Riven
The cabin was dark when Riven stepped inside, but darkness never bothered him. Not anymore. It was silence that grated on him, the too-still hush of a night pretending to be harmless.
He rolled his shoulders once, loosening the tight knot of anger lodged beneath his ribs. The council meeting had been a disaster. Again. The humans wanted more restrictions on wolf movement, more patrols, more borders, more fear disguised as precaution.
And then the last straw.
Humans trespassing into wolf land for entertainment. Tourists trying to capture a glimpse of a wolf on camera, as if they were exhibits in a zoo.
"Deal with it," the council elders had said. "Remind the humans who owns these lands."
Riven's jaw clenched at the memory.
He wanted peace. His people needed peace. But humans kept testing the boundaries, inch by inch, until someone snapped. And when violence erupted, it was never humans who faced the blame.
Riven had ruled the Nightfall Pack for eight years, ever since he tore the previous Alpha from the throne during the Blood Trial. No one had expected the young, quiet soldier to challenge an Alpha twice his age. No one had expected him to win. But Riven had always done what needed doing. Even when it cost him.
A brittle breath escaped him.
He hadn't even taken off his jacket when Kale's voice crashed through his mind, sharp and breathless through the wolf-link.
Alpha, rogue scent on the northern border. Fresh.
Riven's spine snapped straight.
Where?
Two miles past the Hawk Ridge turn. I'm tracking it now.
Riven trusted him. Kale had been his Beta since the night Riven took the Alpha mantle. Loyal. Clever. Fierce. If anyone could handle a lone rogue, it was Kale.
Kale never sounded rattled.
Not unless something was very wrong.
Riven pushed out the door before the thought fully formed. The cold bit at his face, the pine wind tugging at his hair as he shifted mid-stride, bones rearranging, muscles reshaping, fur bursting across skin until the Alpha wolf stood in place of the man.
He tore into the forest at a dead sprint, paws pounding the earth.
Rogues.
There had been too many incidents this season. Too many attacks near their borders. Rogues were the broken ones, the exiled. Wolves who had rejected pack law or who had been twisted by human experiments long ago. Their minds frayed. Their instincts warped. Violence was the only language they remembered.
And lately, they'd been bold. Too bold.
Riven raced toward Kale's scent trail. Branches whipped past him. The forest thickened, the air changing, tension bleeding into the soil.
A second voice struck through the link. Kale again, but panicked this time.
Riven, I found a fight. There's two scents. One of our own. I think a pup engaged. I can't find him. Alpha, I can't find him.
Riven pushed harder, tearing through the underbrush.
A young warrior facing a rogue alone was suicide. Facing two was a death sentence.
Hold your position, Riven ordered. Cavan is a mile behind you. Do not engage until he arrives.
Understood, Kale said, but the fear beneath his voice was unmistakable.
And then Riven smelled it.
Blood.
Too much of it.
He broke through the final tree line and skidded to a halt.
The forest looked like a battlefield.
His breath fogged in front of him as he shifted back into human form, the world snapping into sharper clarity.
The crash site was a twisted wreck of metal and shattered glass. A human car, overturned and crushed. One entire side was ripped open, claw marks delving deep into the bent frame. Trees were split where something massive had collided with them.
He didn't care about humans. They'd earned his hatred over generations. But a human dying this close to his lands? A human attacked by rogues inside his territory?
That was political ruin.
Council outrage. Human retaliation. Accusations of wolf aggression.
Riven stalked around the wreck, reading the ground.
Splintered trees.
A long blood trail.
Deep paw prints.
A rogue scent.
Both strong.
Both fresh.
He inhaled again.
And there it was.
The human scent.
Pungent with fear, but beneath it something softer.
Vanilla.
Warm sugar and cracked sun and something strangely gentle.
He froze.
Humans never smelled like that.
Humans smelled like cities and chemicals and fear and anger.
They smelled like burnt metal and gunpowder from the wars.
They smelled like the hatred that had been carved between their species for centuries.
But this scent curled low in his lungs, unexpected and unwelcome.
He shoved it aside.Kale burst through the brush a breath later, chest heaving. He froze when he saw the destruction.
"Alpha," he rasped. "The pup. I can't... I can't find his trail past the blood."
Riven crouched, fingers brushing the dirt. He inhaled.
"One rogue," he said. "One of ours. They fought."
Kale's throat worked. "A pup tried to protect a human girl."
A strange tension rippled down Riven's spine.
Not because a human girl mattered.
Because of what it meant.
If she died on wolf land, humans would scream massacre.
And if she survived, she'd scream abduction.
Either way, his pack paid the price.
"She's alive," Kale reported. "Barely. The young pup fought a rogue for her."
Riven's jaw clenched.
A pup.
Alone.
Against a rogue.
"Where is he?" Riven asked.
Kale pointed deeper into the forest. Riven nodded.
Find the pup. Make sure he is breathing.
Kale nodded once.
"Yes, Alpha."
Riven moved toward the blood trail.
The forest grew darker.
Thicker.
The air thrummed faintly with the same unsettling magic he had felt in the Wilds earlier this week. The moon's presence felt distorted, like someone had pulled too tightly on an invisible string.
Something was wrong with the land.
Wrong with the Vein-magic beneath it.
He followed the trail until he found the clearing.
His breath stilled.
The human girl lay half-conscious on the forest floor. Blood soaked her thigh. Mud streaked her caramel skin. Her curls were tangled with leaves and broken twigs, spilling wildly around her like a dark halo. One hazelnut eye was open, unfocused, reflecting the faint shine of moonlight.
She clutched a broken branch in her shaking hands as though she still intended to fight.
Even dying, she held her ground.
Riven stepped closer, slow and deliberate, letting his shadow fall over her.
Her half-lidded gaze snapped up, sharpening for a brief moment.
Defiance flickered there, even through the pain.
The branch swung weakly at him.
"Stay back," she rasped. "I swear to God, I'll kill you."
Her voice was raw.
Small.
But the threat was real.
Something stirred beneath his ribs.
Not the mate-bond. Not exactly.
But a pull. A whisper. A spark of recognition from the old magic that lived in all wolves.
Riven ignored it.
Humans were not to be touched.
Not to be trusted.
Not to be protected.
But the rogue's bite mark on her leg made something inside him snarl.
He crouched beside her.
Her fear scent hit him again.
Not city-smog fear.
Not hatred.
Something else.
Something unbearably human.
"You are hurt," he said, voice low.
She flinched like the sound itself cut her.
Her hazelnut eyes widened.
She tried to crawl back, couldn't.
"Don't," she whispered. "Please... don't..."
Riven realized she was begging.
Begging him not to kill her.
His chest tightened with something unpleasant and foreign.
He reached for her.
She swung the branch again, weaker this time.
Her breath hitched, a sob breaking free.
Riven caught her wrist gently.
Her skin was soft.
Warm.
Smooth in a way he did not expect.
He had never touched a human before.
Never been close enough to see their eyes, their fear, their trembling hands.
Never been close enough to smell anything but their anger.
He had not expected... this.
Vanilla and warm earth.
Not poison.
Not hatred.
"You will die if you stay here," he said.
She stared at him, eyes glassy, lips trembling.
"Better than being eaten," she whispered.
He felt it then. Just for a moment.
A tug.
A faint thrum under his sternum, like a drumbeat that was not his own.
The bond.
Flickering like a spark in the dark.
He crushed it instantly.
No.
Not a human.
The moon would not curse him like that.
Riven slid his arms beneath her.
She clawed weakly at him, her fingers scraping his jaw.
"Let me go," she cried. "Please... let me go..."
"Enough." His voice hardened. "You cannot walk."
"I don't want a wolf touching me."
The words hit him harder than they should have.
"Too late," he said quietly.
He lifted her easily.
Her body shook against him.
Her head lolled against his shoulder.
Her breath hitched in a small sob that tightened something inside his chest.
She was so warm.
So breakable.
Her heart thudded too fast, too frightened.
This was a terrible idea.
Bringing a human into his territory was a direct violation of three separate accords.
The council would be furious.
His enemies would use her against him.
The humans would claim he kidnapped her.
War.
This was how wars started.
A movement to his right snapped his head up.
Cavan burst through the trees, shifting mid-stride. The gamma landed in human form, golden eyes blazing as he scanned the scene.
"Alpha," Cavan said, breath ragged. "The pup. He's alive. Barely. I'm getting him out."
Riven nodded once. Relief hit him low and fierce.
"Good. Take him home."
Cavan hesitated. Then his gaze fell to the unconscious girl in Riven's arms.
"A human," he said quietly. "Riven... what are you doing?"
Riven tightened his hold around her.
"Saving her."
The forest fell quiet.
Cavan's throat bobbed. "Bringing a human into our territory will ignite a storm."
"I know."
"And still?"
Riven looked down at the girl's face. Bruised. Bleeding. Fierce even in unconsciousness.
"If she dies," he said, "we burn with her."
Cavan nodded slowly, understanding settling in his eyes.
"Then may the moon watch over us," he murmured.
Riven turned away, the girl's heartbeat fluttering weakly against his chest.
It wasn't a choice.
The forest had shifted tonight. Fate had shifted.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know how.
He only knew one thing as he crossed into the trees with her in his arms.
This human girl would bring war to his doorstep.