Aurelia's POV
We buried the farmer at dawn.
There were no speeches. No ceremony. Just the quiet work of hands moving together, wolves who knew grief too well to dress it up. Kaia stood beside me the entire time, her jaw set, eyes hollow and burning all at once. When the earth was finally smoothed over, she pressed her palm to the mound and whispered something I couldn't hear.
I didn't ask.
The child was still gone.
That absence hung over the pack like a wound that refused to clot. Every conversation bent back to it. Every silence carried his name. Nightfall had taken more than a life this time—they'd taken innocence, leverage, and time.
Talon gathered us near the old watch ridge before the sun fully cleared the trees. He spread a rough map across a stone, anchoring it with a knife.
"Jarek won't keep the child close," he said. "He wants mobility. He wants options."
"And he wants her to come to him," Raffyn added, voice tight. "Alone, if possible."
Lucien's gaze flicked to me. "Which won't happen."
"It won't," I agreed. "But we can make him think it might."
Silvara studied me carefully. "Say more."
I looked at the map, at the lines Talon had drawn—paths, rivers, old ruins the pack avoided because they felt wrong even before Nightfall rose. The magic inside me stirred, responding to places of pressure and absence.
"He's been testing reactions," I said. "When I stayed, he struck the pack. When I moved, he took a child. He's measuring how far I'll go."
"And how far will you go?" Raffyn asked.
I met his eyes. "Far enough to force him to choose."
Talon nodded slowly. "A controlled leak."
"Yes," I said. "We give him a version of me. Not the truth—just enough to bait him into overextending."
Lucien stiffened. "You're not bait."
"I'm not prey," I corrected. "There's a difference."
Silvara's lips curved faintly. "She's right. Jarek believes power reveals itself under pressure. Let's give him pressure he didn't plan for."
Kaia stepped forward, fists clenched. "And the child?"
"We get him back," I said. "Alive."
The promise settled heavily in the air.
By midday, the pack moved with purpose. Not panic—purpose. Scouts were repositioned. Routes changed. Fires banked low. The kind of preparation that didn't shout war but knew it was coming.
I spent the afternoon with Silvara at the edge of the river, learning how to narrow my awareness. Not to shut it down—just to focus it. She had me practice listening for specific things: fear, deceit, hunger. The magic responded differently to each, subtle shifts that felt like learning a new language.
"Jarek's signature is control," she said. "He enjoys the moment people realize they've lost it."
"What does mine feel like?" I asked.
She considered it. "Choice."
That night, we moved again—quietly, deliberately. Talon chose a ruined outpost near the old quarry, a place Nightfall scouts had been seen before. We didn't hide our passage as carefully this time. We left just enough trace to be noticed.
Lucien stayed close, his presence steadying without crowding. Raffyn watched the treeline like he expected it to blink first. Kaia walked beside me, silent but resolute.
"He'll come," she said softly.
"Yes," I replied. "But not how he thinks."
The quarry opened up ahead of us, a bowl of shadow and stone. The air felt tight there, like it remembered violence. We took positions quickly, slipping into the rhythm Talon set without needing to speak.
I stepped into the open.
Not recklessly. Not alone.
But visible.
The magic stirred, a low hum beneath my skin—not flaring, not hiding. Present.
Minutes passed.
Then the pressure shifted.
I felt him—not as a voice, not as a force, but as attention locking onto mine. Curious. Amused.
"Careful," Silvara murmured from the shadows. "He's listening."
Good.
I lifted my chin and let the magic rise just enough to be unmistakable.
"I know you're there," I said into the dark. "If you want me—stop taking pieces and come speak."
The quarry held its breath.
Somewhere beyond the rim, something smiled.
And for the first time since this began, I felt it clearly—
Jarek wasn't hunting anymore.
He was circling.