Chapter 223
I woke up with my face pressed against Roman’s chest, the scent of him wrapping around me like a warm blanket—cedarwood, something spicy, and a little bit of smug satisfaction.
It took me a minute to realize we’d fallen asleep on the hilltop.
I blinked groggily, lifting my head. The projector had long since died, the last of the fries had vanished (probably into Roman’s bottomless pit of a stomach), and the sky was now awash with pale gray light.
Roman stirred beneath me, one arm curling tighter around my waist.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “We really need to stop using nature as a mattress.”
I grinned, brushing a leaf from his hair. “To be fair, you were the one who said this would be *calculated romance.* You forgot the part about dew and ants.”
“I never forget ants,” he mumbled. “I just pretend they don’t exist.”
Laughing, I stretched and sat up, wincing as my spine cracked. “Alright, nature boy. As much as I’d love to stay and pretend we’re forest royalty, duty calls.”
Roman groaned and flopped back dramatically. “Why must the pack require our brilliance so early in the morning?”
“Because, Alpha, we’re their fearless leaders. And also because Ella mind-linked me and said there was an emergency patrol meeting in thirty minutes. And she used all caps, so you know she means business.”
Roman sighed but finally stood, stretching until his shirt rode up and made me forget what air was for a second.
He smirked at my not-so-subtle staring. “Eyes up here, babe.”
I rolled mine. “Don’t flatter yourself, I was admiring the sunrise.”
“Uh-huh.”
After packing up the remnants of our date night, we returned to the packhouse and parted briefly to change. I threw on a fitted black long-sleeve, jeans, and laced up my boots, tying my curls into a messy bun that said *I’m responsible but still hot,* which was basically my personal brand.
When I arrived at the central hall, the mood had shifted entirely. Laughter and lightness had been replaced by tension and whispered speculation.
Ella stood at the front with a map unfurled on the table, Rya beside her looking like she hadn’t slept.
“About time,” Ella muttered as Roman and I entered. “We’ve got a situation.”
Roman raised a brow. “Talk to me.”
Ella pointed to the map. “Last night, one of the northern patrols spotted a flare fired over the woods. Red. That’s not one of ours.”
My stomach tightened. Red flares weren’t used for accidents—they were warnings. Signals. Territory violations.
Rya crossed her arms, face grim. “They also found signs of movement. Scattered prints, heavy boot tracks, and a shredded messenger satchel. No scent. It’s like they covered their trail with some sort of cloaking powder.”
“Which means,” Ella added, “whoever it was knows how we track.”
Roman’s jaw clenched. “A rogue?”
“Too organized,” Rya said. “Feels like a group.”
I stepped forward. “Could it be a scout from another pack?”
“Possibly,” Rya said, “but that area borders neutral land. Could be mercenaries. Smugglers. Or worse—spies.”
I looked at Roman. “We need to sweep the border. Secure it. And make sure the pack knows nothing for now. Last thing we need is panic.”
He nodded, already in full Alpha mode. “I’ll take a team to the north. Rya, cover the east. Ella, I want two wolves stationed on every entry point. Iris—”
“Yes?”
“I need you at the council chamber this afternoon. You’ve got the best instinct when it comes to reading people. We’re interviewing a few new pack applicants, and I don’t want anyone slipping through the cracks.”
I blinked. “You want me doing interviews while you go chase potential infiltrators?”
Roman smirked. “You said duty calls.”
I groaned. “Fine. But if I die of boredom, I’m haunting you.”
He leaned in and whispered against my ear, “You haunting me sounds kind of hot, not gonna lie.”
I swatted his arm, trying not to smile.
After the meeting, the pack moved like a well-oiled machine—prepping for patrols, sealing outer borders, and reinforcing the communication lines. I was impressed by how seamlessly we all slipped back into wartime readiness.
By mid-afternoon, I was seated at the council room’s long table, sipping lukewarm tea while three nervous applicants stood in a line across from me.
The first one—a lanky guy named Mason—wouldn’t stop scratching his arm.
“So, uh,” he said, voice cracking, “I’m good at, like, lifting heavy stuff. And I once fought a bear. It was small, but still.”
I blinked. “You fought… a bear.”
“Yeah, it tried to steal my sandwich.”
I stared.
He stared.
“Next,” I muttered.
The second was a girl named Lila with bright orange hair and a piercing stare. She seemed competent until I asked her to recite the three core pack laws and she blinked like I’d asked her to explain quantum physics.
“Uh… don’t steal? Don’t bite people? And don’t be… a jerk?”
Roman, who’d snuck into the room midway through, choked on his water.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Alright. Thanks. We’ll call you if anything opens up in the circus.”
When the last candidate—a quiet boy with soft eyes and good manners—left, I slumped back in my chair and sighed.
Roman came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “Rough crowd?”
“They were like puppies raised on caffeine and chaos.”
He chuckled. “Good thing you’re not easily rattled.”
“I don’t know,” I murmured, sobering. “That flare worries me. We’re just barely finding peace again. I hate the idea of more danger lurking.”
Roman pulled a chair close and took my hand in his. “We’ll handle it. Whatever it is.”
I studied his face—the strong jaw, the familiar warmth in his eyes. “What if this is just the beginning?”
“Then we fight like we always do. Together.”
A knock at the door interrupted us.
Ella stepped in, her face pale. “Sorry to barge in, but… we found something.”
“What is it?”
She held up a tattered piece of black cloth.
“This was snagged on the eastern border fence,” she said. “And it has a sigil stitched into it.”
I stood, taking the cloth from her. Embroidered in dark thread was a symbol I hadn’t seen in years.
A serpent curled around a dagger.
Roman’s eyes darkened. “No.”
“You recognize it?” Ella asked.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s the mark of the Blackfang Syndicate.”
Rya, who had joined us silently, cursed. “They’re mercenaries. Assassins. They don’t just show up—they send warnings first.”
Roman turned to me, voice low. “That flare wasn’t a mistake.”
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