He didn’t look up immediately. “And you are telling me this because…?” he replied lazily through the link. Kylian—his beta—handled intruders. That was protocol. Bloodmoon’s borders were crossed once or twice a month by lost rogues, wandering loners, or foolish scouts testing their defenses. Kylian dealt with them efficiently and only reported details later in the end-of-day summary. For him to interrupt now? That was unusual. “She is an omega, Alpha,” Kylian replied. Ryker paused. An omega? “Intruders don’t usually announce their rank before trespassing,” Ryker said dryly. “Continue.” “I believe she is from Silver Fang,” Kylian added. “Their beta was pursuing her when she crossed our border.” Ryker leaned back slowly in his chair. “She?” he asked, voice sharpening. “Yes, Alpha. She.” That changed things. Female intruders were rare. Omega female intruders? Unheard of. “I’ll be at the dungeon,” Ryker said, pushing himself to his feet. “Alpha,” Kylian interrupted quickly. “She is not in the dungeon.” Ryker stilled mid-step. “She is in the pack hospital.” Silence stretched for half a second. “Why?” Ryker demanded. Kylian’s tone shifted—less formal now, more serious. “She is in bad shape. She collapsed the moment she realized Silver Fang’s beta would not cross our border.” Ryker’s eyes narrowed. Collapsed. An omega female, fleeing her own pack’s beta, collapsing upon crossing into Bloodmoon territory. This was no accidental trespass. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Ryker said. He cut the link and moved immediately. For Kylian to bypass dungeon protocol and take an intruder directly to the hospital— That said everything. Bloodmoon had strict rules. Intruders went to the dungeon. Medical care, if needed, was brought to them there. They were not cruel without cause—but they were not naïve either. Ryker knew what other packs said about Bloodmoon. That they were savage. That they were ruthless. That they showed no mercy. Some of those rumors were useful. Some were exaggerated. But one thing was true: Bloodmoon did not harm without reason. If someone crossed their border by mistake and meant no harm, they were released—with a healthy dose of fear to ensure they never tried again. But this— This was different. An omega female fleeing Silver Fang. Why would she run here? As he strode across the territory toward the hospital, Ryker’s gaze swept over his pack. Warriors trained in the sparring field. Omegas carried baskets of herbs and fresh bread. Pups chased one another across the open clearing, laughter echoing freely. Safe. Secure. Protected. That was what he had built. Balance. Omegas and warriors. Strength and care. Yin and yang. Omegas were not weak. They were different. And the pack could not function without them. The idea of one being hunted— His wolf stirred restlessly inside him. “What is wrong with you?” Ryker muttered internally. His wolf growled low. A sharp, impatient sound that startled him. That never happened. “Seriously. What’s wrong with you?” he asked again. I do not know, his wolf replied, pacing within their shared space. But something is coming. I can feel it. It’s in the air. Ryker inhaled deeply. All he smelled was pine, earth, fresh wind, and the faint metallic scent of the training grounds. “You’re probably smelling yourself,” he teased. “We’ll shift later. You can jump in the lake and calm down.” His wolf growled again. Not amused. Ryker rolled his eyes and continued walking. But as he neared the hospital, something shifted. The air changed. Subtle. Heavy. Charged. He slowed unconsciously. His wolf went completely still. There, his wolf whispered. Ryker felt it now too. Not scent. Not exactly. More like— Pull. He pushed through the hospital doors. The emergency corridor was tense. He saw Kylian immediately, standing rigid near one of the treatment rooms. The healer moved briskly inside. And then— He saw her. Small. Fragile. Pale beyond reason. Lying motionless on the hospital bed. Bruised. Exhausted. Clothes torn from the forest. Hair matted with dried sweat and dirt. She looked— Broken. The moment his eyes landed on her— His wolf exploded. MATE! The word was not a thought. It was a roar. It ripped through his mind and out of his chest at the same time. “Mate,” Ryker breathed, the word escaping him without conscious thought. The world narrowed. The corridor faded. There was only her. Her scent—faint beneath exhaustion and blood—hit him like lightning. Not Silver Fang. Not rogue. Something deeper. Familiar. Destined. Kylian looked at his alpha. Then at the unconscious female. Then back at Ryker. His expression shifted from confusion to realization in seconds. “Oh… s**t,” Kylian muttered under his breath. Ryker took one step forward. Then another. His wolf was vibrating inside him. It is her. The healer glanced up briefly at the sudden change in energy. “Alpha—” “What is her condition?” Ryker demanded, though his voice sounded distant to his own ears. “She is severely exhausted,” the healer replied. “Signs of recent trauma. Severe bond rejection. Dehydration. Malnourishment.” Rejection. The word slammed into him. She had rejected someone. Or someone had rejected her. His wolf snarled possessively. They hurt her. Ryker reached the bedside. Up close, she looked even more fragile. Her lashes rested softly against her cheeks. Her breathing was shallow but steady. His hand hovered over hers. He didn’t touch her yet. Afraid. Afraid she would disappear if he did. “Kylian,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off her. “Tell me everything.” Behind him, the air in the hospital had shifted. Not with fear. Not with danger. But with something ancient. Fate had just crossed Bloodmoon’s border. And nothing in the territory would ever be the same again.