The beam of the flashlight didn't fully reach that edge of the clearing, but Kidd saw it anyway. Beneath the skin along Zeke's neck and jawline, the veins began to pulse darker. They weren't turning blue.
They were blackening.
Fenrir was responding to emotion.
"Go…" Zeke gasped, struggling to pull air into his lungs. "I don't know how this—"
His voice fractured, slipping into a low, uncontrolled rumble.
Kidd lifted his hand slightly, signaling the others not to intervene without his command, even as tension spread through the clearing like live current.
"Go!" Zeke tried again, louder this time, directing it toward Ithilien and Marco.
Ithilien did not move.
She stood several steps away, upright, her figure clearly outlined in the flashlight's glow. Her scent was steady and even, like an anchor driven deep into the earth.
"Careful," she replied coolly, "or I'll be the first to turn my back."
Her tone was not a shout, nor a challenge. It was a warning.
Tauriel beneath her skin did not growl, but she was present—alert, focused on a single point.
Zeke hesitated.
For a fraction of a second, his gaze shifted from Kidd to her.
The black pulse beneath his skin intensified.
"Alright, Montana," Kidd said calmly, stepping back a few paces so that he stood half a step in front of her while still leaving her space to act. "Tell us what to do."
There was no sarcasm in it. No struggle for dominance. Only acknowledgment of the situation.
Ithilien did not look at him. Her attention remained entirely on Zeke, whose body was now revealing more unmistakable signs of an impending shift.
"Wait," she answered shortly. "Stay calm, puppies. Everyone steady on your feet. I want to see your wolves completely still."
Her voice wasn't raised, yet it carried clearly. She took command as if she had been doing it for years. Kidd felt a shiver run down his spine.
Since the day he became alpha, no one had given him orders like that. Not with that certainty.
Zane shifted first, dropping into his wolf form and freezing in place, paws planted wide, head lifted but not tense. Levi followed. The twins assumed alert yet motionless stances. Carter stepped back half a pace but never took his eyes off Zeke.
The pack formed a stable circle.
"And you, Zeke," Ithilien said more gently, "don't fight it. Focus only on your breathing. We'll handle the rest."
Zeke was panting hard, his hands clenching and unclenching in a spasmodic rhythm. The blackness beneath his skin pulsed more visibly now, spreading along his neck and shoulders as if something were trying to break through to the surface.
"No… I can't—" he groaned, but his voice fractured midway.
The first crack sounded without warning.
His spine arched in an unnatural curve, and Zeke dropped to his knees. Bones shifted faster than in a typical first transformation, as though his body were scrambling to keep up with an impulse stronger than instinct alone.
His arms lengthened, fingers shortening as nails darkened and hardened in seconds. His skin stretched tight, and beneath it a wave of tremors rolled through—shorter this time, more controlled than Thiago's had been.
The blackened veins did not disappear immediately, but they began to diffuse, as though diluted by another signal in the air.
Fur erupted faster than it should have.
Copper-toned, deep and warm, with darker streaks running along his spine. The coat was shorter than that of a fully mature male, yet dense and glossy in the flashlight's beam. The shape that emerged from the transformation was leaner than the average male wolf—long-legged, built more for speed than mass.
His eyes opened slowly.
Yellowish. Bright, almost amber.
Not entirely calm.
The wolf spun in place, whining softly as if trying to rediscover the boundaries of his own body. His movements were quick and restless, but not chaotic. The scent of adrenaline still lingered in the air, though it no longer dominated with raw aggression.
Ithilien took a single step forward.
"Good," she said quietly.
Slowly, without abrupt gestures, she slipped off her coat and laid it on the damp ground. The cool air immediately intensified her natural scent. Jasmine sharpened, cleaner, stronger.
Zeke lifted his head.
The pitch of his whine shifted.
He circled once more, but his movements began to slow. The energy in the clearing changed almost tangibly, as if a taut rope had been loosened by a careful hand.
"It's alright," she said, holding his gaze.
Her voice was not a command.
It was an anchor.
Tauriel's calm, steady presence spread through the clearing, weaving between the trees, brushing against each wolf. Zane lowered his head slightly. Levi's neck stopped bracing. The twins ceased their low, unconscious growls.
Even Adrahil, standing just behind her, let his muscles ease.
At last, the copper wolf stilled, still breathing hard. His eyes remained bright, but the blackness beneath his skin had vanished entirely.
There was no frenzy.
No attack.
Only chaos that had just found its point of balance.
"Alright… just like that. Slowly…" Ithilien murmured, never breaking eye contact with the amber gaze of the copper wolf.
Her voice was not loud, yet it carried cleanly through the damp air, like a steady line cutting through chaos and giving it direction. She breathed consciously, evenly, letting each inhale and exhale remain visible, controlled. She could feel her heart accelerating, oxygen spreading faster through her system, blood moving beneath her skin with an intensity she should not have sustained much longer. Stabilizing a young wolf required more than words—it demanded energy, focus, inner stillness.
Outwardly, she stood motionless, almost statuesque, but beneath that calm surface the strain was beginning to take its toll. Her calves trembled faintly. The muscles in her thighs burned from holding position. For a fleeting moment, the ground beneath her feet felt less stable than it should have.
Her legs softened slightly.
She ignored it.
I'm tired. I shouldn't even be here. What am I doing?
Zeke stopped circling. His movements slowed, his breathing deepened, less ragged now. The copper fur ceased its trembling, and the tension along his spine visibly eased. The pack remained perfectly still, just as she had commanded—six powerful forms contained within a controlled circle, ready but not intervening.
Kidd stood directly behind her, present like a wall. His energy was broad and steady, stretched wide like an invisible shield over the clearing. She felt it at her back—both weight and support at once.
It seemed as though control had been reclaimed. As though balance, fragile though it was, would hold long enough for Zeke's transformation to settle into a natural rhythm.
And then it came.
Not from the clearing.
Not from the forest.
The impact was sudden and violent, like a sharp tug on an invisible thread.
Ace.
Not an image. Not a memory. Not a conscious thought.
The bond.
Strong, primal, stretched across hundreds of miles yet still alive and active. An alpha's instinct sensing danger and responding. A wave of unrest cut through her awareness like a blade, slicing through the concentration she had built over the past several minutes.
It lasted only a fraction of a second.
But it was enough.
Tauriel flinched beneath her skin.
Ithilien swayed—barely, almost imperceptibly—but to the wolf facing her it was like a sudden shift in air pressure. Copper ears twitched sharply. The yellow eyes that had begun to brighten with calm darkened abruptly, as if shadow had fallen across them.
Zeke was regaining awareness, but not control. The instant Ithilien's stabilizing energy faltered under the external surge, something inside him snapped.
The aggression did not return gradually.
It exploded.
The wolf lunged forward with sudden, shocking force. Earth sprayed beneath his paws as he tore free from where he stood.
Kidd reacted first. In one fluid sequence of movement, he placed himself between Zeke and Ithilien, his shoulder nearly brushing hers, shielding her instinctively. Colton leapt from the left, attempting to cut off his trajectory, while Carter closed the space from the right, low to the ground and ready to collide.
But the copper wolf was faster than a first transformation should have allowed. At the last possible second, he twisted sharply, rolling low across the ground and slipping through the gap between Colton and Carter. His movement was too precise, too elastic, as though his body responded faster than consciousness could catch up.
"Now!" Kidd snarled, the sound of his voice pure command.
The pack moved as one.
Levi and Zane shifted mid-stride, their forms lengthening and dropping to four paws without losing speed. The twins launched forward like coiled springs released, and Carter pivoted sharply to intercept the escape route—but Zeke had already reached the edge of the clearing.
The copper shape vanished between the trees.
The forest answered at once—the crack of snapping branches, the hiss of torn leaves, the sudden, feral rhythm of bodies in pursuit.
Kidd did not look back. Black fur dissolved into the darkness between the trees as Adrahil took over fully, his stride long and relentless.
Ithilien stood motionless for one more second, feeling the echo of her bond with Ace still trembling beneath her skin like residual lightning that refused to fade.
Not now.Not now.
Tauriel lifted her head inside her, alert and ready.
The forest swallowed the pack like a dark wave. Breaking branches, the heavy breath of wolves, the scent of wet earth and adrenaline merged into one violent melody of pursuit. Zeke's copper shape flashed between the trees with a speed that did not belong to a first transformation.
Ithilien remained at the edge of the clearing for a fraction longer, the bond with Ace still pulsing beneath her skin. This was not a memory. It was a signal. An alpha's instinct sensing danger and answering.
Somewhere far away.In Evergreen.
Evergreen.
Home.
The word rang strangely in her mind.
What home would she return to? The city where Ace had just begun his honeymoon? The place where her presence had slowly become unnecessary—awkward, almost misplaced?
The forest before her was not her territory. The pack vanishing into the trees was not her pack. Formally, she had no responsibility here. She should step back. She should take Marco and return to safety, to neutrality. To her studies. To the role of observer.
Not to the stabilizing Luna of another alpha's pack.
Her breathing quickened.
Marco stepped closer and caught her lightly by the arm.
"Ilien, they won't manage without you."
She glanced at him over her shoulder, drawing in a shallow breath as she tried to steady the storm inside her.
"Oh, to hell with it!"
There was no panic in his eyes—only understanding. He knew this was no simple chase after a young wolf. He knew Fenrir was testing boundaries tonight.
"I'll se you later," she said.
Or I won't.
The thought was cold but honest.
In human form she would never catch them. That meant breaking the pact she had made with herself.
She stepped to the center of the clearing. Damp earth cooled her bare feet. She closed her eyes briefly. She had not shifted in months—since everything had begun to fracture.
The transformation did not arrive as pain.
It came as relief.
Bones shifted fluidly, without violent cracks. Her spine lengthened in a familiar, long-awaited motion, as though her body welcomed the return to something it had missed. Her skin shivered, and from beneath it spilled silver fur—bright and clean as winter light.
Muscles tightened in harmony, not chaos. Her hands touched the ground already paws—slender but strong. The world sharpened instantly: scents layered and separated, sounds carried farther, the pulsing echo of the running pack clear as a heartbeat.
Tauriel stood in the clearing.
Slim, silver-furred, seeming almost luminous in the half-dark. She was lighter than the massive males, yet no less assured. There was no hesitation in her stance—only focused readiness.
The she-wolf lifted her head.
The copper scent was sharp and fresh, threaded with Fenrir's metallic edge. Beneath it she caught Adrahil's darker presence, Levi's heavier stride, the twins' quicker rhythm.
Silver flashed between the trees almost soundlessly, as if the forest yielded to her without resistance. She had not felt this speed, this unity of body and instinct, in a long time. If not for the desperate pursuit of a destabilized young wolf, she might have felt almost—
Happy.
God, I sound like some bitter old woman, she scoffed inwardly as cold forest air filled her lungs.
Tauriel did not linger on the thought. She surrendered to the chase completely, stretching into her full speed, every muscle aligning with instinct. The forest blurred into streaks of shadow and silver as she slipped between Christian and Levi in a clean, effortless arc. Damp earth gave beneath her paws, cold air cutting sharp into her lungs.
Ahead, Zeke ran too fast.
Not just fast for a new wolf—fast in a way that felt wrong. His stride lengthened unnaturally, back legs driving with explosive force, copper fur flashing between the trees like a spark carried on wind. Fenrir pulsed in him; she could smell it now—metallic, electric, threaded through adrenaline.
He didn't weave blindly.
He chose terrain.
Instead of bolting in a straight line, he veered toward denser undergrowth, toward a slope cluttered with slick stones and tangled roots. Smart. Or something inside him was calculating faster than panic should allow.
"Cut him off!" Levi barked through the pack-link of instinct and motion.
Zane lunged low, jaws snapping inches from Zeke's hind legs. He missed, but the sound cracked through the night like a gunshot. Zeke twisted mid-stride with impossible flexibility, hindquarters folding under him as he pivoted sharply downhill.
Too sharp.
His paws skidded on wet leaves. For half a heartbeat, his balance broke.
Tauriel seized the opening.
She launched forward, clearing a fallen trunk in a powerful bound, landing nearly level with him. A sharp, resonant snarl tore from her chest as she angled to shoulder him off course.
But Zeke reacted faster than she anticipated.
Instead of colliding, he dropped low and rolled, using the slope to carry him beneath her arc. She felt only the brush of copper fur against her flank as he slipped past, rebounding uphill with startling agility. The maneuver wasn't instinct alone. It was adaptive.
Fenrir was learning.
Branches snapped as he drove toward a narrow ravine cut by winter runoff. The drop wasn't deep, but it was steep enough to slow heavier wolves. He leapt without hesitation.
Christian swore mid-bound. Levi barely adjusted in time.
Tauriel hit the edge a fraction later. She did not slow. She gathered herself and sprang, clearing the ravine in a long, suspended moment where the world fell silent except for the rush of blood in her ears. She landed hard but stable, claws digging into mud.
Behind her, Adrahil crashed through brush—not clumsy, but relentless. His presence thundered through the trees, dominance made physical.
Zeke darted again, breath ragged now, but his speed remained terrifyingly intact. The black pulse beneath his skin flickered faintly through copper fur, visible where it thinned at the throat.
He wasn't just fleeing.
He was searching.
For escape. For advantage. For distance from her.
Tauriel understood in a flash—her stabilizing presence was too close. It was pulling at him even now. Confusing him. Fighting the surge inside him.
So she changed tactics.
Instead of pursuing directly, she veered wide, disappearing briefly behind a stand of firs. She dampened her energy—not withdrawing it, but redirecting it. Drawing him sideways rather than pressing from behind.
Zeke hesitated.
Just a fraction.
His ears twitched, head snapping toward where her scent flared stronger to the right. Instinct tugged at him, conflicting with flight.
That was enough.
Carter slammed into his left flank from the shadows, not to tackle but to destabilize. Zeke stumbled, claws gouging into bark as he tried to recover. Levi closed from the front, massive shoulders blocking the narrow game trail.
For a split second, copper met black as Adrahil surged in.
Zeke tried one last desperate feint—dropping low, twisting to slip between them again—but exhaustion had finally begun to bite. Fenrir had burned through too much too fast.
Tauriel struck cleanly this time.
She collided with him in a controlled, driving motion, knocking him sideways into the soft earth at the base of a cedar. Her foreleg pinned his shoulders as her weight bore down—not crushing, but unyielding.
Half a heartbeat later, Adrahil was there.
The black wolf did not rush.
He stepped forward with absolute authority and closed his jaws around the back of Zeke's neck—not puncturing, not tearing, but claiming. The pressure was precise. Dominance. Containment. Command.
Zeke froze.
The copper body shuddered once, twice. A sharp, broken whine escaped him—not defiance, not fury.
Submission.
The forest stilled gradually around them, the wild rhythm of pursuit fading into the steady sound of breathing.
It had not been easy.
And as Tauriel eased her weight but did not step away, she understood something unsettling.
Fenrir did not simply make wolves stronger.
It made them adaptive.
The forest slowly returned to balance. Heavy breathing eased one by one, steam rising from wolf muzzles into the cold night air. Adrahil released Zeke's neck only when the copper wolf stopped trembling beneath the weight of dominance.
Zane approached first, carefully, without sudden movement. Thiago followed close behind—his posture still carrying the fresh memory of his own first shift.
"Easy," Zane murmured low. "It's over."
Thiago nudged Zeke's side with his nose, a brief, uncertain gesture of support. The copper wolf tried to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him. His fur was still bristled, his eyes bright with lingering distress, his breathing too fast.
He was shaking. Burning up.
Tauriel stepped closer and sensed it clearly—beneath the scent of damp earth and crushed leaves lingered the sharp note of an overheated body.
He's running a fever, Ithilien thought with quiet sympathy.
"Hey. Breathe," Thiago said softly, already in human form, kneeling beside him as Zeke began shifting back. "The first time is always… weird."
"Weird?" Carter snorted, shifting as well. "That was the best chase we've had in months."
The twins exchanged looks, visibly exhilarated, adrenaline still bright in their veins.
"Did you see that turn on the slope?" Christian added with a wide grin. "I thought Levi was going to end up in the bushes."
"I almost did," Levi muttered, then glanced toward Ithilien. His gaze softened. "If it weren't for you, we'd be chasing him until morning."
There was no exaggeration in his tone. It was a sober assessment.
Tauriel lifted her head slightly, accepting the words without visible reaction, though inside she felt a brief, quiet satisfaction. The effort had meant something. The risk had meant something.
The adrenaline was fading.
That was when Kidd spoke.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"That's enough," he said shortly.
The excitement died almost instantly. One by one, they returned to human form, wolf energy retreating beneath skin. The air filled with the sound of shifting bones and tightening muscles until wolves were replaced by men—mud-streaked, winded, flushed from the run.
Kidd stepped closer to the silver she-wolf, a strange expression on his face. When he spoke, he measured each word.
"I appreciate that you joined us. But don't do that again."
Silence settled.
The she-wolf was still steadying her breath, but she clearly heard the warning threaded through the alpha's tone.
"It's enough that I'm responsible for my pack's safety. I don't need another alpha on my territory if something happens to you."
It felt as though the air left Ithilien all at once. That small, quiet sense of duty fulfilled extinguished suddenly, like a flame snuffed by a single breath. The she-wolf dipped her head slightly and gestured with her muzzle toward the path back.
Kidd said nothing for a moment. He watched her longer than the situation required, as though weighing something he chose not to say.
Finally, he nodded.
"Fine."
She didn't look at anyone. She simply turned, nearly soundless, and disappeared between the trees as if the forest belonged to her as naturally as it did to them.
Only the scent of jasmine remained in the clearing, slowly dissolving into the cold air.
Kidd stood still for another moment before turning back to the others.
"Uh… ahem…" Carter cleared his throat. "So… is someone going to explain what her deal is?"
"Carter?" Levi looked at him coolly. "Shut up."
"Yes, sir."