Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

DAKOTA

D akota's boots scrunched on the gravel as she ambled across the expanse of the ranch, the weight of Landon's revelations sitting heavy on her shoulders like a leaden shawl. The early morning sun spilled across the undulating landscape, casting long shadows that seemed to whisper secrets, secrets that now churned within her mind with a fervor she couldn't quell.

She paused by the weather-worn fence that corralled the horses, her eyes tracing the horizon where the earth kissed the sky. It was there, amidst the tranquil beauty of Copper Canyon, that the truth gnawed at her—the people around her weren't just rugged ranch hands, they were wolf-shifters, guardians of an ancient legacy that somehow entwined with her own.

"Your grandfather," Landon had told her with his intense eyes that seemed to look right through her, "I believe he must have known what we are. There's a reason he sent you here." Those words echoed in her head, as mysterious and potent as a spell.

"Hey, Dakota!" A friendly voice jolted her from her thoughts, but she merely nodded in response, her gaze not leaving the horizon. She felt it then, the subtle shift in the air, the electric charge that foretold a storm brewing in the distance—both literal and metaphorical.

She made her way down to the barn, the scent of hay, leather and packed earth enveloping her. The routine tasks she performed usually brought a kind of grounding and comfort, but today each flake of hay thrown, each scoop of feed into the troughs, was tinged with the surreal knowledge of the pack's true nature. They worked beside her, their movements fluid and instinctive, yet Dakota sensed a ripple of disquiet beneath the surface of their calm.

The simplicity of pack life, ranch life, was so honest and straightforward. But now, it felt like a thin veneer over a complicated web of loyalty and suspicion. As a human, she represented an anomaly, a disruption to the equilibrium established over generations. And she couldn't help wondering if her presence stirred something more than mere distrust—perhaps fear of the unknown, or the threat of exposure.

She felt his presence before he spoke. "Everything all right?" Landon's voice, smooth as the slide of silk over skin, broke through the hum of activity.

"Fine. Just sometimes I feel like some people don’t want me here. God does that sound whiny or what?"

He came up behind her, kissing her shoulder. "You don’t sound whiny to me. Just give them time. They'll come around," he assured her, but Dakota wasn't convinced. She needed answers, not platitudes.

"Time might not be enough," she murmured, her hands working mechanically. "I need to understand why my grandfather... Why me? What did he mean?"

Landon leaned against the stable door. "Sometimes the past holds clues to our destiny and sometimes it just raises more questions. Maybe he left something for you to find."

"Maybe," Dakota conceded with a sigh, her mind drifting to the old wooden chest full of her grandfather's belongings back in the basement in her grandfather’s house—the home she’d left behind. The same basement in the same house where she was pretty sure her ex-fiancé still lived. Could it still be there? Could the key to everything lie nestled among moth-eaten letters and faded photographs?

Landon watched her, a silent sentinel whose presence both comforted and confounded her. He offered no easy solutions, only the promise of support as she navigated this labyrinth of heritage and identity.

As she left the stables, the clouds gathered overhead, reflecting her inner turmoil. Yet amidst the distant, rolling thunder, Dakota felt something spark inside her—she would unravel the mysteries of her bloodline and claim her place in this world of shadows and whispers, of wolves and men.

Dakota couldn’t shake the feeling that there were those who were watching her with silent judgment as she worked through her chores on the ranch, the crisp morning air doing nothing to ease the tension that knotted her shoulders. The pack moved through their daily tasks with a kind of effortless grace that was both captivating and alienating. Some members were friendly, nodding in her direction, some merely acknowledged her presence out of respect for Landon, while others averted their eyes, their bodies rigid with distrust.

As she approached the stables, she caught the tail end of a hushed conversation, the words ‘human’ and ‘danger’ floating towards her like autumn leaves carried on the wind. She hesitated, a frown creasing her brow, before continuing on. Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed down the flanks of a chestnut mare, the animal's warm breath ghosting across her skin. Dakota sought solace in the simple chore, but the mare's uneasy shifting under her touch mirrored her own restlessness.

"Hey, there," a voice called out from the entrance, startling her.

She turned to find Briar leaning against the doorframe, the sunlight casting a halo around her loose waves of hair. The woman's smile was a balm to Dakota's frayed nerves.

"Mind if I join you?" Briar asked, her tone gentle.

"Please," Dakota replied, grateful for the company.

As they worked side by side, Dakota's gaze often strayed to Briar, taking in the subtle shifts of her expression. There was a serenity about her, a sense of belonging that Dakota envied.

"Does it ever get easier?" Dakota finally ventured, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Briar paused, her hands stilling on the mane of the horse. "Being the outsider, you mean?"

"Yeah." Dakota sighed, dropping the brush into the bucket and leaning against the stable wall. "It's just... some of them look at me like I'm a riddle they can't solve—or don't want to."

"Change is always hard for people, more so for shifters as there is an element of trust involved," Briar acknowledged, her eyes reflecting understanding.

Dakota chewed on her lower lip, feeling the sting of isolation despite Briar's empathetic words. "Landon's family has been so welcoming, and so have you and Etta. But the others..."

"Give them time." Briar offered a small smile, though her eyes betrayed a hint of concern. "They're protective of what we have here. It's not personal, Dakota. They just need to see you for who you are."

"Which is what, exactly?" Dakota asked, a rueful chuckle escaping her lips. "I don't even know where I fit in all this."

"Let's take a walk," Briar suggested, tilting her head towards the garden that close to the ranch house.

The garden was Briar's sanctuary, a lush patchwork of colors and scents that swirled around them as they meandered along the stone path. Dakota breathed in the fragrance of blooming sage and lavender, allowing the tranquility of the space to seep into her bones.

"I think your grandfather might have sent you here for a reason," Briar said as they settled onto a wrought-iron bench nestled amongst the flowers.

“I don’t know that he sent me. All he said was go east to the wolves.”

Briar grinned. "Maybe he saw something in you, a potential that even you don't realize yet."

"Potential?" Dakota echoed, her heart racing with the possibility. "To become like you?"

"Perhaps," Briar mused, her gaze distant as if glimpsing a world beyond Dakota's understanding. "Or maybe to bridge our worlds in a way no one else can or maybe something else altogether."

A shiver ran down Dakota's spine, the magic of the place and the cryptic suggestion weaving a spell around her. She glanced up at the sky, the once clear blue now streaked with clouds, a portent of the unknown journey ahead.

"Looks like a storm's coming," Dakota murmured, the first drops of rain beginning to fall, each one a cold kiss upon her skin.

"Storms can be cleansing," Briar replied, her voice laced with a wisdom that seemed as old as the earth itself. "They wash away the old to make way for the new."

A clap of thunder punctuated her words, and Dakota knew that change was indeed on the horizon. Whatever lay ahead, she was no longer alone; she had allies in Etta, Briar, and the Savage brothers. Perhaps in time, the rest of the pack would accept her as well. For now, that would have to be enough.

Raindrops spattered against the leaves, ground, and fountain of the garden, the sound a soft staccato accompanying Dakota's uneven breath. The storm had broken loose from its celestial chains, and with it, the atmosphere in Briar's garden thickened with a heady mix of petrichor and unease.

"Rejection stings," Briar murmured, her voice a soothing balm to Dakota's fraying nerves. "They judged me once, as they do you now. Wolves trust their noses and instincts before they trust words." She brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, her fingers leaving a trail of shimmering air, a reminder of her unique heritage.

"Instincts," Dakota repeated, the term resonating within her like a struck chord. "Landon seems to... understand me on a level I can't explain."

"Ah, Landon," Briar said, a knowing smile lighting up her features. "He's always been perceptive, even for one of us. He sees the heart of things—and he sees you."

Dakota wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the chill of the rain seep through her clothing. "And what about being claimed? What does it mean to belong to a pack... to be a wolf?"

"Being claimed," Briar began, pausing thoughtfully, "it's more than a bond. It's a merging of souls, an innate understanding that runs deeper than blood." Her eyes gleamed with a fierce inner light, reflecting a truth born from experience.

"Can humans..." Dakota hesitated, unsure how to phrase her curiosity without revealing too much of the turmoil within.

"Be claimed?" Briar finished for her. "Yes, but it's rare and precious. A gift not given lightly."

"Gift," Dakota whispered, tasting the word. A flicker of memory sparked within her—the tales her grandfather used to tell, full of creatures and worlds beyond human ken. "I think my grandfather knew about wolf-shifters. I never had a clue until now."

"Interesting." Interest piqued, Briar leaned closer, the scent of moss and earth emanating from her skin. "He must have had reasons for his cryptic message. If he knew of our kind or had some connection, or perhaps knew someone who did."

"Connection," Dakota echoed, feeling the pieces of her life shifting, seeking alignment. Her grandfather's cryptic messages, his insistence on her strength—could it all have been leading her here?

"Your lineage might hold answers," Briar suggested, her gaze piercing through the veil of rain, reaching into Dakota's very soul. "There are secrets in every family, some more frightening or shameful than others."

Secrets... Dakota felt them weighing on her spirit, the unknown variables of her existence suddenly cast in sharp relief by the tempest raging around them. Briar had touched on a truth that Dakota could no longer ignore.

"Maybe so," Dakota conceded, her voice barely above the thrumming of the rain. The storm had soaked them both, but in its wake, there was a cleansing clarity.

"Come," Briar said as she stood, offering a hand to help Dakota rise from the wet bench. "Let's find shelter and warmth. Storms are good for revelation, but they're also reminders to seek refuge together."

Accepting the hand, Dakota allowed herself to be led back towards the ranch house.

That night after her shift at the diner, Dakota returned to the ranch house and headed up to her room. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a silver glow over the wooden floorboards. The world outside was hushed, the nocturnal chorus of crickets and the distant howl of a coyote the only sounds that pierced the silence.

"Maybe I should go back home," Dakota murmured to herself, her voice barely louder than a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the night's tranquility. She brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Could the answers really lie in my past?"

Her eyes, vibrant even in the dim light, reflected a turmoil that matched the storm they'd weathered. She considered tracing her lineage, her DNA, anything that might unravel the labyrinth of her heritage. The possibility that her grandfather had concealed such an integral part of their family history gnawed at her with a relentless persistence.

"Would it change anything?" she pondered aloud, the question hanging in the air, unanswered.

Dakota wrapped her arms around herself, the chill of the room seeping into her bones. She felt drawn to the warmth of the fireplace downstairs, to the company of those who might offer insight—or at least distraction. With a determined exhale, she slipped out of her room and descended the staircase, each step creaking softly underfoot.

The dining room was empty, but the common sitting room across the foyer held Landon and his brothers gathered around the fire, their conversations a low hum that enveloped the space with a sense of camaraderie. Briar sat among them, her presence a soothing balm despite the underlying tension that Dakota could sense even here.

"Discussing the latest cattle shipment?" Dakota asked, approaching them with feigned casualness.

"Among other things," Landon replied, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

"Actually," Briar interjected, her voice cutting through the din with ease, "we were just getting to something you might find interesting, Dakota."

All eyes turned toward her, a mix of curiosity and caution reflected in their stares. Dakota took a seat, feeling their attention settle on her like a tangible force.

"Go on," Dakota said, nodding at Briar, encouraging her to continue.

Briar's fingers traced the rim of her glass, the motion deliberate. "Dakota's considering delving into her past, seeking connection to our kind through her lineage. Perhaps her grandfather's secrets hold more than we know."

Landon's expression shifted, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a solemnity that made Dakota's pulse race. His brothers leaned in, interest piqued.

"Digging up the past can be dangerous," Colt cautioned, a frown creasing his brow.

"Or it could be enlightening," Briar countered, her eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

"An outsider's path intertwining with our own?" Bryce mused, his tone laced with skepticism.

"Yet, Dakota is no ordinary outsider," Landon added, his voice steady. "If there are answers to be found, we owe it to her—and to ourselves—to uncover them."

Dakota's throat tightened with emotion. In Landon's words, she heard not just agreement but a vow. He understood her need for discovery, the yearning to piece together the fragments of her identity.

"Thank you," she breathed out, gratitude warming her from within.

Landon watched her. "I've been thinking," he began, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife through fog. "Maybe it's time you paid a visit to your grandfather's house. There could be something there, some clue that we're missing."

“I left my grandfather’s house when I left my ex. The things I thought were really important, I gathered together in an old military trunk and put it down in the basement. Or at least that’s where I left it. It may be gone by now.”

“I don’t think you should let him know you’re interested in anything you left behind. I think you’re going to have to see for yourself.”

The suggestion hung in the air; Dakota felt their expressions regarding her with a range from wary curiosity to guarded anticipation.

"Are you saying... you think I should go back?" Dakota asked, her heart thrumming in her chest.

Landon nodded, his features inscrutable yet edged with an intensity that made her shiver. "Yes. It's a risk, but there might be answers there. Things your grandfather left behind that could explain why he sent you east to the wolves… to us."

"Could be dangerous, though," Bryce interjected, the words tinted with caution. Dakota's skin prickled with the sensation that they were skirting around darker truths, secrets that were woven into the very fabric of the pack's existence.

"Life is dangerous," Landon replied with a wry twist of his lips, the undercurrent of humor doing little to dispel the tension. "But Dakota isn't alone. I'll make sure she's protected."

Dakota absorbed his words, the promise of safety contained within them. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that this journey would unearth more than dusty heirlooms and yellowed letters. Her grandfather's connection to the wolf-shifters, the reason he had pointed her to east to Copper Canyon—it was a puzzle missing vital pieces, and deep down, she feared what completing the picture might reveal.

"All right. I'll go," Dakota said, her decision firming with every pounding heartbeat. She met Landon's gaze across the table, finding an ally in his unwavering stare. "I need to know the truth about my past... about all of this."

"Then it's settled," Landon said, his voice low and resonant. "We start planning tonight."

As they began to talk about what might be entailed, Dakota's senses sharpened. The scent of rain wafted in from the open window, the night outside beckoning with its untold stories. She felt the pull of the unknown, the call of fate that twisted and coiled like the mountain roads leading back to her grandfather's house.