Stone’s Perspective

The night pressed heavy against Stone’s pelt as he tore through the forest. Moonlight spilled across the canopy, fragmenting into shards of silver that slashed the ground with broken light. His paws thundered against the earth, kicking up soil and pine needles, while thorny branches clawed at his fur in their desperate attempt to slow him. Still, he pressed forward, muscles straining, heart pounding in rhythm with the primal beat of the hunt.

But unease churned in his gut, an instinct older than reason. Something in the forest felt wrong.

The familiar perfume of pine and damp moss faded, smothered by a foreign odor—cold, metallic, and ancient. The hair along his spine rose, hackles bristling. He slowed, nostrils flaring, tasting the air. The forest itself seemed to recoil.

She was here.

“Alpha.” The voice of Alistair struck through the pack link, sharp and urgent. “We’re not alone.”

Stone didn’t need the warning. The moment Alistair spoke, a flicker of movement teased his peripheral vision. He whipped his head toward it just in time to glimpse a shadow weaving between the trees, too swift, too graceful to belong to any ordinary human.

Carina.

Her auburn hair glinted like embers amid the gloom, a cruel mockery of fire refusing to die. For a heartbeat, Stone faltered. Carina was supposed to be gone—dead, buried in the echoes of a blood-soaked past. Or, at the very least, in hiding. But now she surfaced once again, like rot creeping back into a wound thought healed.

“Positions!” Stone’s voice thundered across the mental link, authority brooking no argument. “Hadrianus won’t trail far behind her. Nor Jerrold. We cannot allow even the slightest mistake.”

His throat vibrated with a low growl. Carina never traveled without her monstrous companions—Jerrold, her loyal lapdog, and Hadrianus, her ancient and twisted lover. Together they had carved scars into Stone’s past, none deeper than the night they’d torn his family from him.

The air thickened, each breath tasting of old blood and bitter smoke. The stench of Hadrianus mingled with Carina’s own scent, threaded with Jerrold’s eager hunger.

And then, laughter.

High, chilling, mocking. It slithered through the branches, echoing from everywhere and nowhere, seeping into his bones.

“I remember the night you died.”

Her voice slithered from above, dripping honey and venom in equal measure. “The night I ended you.”

Stone’s head snapped upward. Through the tangled branches, her silhouette perched like a predator. She was all sharp angles and feral beauty—fangs glinting faintly, cheekbones cut like blades, her lithe frame crouched with feline grace. A vulture biding her time.

“You’ll never stop grieving her, will you?” Carina purred, words winding through the night like smoke. “Your precious Luna. And your boy. Their tiny necks so easy to sever. Do they still cry in your dreams?”

A savage growl tore from Stone’s chest, reverberating through the earth. “Come down and say that to my face.”

Her laughter drifted closer, the branch above him creaking as she prowled barefoot across it with unsettling ease.

“I remember every moment,” she taunted. “It feels like yesterday. A century may have passed, but time hasn’t dimmed the memory for me.”

Her tone softened into a whisper sharp enough to cut flesh. “Tell me, Sten—does your soul still howl for her? Does it ache when you remember that you couldn’t save your mate… or your pup?”

Stone’s claws shredded the bark beneath him, fury rising like wildfire. The names of his dead were daggers in her mouth. Memories he fought daily to master surged forward: the warmth of his mate’s smile, the melody of his son’s laughter, both extinguished in a single crimson night.

“You took them from me,” he snarled, every word trembling with restrained violence. “But I’m still standing.”

Carina leaned down, her voice twisting with delight. “And what a tragedy that is. You should’ve rotted in the ground with them.”

He did not move. Did not blink. He would not allow her to see him bend.

“I remember the blood,” she hissed, eyes alight with sadistic joy. “Her screams. His heartbeat slowing. Do you?”

His chest rose with measured breaths, his rage a storm forced into stillness. “I remember everything,” he answered coldly. “And I will carve the memory of your death into history.”

Her smile widened, predatory and gleaming. “Such fire. Always so stubborn. It’s what I liked about you once. But flames die out, Sten. And when yours does—”

“Tell me something, Carina.” His voice dropped into a lethal growl, low and controlled. “How does it feel to run for a hundred years like the coward you are?”

Her eyes narrowed, but he pressed on, each word soaked in venom. “How does it feel to know that every time we cross paths, you edge closer to your end?”

She laughed, but the sound cracked, lacking its former sharpness.

“Oh, Sten,” she whispered mockingly, though her poise wavered. “You speak of endings, but I am your beginning. The root of every misery. I killed you once, and I will do it again. This time, I’ll leave nothing behind to mourn.”

Stone’s vision flared red. Rage surged through him like a tidal wave. With a roar that shook the forest, he lunged at the tree.

The lowest branch snapped beneath his weight, splintering in his claws. Bark tore away as he scaled upward with relentless force, eyes fixed on her shadow.

Carina vaulted effortlessly to another tree, her laugh trailing like a phantom as she danced from limb to limb, always one step beyond his reach. She had always been smoke slipping through his grasp.

But tonight, he swore, would be different.

“Always behind, Sten?” Her mocking voice floated between the treetops, cruel and melodic. “What a shame. No matter how hard you chase me, you will never reclaim what I took.”

With a rustle of leaves, she vanished into the shadows, leaving only her taunt behind.

Stone dropped to the ground, landing heavily, claws biting into soil. He broke into pursuit, his ears straining, following the subtle disturbances she left behind. Though she moved soundlessly, the forest betrayed her—branches rustled, twigs snapped, pine needles tumbled in her wake, carrying their sharp scent through the air.

Carina’s scent was faint, nearly masked, her essence camouflaged by the forest’s natural odors. But Stone had hunted her for too long to be fooled. The spicy tang of pine falling to earth was his beacon.

He pressed harder, his body a blur as he followed the path she carved through the night. She darted right, then feinted left, swift as lightning. Stone’s muscles coiled, prepared for the inevitable clash.

This hunt was far from over.