Chapter 3: Wounds in the Downpour

The rain had returned with a vengeance by the time Theo's radio crackled again. I stood beside the scout's body, boots sinking into mud that smelled like copper and wet pine, while his steel-gray eyes stayed locked on me. My rune stone dug into my palm, but I didn't let go. Not when those amber burns across the dead man's chest looked exactly like my magic.

"You didn't do this." His voice came out rough, almost an order. But the doubt was there too, flickering at the edges like the storm itself. It twisted something ugly in my gut.

I kept my mouth shut. Words had never done me any favors with this pack. Theo rose from his crouch, shoulders squared in that way that made lesser wolves drop their gazes. Rain plastered his dark hair to his skull, and his jaw clenched so tight I thought the muscle might snap.

His hand twitched toward the spot over his heart before he caught himself. The mate bond pulled between us, live and painful, and I traced my rejection scar without thinking. His gaze followed the movement.

"The burns match," I said finally, staring at the body instead of him. "Someone wanted it to look like me."

He exhaled through his nose, the sound rough. "I want to believe you. But that power you're carrying... I can smell the corruption on you, Paloma."

The admission hung there between us, fragile in the downpour. I risked a glance at him. His profile was all hard angles, but something in his eyes had softened just a fraction. It wasn't trust. Not yet. Just the first crack in ten years of iron control.

My wolf whined to press closer. I told her to shut up. "Then arrest me. Or don't. But standing here getting soaked won't solve it."

Theo's mouth twitched, almost a smile, but it died fast. He jerked his chin toward the tree line where his truck waited, headlights cutting weak beams through the deluge. "Get in. We're checking the border trail before the others show up and lose their minds."

I almost laughed at how carefully he wasn't choosing a side. The sound died when I saw the set of his mouth. He was fighting it, every step. Alpha Theodore Kavanaugh, still trying to be the man his father raised even as the bond tugged him my way.

We trudged to the truck in silence, boots squelching. Inside, the cab smelled like old coffee and him—storm winds and something darker. I peeled off my wet jacket while he cranked the heat, the vents blasting lukewarm air that did nothing for the chill in my bones. Water dripped from my curls onto the leather seats.

Theo didn't look at me as he drove along the border trail, wipers slapping rhythmically. His knuckles were white on the wheel. I could feel the questions building in him like thunderheads.

"I didn't kill him," I said, staring out at the blurred evergreens. "But if your pack sees those burns, they'll come for me with teeth."

He rubbed his chest again, unconsciously. "They're already talking. Marcus radioed in right before I found you. Said the flare at the gate yesterday looked exactly like this."

The truck hit a pothole, jolting us both. I pulled the rune stone from my pocket, turning it over in the dim light. The carvings caught the glow from the radio, ancient symbols that hummed against my skin.

"This helps keep it steady. A little." I traced one groove with my thumb. "Picked it up years ago. Reminds me of the old stories."

Theo's eyes flicked to it, then back to the road. His breath caught. "That symbol. I've seen it before. In my father's study."

The words landed heavy. I didn't push. Not yet. The memory of that night tried to rise, but I shoved it down. No need to drag up details that would only make him shut down harder. The rejection was enough. The scar on my collarbone itched like it agreed.

"Your father has a lot of secrets," I said instead, keeping my voice soft but precise. "Wolfsbane tea every morning. Serena mentioned it once. Says it keeps the edge off something worse."

Theo went very still. The rain seemed to quiet for a heartbeat. When he looked at me again, the doubt in his eyes had cracked open into something raw. Not belief. Not yet. But fear. And a flicker of the man who'd once looked at me like I was his whole world.

"My mother died in an accident," he said, but the words sounded like they tasted wrong. His free hand rubbed that spot over his heart again, harder this time. "He always said—"

"He says a lot of things." I touched his wrist lightly, feeling his pulse jump under my fingers. The contact sent warmth blooming through my veins, chasing away the chill. My wolf pushed forward, greedy. I yanked her back. "I'm not asking you to burn everything down, Theo. Just... look. Before the pack turns this into a hunt."

He didn't pull away. His fingers curled around mine for half a second, the rune trapped between our palms. The bond flared gently, a quiet hum rather than wildfire. I felt it in my bones, in the way my scar stopped itching and started warming. His breath mingled with mine in the small space, fogging the windows further.

"I defended you on the radio," he growled, voice dropping to that dangerous purr that always undid me. "Told them to stand down until we have facts. If they find out I'm driving around with you instead of locking you up..."

"Then we're both screwed." I leaned in despite myself, drawn by the heat of him. Our foreheads almost touched. "Welcome to my world. It's been like this for ten years."

The moment stretched, thick with everything we weren't saying. I could taste the coffee on his breath, feel the tremor in his hand where it held mine. My mind supplied the sarcasm my mouth wouldn't: Great job, Paloma. Almost forgiving the man who broke you because his truck smells nice.

Then his radio crackled to life. "Alpha, Elias is asking for an update. Says the pack is getting restless about the outsider."

Theo cursed under his breath and released me. The loss of contact left me cold, the rune suddenly heavy in my lap. He put the truck in gear, jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grind.

We drove in charged silence toward the main compound, the rain easing to a steady drizzle. I slipped the rune back into my pocket, its warmth a reminder of how close I'd let myself get. Again. My heart raced with conflicting pulls—revenge still tasted sweet, but this fragile thread between us made it burn bitter.

Elias waited on the covered porch of the main house as we pulled up, silver-streaked hair dry and perfectly styled. His walking cane gleamed, the silver head hiding secrets I knew too well. He smiled with his mouth only, eyes as cold as the mist rolling off the mountains.

"Paloma, my dear." His voice carried that false paternal warmth that used to fool me. "How good it is to see you returned to us. The pack is... concerned about recent events."

I stepped out of the truck, chin high even as my stomach twisted. Theo moved to stand beside me, close enough that our arms brushed. The contact steadied me more than I wanted to admit.

"Elias." I kept my tone even, soft-spoken like always. But the precision in my words cut like glass. "Concerned. That's one word for it. Another might be 'framed.'"

His laugh was smooth, cultured. It sent ice down my spine. "Still carrying old grudges, I see. Some bonds are better severed, child. For the good of the pack."

Theo shifted beside me, his hand brushing the small of my back. Protective. Or possessive. Maybe both. The mate bond hummed approval even as my mind screamed caution. Easy there, wolf. We still hate him. Mostly.

"Father, the scout's death has the pack on edge," Theo said, voice clipped. "Amber burns. They're pointing at Paloma."

Elias's eyes flicked between us, noting the proximity. Something calculating flashed there before he masked it with concern. "Terrible business. But I'm sure my son will handle it with his usual... efficiency. Now, Paloma, perhaps we could speak alone? Old times and all that."

"No." The word came from both of us at once. I glanced at Theo, surprised. His expression had gone hard, the Alpha mask firmly in place but cracking at the edges with visible effort.

Elias wound an invisible clock with his fingers, that old habit giving him away. His smile never wavered. "Very well. The Blood Moon Rite approaches quickly. Blood calls to blood, after all. I do hope you'll both be... prepared."

He turned and walked inside, cane tapping against wood in perfect rhythm. The sound echoed like a metronome, counting down to something I couldn't name. I watched him go, the rune in my pocket suddenly burning hot against my thigh.

Theo let out a breath I hadn't realized he'd been holding. "We can't go to the ritual grounds yet. Not with eyes on us. But the old storage shed near the border has some of his old journals. If we're going to do this, it has to be careful. Before he covers his tracks."

I nodded, though my heart raced with conflicting emotions. Having him even this close to my side felt like victory and the sharp sting of almost-trust at the same time. My pulse kicked harder at the first, my wolf pulling restlessly at the second. The revenge I'd craved for a decade suddenly sat uneasy in my chest.

We slipped away from the house under the cover of the fading rain, heading for the shed instead of anything more dramatic. The small building smelled of dust and old paper, nothing like the ancient power I'd expected. Theo pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, the beam cutting through the gloom to reveal stacked crates and faded markings on the walls.

We moved together without discussion, shoulders brushing as we searched. His presence filled the space, making it hard to breathe. Every time our hands neared the same crate, heat built between us. Not the violent flare, but a slow simmer that made my skin flush and my wolf pace restlessly.

"Here," he murmured, pulling out a worn journal. His breath ghosted across my neck as he leaned in, sending shivers racing down my arms. "This mentions runes. My father's handwriting."

I turned to look at him, our faces inches apart in the dim light. The mate bond surged, pulling me toward him with undeniable force. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then to the scar at my collarbone. His fingers lifted, hovering just above the raised skin.

"Does it still hurt?" The question was barely a whisper, rough with ten years of something that looked a lot like regret.

"Every damn day." I didn't pull away. Couldn't. His scent surrounded me, the warmth of his body cutting through the shed's chill. Unfair, my mind supplied with dark humor. Ten years and his stupid hands still wreck me. "Just like you said yours does."

His hand settled on my shoulder, thumb brushing the scar with devastating gentleness. The contact ignited something deep inside me, a rush of power that made my vision waver. Amber light began to glow faintly at the edges of my sight, but this time it felt different. Shared. Unstable.

Theo's breath quickened. His other hand found my waist, steadying me as the magic built. The bond between us flared, warm and insistent. I gasped, clutching his shirt as my knees weakened.

"Paloma." His voice held warning and want in equal measure. "Your eyes..."

I felt it then—the corruption surging, my wolf twisting in ways that weren't natural. Warmth trickled from the corner of my eye, and when I reached up, my fingers came away stained amber. Not blood. Something worse. The power I'd taken was fighting the bond even as it craved it, tearing me apart from the inside.

Theo's grip tightened, pulling me closer until our hearts beat against each other. "Breathe. I've got you. For now."

But as the amber spread and my vision blurred with unnatural light, I wasn't sure anyone could. Not even the man whose touch still set my soul on fire. The shed seemed to close in, the journals whispering secrets I wasn't ready to hear, while outside the rain continued its relentless fall—like the heavens themselves were trying to wash away sins that refused to fade.