Chapter 2 The Scent of Her

The scent hit Kael like a punch to the chest.

He froze mid-step, one boot sinking into the wet earth of the forest floor, every hair on his body standing on end. Musk, lavender, salt... and blood. It cut through the night air, faint but unmistakable. He sucked in another breath, his nostrils flaring, and his wolf growled deep in his mind.

Mate.

"Alpha?" Jarek, his Beta, stepped up beside him, eyes scanning the trees. "You scent something?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't.

The world narrowed, vision blurring, instincts taking control. His heart pounded with a fury he hadn't known in years. That scent - it was her. It wasn't just a vague trace like before, not a dream or a tease on the wind.

It was fresh. Near.

"Northwest. Three miles," he said hoarsely, already shifting.

Bones cracked. Muscle twisted. His body warped into his wolf form - towering, black-furred, a beast of nightmare and myth. His paws hit the ground hard as he bolted, trees whipping past in a blur of motion and rage.

The wind brought more of her with every stride.

And something else.

Blood. Fear. Chains.

Meanwhile...

The potion burned as Ember swallowed it, her throat raw. Caleb watched her from the shadows, his smirk cruel, his arms folded across his chest.

"Good girl," he purred. "You keep drinking, and I keep letting you breathe. Fair trade, isn't it?"

Ember said nothing. Her eyes were hollow, but deep in the back of them, something sparked. Something alive.

She hadn't told him about the dreams. About the warmth growing in her belly. About how her wolf had moved inside her last night - weak, but present.

She was waking up.

"Don't forget," Caleb said, leaning down, pressing a hand around her throat. "If you even think about shifting, I'll break your spine. You're nothing but property, Ember. Broken. Unwanted."

He didn't see the fire that flickered in her gaze.

He didn't hear the snarl that echoed outside the walls.

But she did. And so did every other rogue in that cursed house.

Back in the forest...

Kael's paws skidded to a stop at the edge of a clearing, ears perked. The ruined farmhouse reeked of rot, sweat, and old magic - but her scent was fresh. Close. Too close to the stench of males. He shifted back, panting, chest heaving.

"She's here," he growled to Jarek, who had finally caught up.

"We can't charge in blind," Jarek hissed. "We don't know how many-"

"She. Is. Here."

Kael eyes glowed amber in the dark.

"I don't give a fuck if it's a hundred rogues. They're already dead."