I saw him before he saw me. A flicker of movement against the moonlit trees—nervous pacing, arms folded tightly across his chest, head down, then up, scanning the woods like he wasn't sure whether to stay or flee. The moonlight caught his silver-blonde hair, making it glow. My breath caught in my throat.
Atlas. I barely believed my luck. I'd come here on nothing but a fragile thread of hope, a desperate instinct that had driven me through the forest at a reckless pace—and he was here. Actually here and waiting. For me.
He froze when he noticed my approach, his whole body going still like a deer sensing danger. But then his whole posture softened, shoulders dropping, tension easing. That smile—the small one he tried to hide—tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said as I stepped into the clearing, his voice quiet, almost uncertain.
"I almost didn't," I admitted, walking closer, my heart pounding with relief and urgency. "But I'm glad I did."
His gaze flickered, unsure, searching my face. "I wanted to ask you something. Something important. But—" he hesitated, biting his lip—"you go first. You look like you're about to burst."
I nodded, jaw tightening. "I have to tell you something. And it can't wait."
His shoulders straightened, bracing himself. "Alright."
I opened my mouth… and froze. How could I explain what I'd done? That in a moment of weakness, a stupid blur of pride and bitterness, I'd spilled everything to Dominic. His shifting. His power. His mark. His place in Crimson Fang.
That I was the one who gave Dominic the pieces he needed to put his plan into motion. That I'd betrayed Atlas without even realizing what I was doing.
I couldn't. Not without shattering what fragile trust Atlas still had in me. Not without watching his face close off, watching him walk away forever. So I lied. Just a little. Just enough to protect myself from the truth of what I'd done.
"Dominic found out," I said carefully, choosing my words with precision. "Through the bond between our wolves. Rau… through his link with Gale, his wolf, he let something slip."
Atlas's brows drew together, confusion and concern warring in his expression. "What is it?"
"That I'd seen you. That you were alive. And safe. That you'd… found a place." I met his eyes, forcing myself to hold his gaze even as guilt gnawed at me. "And now Dominic—along with your parents—they're planning to track you down. To bring you back. I heard them talking at dinner tonight. They have a plan."
His face went pale, the color draining from his cheeks, his hands falling to his sides. "Why?"
"I don't know exactly," I admitted, and that at least was true. The prophecy, the balance—I didn't understand any of it. "He said he wants to 'finish something.' Whatever it is… it's not good. Atlas, I don't think they just want you back. I think they want to hurt you. Or worse."
Atlas didn't speak right away. His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw working as he processed what I'd told him, then parted on a breath. "So I'm a problem again."
"No." I stepped forward quickly, closing the distance between us. "You're not. You're just a threat to the version of reality they've built for themselves. You were always stronger than they wanted you to be. That's why they feared you."
His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something fierce in his eyes. Something wild and unbreakable.
"Well, if they come for me, they won't find the same boy they abandoned. Let them try." His voice was low. Steady. Sure. Dangerous.
I almost smiled. Almost felt proud. Because this was the Atlas I'd hoped he could become.
"I'm not sure when we'll be able to meet again," I said, a knot tightening in my throat, making it hard to breathe. "I don't want to lead them to you. Even by accident."
"I get it." He looked up at me, his expression softer now, understanding. "And… it's not your fault. You can't control your wolf's connection to his after all."
His forgiveness hit harder than his anger ever could. Because I knew damn well—that was exactly my fault. I'd done this. I'd set this in motion. I'd betrayed him, even if he didn't know it yet. "Still," I murmured, the word heavy with unspoken guilt. "I'm sorry."
We stood in silence for a long moment, the breeze shifting between us, carrying the scent of pine and earth. Then he looked at me again, something hesitant in his eyes, something uncertain. "Actually," he said, "I have a question."
I blinked. "Yeah?"
"What…" He chewed his bottom lip, a gesture so familiar it made my chest ache. "What are pheromones? And how do you control them?"
I blinked, taken completely off guard by the shift in topic, by the innocent confusion in his voice. "Pheromones?"
"Yes. Someone keeps telling me I need to 'handle' mine," he said, scowling, a hint of frustration coloring his tone. "It sounds like nonsense."
I couldn't help it—I almost laughed at the indignation in his voice. "Well…" I rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to grin. "It's not exactly nonsense. Pheromones are a scent shifters give off—usually when we're attracted to someone. It's… mostly instinctual. A way of drawing in a mate. Your body produces them without conscious thought."
He stared at me, eyes widening. "You're telling me people can just smell when someone's—interested?"
"Basically," I said with a shrug, watching his reaction. "It's not fully conscious. And not everyone can pick up on it. But it's usually… strong. Hard to ignore."
He groaned, covering his face with one hand. "That explains so much."
He started muttering under his breath, things like "stupid nature" and "useless wolf hormones," but I barely heard him anymore.
Because I could smell it now. Just a faint trace—but unmistakable. That scent I'd noticed for years, the one that had always drawn me to him, pulled me toward him like gravity. Pine and snowdrops.
It was his pheromones. And that changed everything. It meant he was attracted to someone. And given the context, given the way he was looking at me right now, given that we were alone together in this clearing…
I took a step closer, gently. Carefully. My hands lifted and cradled his face before I realized what I was doing, before I could stop myself. His eyes went wide, startled, but he didn't pull away. Didn't step back.
"Atlas," I whispered, heart hammering so hard I could barely hear my own words. "Do you still love me?"
His lips parted. His eyes shimmered with confusion and something deeper—something fragile and raw and honest.
"What?" he breathed, voice barely audible. But before he could say anything more—before my heart could rise or break—we both froze.
A rustle. Then a low growl that vibrated through the clearing. I turned, dread pooling in my stomach.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, shoulders tense, muscles coiled, eyes ablaze with fury, was Alpha Draven. And he was furious.