The ground still smelled of blood and burnt adrenaline.
Theron stood at the edge of the clearing, moonlight casting silver bars across his bare shoulders. The pack had cleared the area, but he'd stayed behind, silent, tense, unmoving.
Waiting.
Listening.
There.
A breeze stirred the treetops — and with it, a scent. Sweet. Artificial. Out of place in the wild.
Perfume.
Feminine. Deliberate. Familiar.
Theron's lips peeled back in a silent snarl. He stepped forward, eyes narrowing, following the scent trail winding through the trees like a thread of silk.
And then he saw it.
Caught on a low-hanging branch: a single strand of golden hair. Pale. Shimmering. Too long to belong to any wolf in the area — and too clean.
He reached for it carefully, nostrils flaring.
The perfume clung to it.
Vanilla.
Floral undertones.
Expensive.
Human.
Theron's heartbeat slowed, cold realization settling in his gut. He knew this scent. He'd smelled it on Aiden once before, a long time ago — back when they'd first met. Back when Aiden was still trying to pretend he belonged in the human world.
Evelyn.
His fingers curled around the strand tightly.
A few steps later, he found the paw print in the mud. Small. Lighter than a warrior's. Beta-level weight. Maybe a gamma. Could be a rogue — but no rogue would move with such precision.
This one wasn't running wild.
It was guiding.
And it led right to the edge of the territory.
Right to the old stone marker where Theron's lands ended — and the world of humans began.
The city lights shimmered faintly in the far distance. Theron stood on the border, gaze hard as steel, the golden hair still clutched between his fingers.
"Evelyn," he murmured, voice laced with disbelief and fury.
He'd heard Aiden mention her — the human ex-girlfriend. The one who broke his heart, who left without answers. The one Aiden refused to talk about in detail. Theron hadn't thought much of it.
She was human. Irrelevant. Gone.
But now?
She wasn't just a ghost from the past. She was in his territory. Leaving traces on his trees. Standing downwind from his mate.
The whistle. The rogues. The test.
They weren't random.
She had been watching.
And maybe, just maybe… she hadn't let Aiden go at all.
Back at the Den
Ronan found him just as he returned, eyes scanning the evidence Theron dropped on the table — the golden hair, the faint perfume-scented scrap of bark, and the cast of the paw print pressed into a slab of packed soil.
"You found something," Ronan said grimly.
Theron's answer was a growl. "Someone. Evelyn."
Ronan stiffened. "The human?"
"No. Not just human anymore." Theron's silver eyes gleamed. "This wasn't curiosity. This was control. Evelyn's scent wasn't panicked or accidental. She led the rogues here. She stood and watched. And she knew exactly how close to get without being caught."
Ronan swallowed hard. "You think she's… working with them?"
Theron didn't answer for a moment.
Then: "I think she's the one calling them."
Meanwhile…
Far from the den, across the border, deep within the glittering sprawl of the human city, a woman in a sleek black coat leaned against a rooftop balcony. The moonlight shimmered on her golden hair as she smiled, tracing a clawed nail down the stem of a wine glass.
"Stupid mutts," she whispered.
Behind her, two rogues knelt, blood still drying on their fur.
"I told you not to touch him," she said softly, swirling the wine. "You were just supposed to watch. Now the Alpha King knows."
One of the rogues whimpered.
Evelyn turned slowly, eyes glowing green.
"That was your only warning."
With a flick of her hand, the rogue screamed — and fell still.
Evelyn sipped her wine and turned her eyes to the forest in the distance.
"Don't worry, Aiden," she whispered. "You'll come home to me… eventually."