Hunted

Max walked into The Crimson Den with a sense of purpose and frustration burning in his chest. He knew this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t just some random new student. And now he had to finally speak to his father, he needed to tell his father what’s going on.

Michael followed close behind, his usual playful demeanor absent, sensing the shift in Max’s mood. As they entered their father’s office, the scent of ink, paper, and cedar wood filled the air.

The office occupied one of the central towers of the Alpha Wing. Dark wood paneling and soaring ceilings gave it weight without excess. A stone fireplace crackled along one wall. Shelves held books on law, leadership, and territorial governance. Behind the desk, gothic windows stretched nearly floor to ceiling, and through them, Bloodclaw territory spread out for miles—forests, neighborhoods, roads dissolving into the afternoon horizon.

A digital map covered one wall, patrol routes and territorial borders glowing across it as reports updated in real time. The desk was buried in organized paperwork: territorial reports, financial records, school budgets, business permits. On a nearby shelf, a few family photographs. One showed Richard and Emily with the boys when they were younger.

The Beta, Victor Sterling, and Gamma, Silas Nightbane, stood in front of their father’s desk, reviewing reports. Victor stood with his arms crossed. He was lean in the way of someone built for pursuit rather than collision, his dark brown hair pushed back from his face but not quite staying there. His eyes, when they flicked up briefly, were a pale and unsettling blue the kind that registered everything at once. A deep scar ran along his jawline in a jagged line, still sharp-edged even years after whatever had put it there. On his right forearm, where his sleeve was rolled back, the pack’s crest was tattooed into the skin.

Silas stood an inch or two above Victor, and the difference registered. His build was the kind that came from years of actual use—broad through the chest and shoulders, nothing decorative about it. Jet-black hair fell to medium length, loose now but clearly meant to be pulled back; a few strands had crossed his forehead and stayed there. His eyes were storm-gray, the color of water before it turns, moving across the room without urgency and missing nothing. There was a scar through his left eyebrow, pale and old, cutting clean across the hair in a thin diagonal line that disappeared into his brow.

And behind the desk sat Richard, his calculating eyes flicking up the moment they stepped inside. Standing next to him was Emily.

She was the only one in the room who seemed even remotely at ease, sipping a cup of tea as she listened to the discussion. Her gaze flicked between Max and Michael, immediately sensing something was wrong.

Richard, however, wasted no time. “You don’t usually interrupt my meetings,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “What is it?”

Max didn’t hesitate. “There’s a girl at school,” he started, his voice low and measured.

Richard’s brow arched. “And?”

Max met his father’s gaze without wavering. “She has no scent.”

The room fell silent. Emily slowly set her teacup down, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern.

Victor’s expression darkened. “No scent at all?”

Max nodded. “Not human. Not wolf. Not anything.”

Silas let out a low breath, exchanging a look with Richard. Richard’s fingers steepled together, his sharp gaze never leaving Max’s. “You’re sure?”

“I got close enough to tell,” Max said, voice clipped. “There was nothing.” Richard was silent for a long moment, the weight of the conversation settling over the room.

Richard turned to Silas. “How many families have come into our territory in the last month?”

Silas pulled out his phone. His thumb moved across the screen in slow, methodical strokes. Then it stopped. “None…”

“That’s impossible.” Emily set her hand flat on the desk. “Every student enrolled in this district has to provide proof of residency. There’s no getting around it.”

Richard’s jaw shifted. His eyes found Max. “What’s her name?”

“Brianna Heart,” Max said.

Richard’s eyes didn’t move from his son’s face. “You’re sure.”

Max held his father’s gaze. “I asked around.”

Finally, he turned to Victor and Silas. “I want a full background check on her. If she’s using magic to hide her scent, we’ll know soon enough. No mistakes.”

Victor gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

Silas folded his arms. “It might take longer if she’s a supernatural with no official records. If that’s the case, we’ll have to start digging through off-the-books sources.”

Richard’s gaze sharpened. “Then start digging.”

Michael, who had been listening quietly up until now, finally spoke up. “What if she’s just a nobody?” he asked, leaning against the table. “I mean, sure, it’s weird, but she could just be… I don’t know. A runaway? A stray?”

Emily, who had been watching the conversation unfold without interruption, finally sighed.“I doubt it’s that simple,” she said smoothly, lacing her fingers together. “If she were just a lost human or even a rogue supernatural, she wouldn’t be this good at hiding her scent.”

Michael frowned. “You think she’s hiding on purpose?”

Emily’s gaze flicked to Max. “She must be.”

Richard exhaled through his nose, his voice returning to command mode. “Until we have solid answers, I want you both watching her.” His eyes locked onto Max and Michael. “Especially you, Max.”

Max nodded, already expecting the order. Michael groaned. “Why do I have to get dragged into this?”

Richard gave him a sharp look. “Do you have an issue with my orders?”

Michael held up his hands. “Nope. None. Zero.”

Emily, despite the tension in the room, smirked slightly at that. Max wasn’t amused. Because this wasn’t just some casual mission. Something in his gut told him this girl whoever she was. Was going to be trouble.

The next day at school Calista had spent the most of it avoiding Max. It wasn’t easy. She could feel his presence everywhere, his sharp eyes always scanning the crowd. She knew he was watching her hunting her, in his own way.

And she still wasn’t ready to face him again. Not yet. Not until she could figure out why he didn’t feel the bond. So, instead of risking another run in, she slipped into the library one of the few places in the school that was quiet enough for her to think.

The library sat near the center of campus—dark red brick, black stone, tall windows. Calista pushed through the glass doors and the school noise dropped behind her. The atrium spread out in two floors of shelves and warm light, students scattered at tables below with laptops and open books, the quiet sounds of pages and low conversation. Sunlight came through the glass ceiling overhead and fell across the balcony railing of the second floor and the long rows of books beyond it.

For a place filled with so many people, it felt remarkably peaceful. She made her way toward the quieter second floor. Here the atmosphere changed. The conversations disappeared. The study tables were more spread out. Rows of shelves stretched into the distance, while reading nooks occupied the spaces beside enormous windows overlooking the campus.

From where she walked, she could see portions of the courtyard below, students moving between classes, and the distant rooftops of Bloodmoon Academy’s other buildings. She settled at a corner table, pulling out a book on supernatural history, though she barely absorbed the words. Her mind kept circling back to him. To his name. Max.

A name she had whispered to herself over and over last night, turning it over in her mind, trying to understand how everything had gone so wrong. She traced her fingers over the worn pages, exhaling softly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. And then—

She was still tracing the worn page with her fingertip when the impact came a shoulder, solid and sudden, and then the book was gone from her hands and she was grabbing at air. Strong hands gripped her arms, steadying her before she could fall. Still her hip caught the corner of the table. She winced, looked up to get her bearings, and went still.

Him.