Kala stopped walking. She took a slow breath, pushing down the spike of irritation in her chest. When she turned around, her face was a mask of perfect, gentle compliance. A soft smile curved her lips.

She walked back toward the rocking chair, her steps measured and slow. When she reached the elder, she lowered her head slightly, showing the proper respect for a pack elder.

Morwenna's hand shot out. Her fingers were like dry twigs, cold and rough. They clamped around Kala's wrist with surprising strength.

A sharp sting shot up Kala's arm. The old woman's grip was iron, her nails digging into Kala's skin. Kala kept her smile in place, but her jaw tightened. She did not pull away.

Zev and the other cubs went dead silent. They held their breath, their eyes darting between the elder and the Mender.

"Go," Morwenna barked at the cubs. "To your cabins. Now."

The cubs scattered like leaves in a windstorm. Within seconds, the square was empty. The only sound was the pop and hiss of the bonfire.

Morwenna's thumb pressed against the pulse point on Kala's wrist. The old woman slid her finger back and forth, feeling the rhythm of Kala's life force.

"You have passed your maturity ritual," Morwenna said, her voice dropping to a severe whisper. "Yet you have marked no one. You take no partners."

Kala kept her voice soft. "I am focusing on my new hemostatic herbs, Elder. I have no time for other things."

Morwenna scoffed. Her cane struck the dirt again, hard. "Herbs do not breed the next generation. Herbs do not keep the pack strong."

The elder leaned forward. The firelight carved deep shadows into her wrinkled face. "A lone female without a strong family to protect her is the weakest prey when the deep winter comes," Morwenna warned, her voice low and threatening. "You are wasting your heat."

Kala frowned. A muscle twitched in her cheek. She hated this. She hated the way they talked about females like they were breeding stock or resources to be claimed.

"My father and my family protect me," Kala said, keeping her tone even.

Morwenna laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "Armond is the strongest Alpha in this pack, yes. But he cannot stand guard at your bed forever. He cannot scent away every male who circles you."

The old woman's grip tightened on Kala's wrist. The nails bit deeper, close to drawing blood. "The young unmated males are already restless. Your scent drives them mad. They pace outside your door like starving wolves."

A wave of nausea rolled through Kala's stomach. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to gag. The thought of those eyes watching her, sniffing the air for her scent, made her skin crawl.

"If you do not choose by the next Full Moon," Morwenna said, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "the Council of Elders will choose for you. We will assign your mates."

Kala's pupils contracted. Her heart dropped into her stomach like a stone. Forced matching. It was the one thing she swore she would never allow. It was slavery dressed up as tradition.

She forced herself to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She was a Mender. She had control. She would not panic.

Her mind raced, finding the only leverage she had. She looked at Morwenna's chest, noting the slight wheeze in the elder's breathing.

"Elder," Kala said, her voice shifting from submissive to professional in an instant. "Your breathing is labored. There is a rattle in your lungs. The chill of the night is aggravating your old illness."

Morwenna blinked. She hesitated, caught off guard. A tickle hit the back of her throat, and she coughed twice, a wet, hacking sound. Her grip on Kala's wrist loosened just a fraction.

That was enough.

Kala slid her wrist free and took a smooth step backward, putting distance between them. "Come to my clinic tomorrow morning," Kala instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I will have a fresh lung-relief potion ready for you. Do not skip it, or the coughing will worsen by the week's end."

Morwenna opened her mouth, but the authority in Kala's medical advice silenced her. The elder was old, and her body was failing. She could not afford to anger the only Mender who could ease her pain.

Kala bowed slightly. "Goodnight, Elder. I must prepare the herbs."

She turned and walked away from the bonfire. Her steps were quicker now, her long skirts swishing against her legs. The cold night air hit her back, and she realized a layer of sweat had soaked through her shirt.

She reached the main path of the settlement. She needed to get home, into the safety of her family's walls.

A sound stopped her in her tracks.

From the direction of the main gate, a heavy, mournful wolf howl ripped through the night. It was followed by the thunderous thud of heavy footsteps and the clatter of armor.

The hunting party was back.

Kala turned toward the main gate. The wind blowing from that direction carried the thick, coppery scent of blood and the damp smell of disturbed earth.

The heavy wooden gates groaned open, the wood grinding against the stone floor. A line of massive figures strode through the gap. They carried enormous carcasses over their shoulders, the fur of the prey dark and matted with blood.

Kala scanned the line. She found him instantly.

Armond Padilla walked at the front. He was a head taller than the warriors around him. His arms were bare, the muscles slick with the blue-purple blood of the magic beasts he had slain. Despite the gore, his stride was steady, radiating a suffocating, top-tier Alpha aura that made the guards at the gate lower their heads in submission.

Beside him walked Evan, Kala's younger brother. Evan was dragging a massive boar monster by its tusks, his face flushed with excitement and youth.

The knot in Kala's chest unraveled. A genuine smile touched her lips, softening her features. She picked up her skirts and hurried toward them.

Before she could take more than a few steps, a tall figure stepped out from the side of the hunting party. He moved with fluid grace, cutting directly into her path, blocking her view of her father.

Caleb Quinn.

He was one of the pack's youngest and most elite warriors. His chest was bare, his honey-colored skin gleaming with sweat. Shallow scratches from claws marked his torso, drawing attention to the hard lines of his muscles.

Caleb's dark eyes locked onto Kala. There was no subtlety in his gaze. It was a look of pure, predatory hunger.

"Kala," Caleb said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. He took a step closer, shrinking the distance between them. "I've been looking forward to seeing you."

Kala's mind flashed back to Morwenna's threat. Caleb Quinn was one of the males the elder had been pushing. He was considered a prime candidate.

Alarm bells rang in Kala's head. She took a half-step back, her body instinctively rejecting his proximity. She quickly rearranged her face into the polite, distant smile she used on difficult patients.

"Hard work today, Caleb," she said, her tone cool and professional. "That scratch on your arm looks deep. You should get it treated immediately."

Caleb's eyes lit up. He mistook her observation for concern. He leaned forward, eager to close the gap again. "It's nothing. You could check it for me-"

A low, dangerous snarl ripped through the air behind Caleb.

Armond had dropped his kill. He stood right behind Caleb, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the younger warrior. Armond's narrow, phoenix eyes were slits of pure ice, locked onto the back of Caleb's head. The killing intent rolling off him was so thick it felt hard to breathe.

Caleb went rigid. His body locked up, his muscles seizing under the crushing weight of the higher-ranking Alpha's aura. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His beast instinct screamed at him to submit, to bare his throat.

Evan threw down the boar and charged forward. He planted himself directly in front of Kala, his hackles raised like a defensive wolf pup. Kala watched his reaction, a brief thought crossing her mind: He really needs more training. He still can't even control his partial beast transformations when his emotions flare up.

"What do you think you're doing?" Evan yelled at Caleb, his voice cracking with teenage aggression. "Stay away from my sister!"

The temperature around them plummeted. The other warriors froze, their eyes darting nervously between the standoff. A fight between Alphas was bad; a fight involving Armond Padilla was a bloodbath.

Kala didn't hesitate. She stepped forward and slid her arm through Armond's thick, muscular one. She pressed herself against his side, leaning into his solid warmth.

"Father," Kala said, her voice soft and sweet, stripped of all the professional coolness she had used on Caleb. "I've been waiting for you. I'm so glad you're home safe."

The effect was instantaneous. The terrifying killing intent radiating from Armond evaporated like mist under the sun. His rigid muscles relaxed. He looked down at his daughter, his eyes softening from lethal ice to warm amber.

Armond pulled Kala into his side, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. He didn't even spare Caleb a glance. Without a word, he turned, guiding Kala and Evan away from the gate and toward their home.

Caleb stood alone in the dirt. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. He watched Kala's retreating back, his eyes darkening with a complex, obsessive shadow.

The noise of the hunting party faded behind them as they walked down the main path. Armond's hard features finally relaxed, the tension leaving his jaw.

Evan was still fuming. He kicked a stone hard, sending it skittering into the bushes. "I hate him," Evan muttered. "He always acts like he owns you."

Kala chuckled. She reached out and ruffled Evan's messy hair, messing it up even more. "You were very brave just now," she praised. "Like a real warrior."

Evan's pout vanished instantly. He puffed out his chest, and a fluffy tail popped out from under his shirt, wagging proudly behind him.

A booming voice echoed from up ahead. "Armond! Little Kala!"

Ridge Mason was walking toward them. He was a towering warrior who had just finished his patrol shift. He had a broad, easy smile on his face.

Ridge's eyes swept over Kala, pausing for a moment of obvious appreciation. "Looking more beautiful every day, Kala!" he laughed, his voice carrying no malice, only cheerful boldness. "No wonder the males are lining up to be your mates!"

He turned his grin on Armond. "Hey, Armond! When are you going to pick a few strong ones for her? You can't keep her locked up forever!"

The air stopped moving.

Armond stopped walking. The warmth that had just returned to his face vanished, replaced by a mask of absolute, chilling fury. His eyes became blades of ice, pinning Ridge to the spot.

A suffocating wave of pure, heavy Alpha pressure erupted from Armond, pressing down like an invisible boulder. He didn't unleash his killing intent this time, but the sheer weight of his aura was enough to choke the air out of the surrounding space.

Ridge's smile froze. Sweat poured down his temples, soaking his collar in seconds. His legs began to shake, his knees threatening to buckle. He had touched the most sensitive nerve of the Padilla family. Everyone in the pack knew Armond was intensely protective of his daughter, but no one realized that even a harmless, well-meaning joke could ignite such a terrifying reaction from the lion.

Armond took a step forward. His voice was a low, deadly rumble that sounded like it came from the depths of a grave. "Shut your mouth."

"My daughter," Armond growled, "does not need any filthy male stink on her."

Armond's fist rose. A faint red glow began to pulse around his knuckles-the sign of his spatial ability charging up. He was about to lose control.

Kala moved. She didn't try to grab his arm; she jumped onto his back. She wrapped her arms tightly around his thick neck, pressing her cheek against his ear.

"I'm hungry," Kala whined, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "I want the roasted meat only you can make. Please, Father? I'm starving."

The red glow around Armond's fist flickered and died. The scent of his daughter-mint and safety-and the feeling of her soft arms around him acted like a bucket of water on the fire of his rage.

He slowly lowered his fist. He threw one last, murderous glare at Ridge. It was a look that promised a slow death if they ever crossed paths again.

Ridge scrambled away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to escape.

Armond turned his head, his face transforming instantly. He smiled warmly at Kala, patting her hands where they clasped his shoulder. "Of course, my little Mender. Let's go home right now."

Evan stared at his father, his jaw hanging open. He couldn't believe the speed of the change. One second a monster, the next a doting father.

They walked the rest of the way in peace. Armond was already mentally executing every male who had ever looked at Kala.

They rounded the final bend. Their large, two-story cabin came into view. Warm light glowed from the windows.

Kala's smile vanished.

Armond let out a low, dangerous growl from his throat. Beside him, Evan didn't hesitate this time. He yanked the bone knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

Standing in the shadows of their front porch was a tall figure.

Caleb Quinn stood there, holding a bouquet of rare, glowing medicinal herbs. He was waiting for them, silent and uninvited, like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.