5. Atticus

5

ATTICUS

T he forest was a blur of dark silhouettes as I raced toward the security of my den. What the fuck had I just done? Had I been wise to attend that party? Did my feet carry me away from my own questionable decisions swiftly enough? Probably not.

The night air was cool against my heated skin, which usually calmed my restless spirit. But not tonight. Tonight, it was laced with questions that nipped at my heels, urging me to run faster, to flee from my stupid choices.

I’d gone to the gathering unseen, shrouded in the comforting embrace of darkness. My shadow manipulation wasn’t a mere skill; it was a preternatural gift, a dance with the night itself. It allowed me to slip through the throngs of shifters unnoticed, to be nothing more than a whisper in their midst. Such gifts were a double-edged sword. Many, especially those in the packs, viewed them with fear and trepidation.

And there, among the revelry and unsuspecting people, I found Aria.

The telepathic connection between us had sparked so easily, and as powerful as a live wire. It was a rarity to find anyone whose mind touched mine with such clarity and intensity. As wolves, it was easy to speak to another in the same form. In our human skin, connections could be built with packmates over time that allowed the same type of communication, but what had happened tonight was unprecedented. Through the crowd of thoughts and emotions swirling around the room, Aria’s had stood out and drawn me in, even though I knew I should have stayed away.

The dense underbrush brushed against my skin as I replayed the moment our minds had met. The sensation had been electric, a current that surged through me with a rush I’d never experienced before. Her surprise had mirrored my own. Such a connection could not be easily dismissed. It was a profound and intimate encounter.

Why had I revealed myself to her? Why had I allowed our minds to intertwine? I could have remained a phantom, a figment of the night.

Nevertheless, there was an alluring quality about Aria, an element that tempted me to forsake the cloak of obscurity I had relied on for so long. What had I done? If she’d exposed me, told the secrets of my manipulation of the shadows to her father, to her pack... it wasn’t just my life in danger, but those attached to me. Not a pack, no, but shifters who had earned my trust. Shifters I had chosen to love and respect.

I skidded to a halt at the mouth of my den, chest heaving and breath forming ghostly plumes in the cold air.

My heart pounded as I burst through the entrance of the den. The calm familiarity of my surroundings failed to ease my troubled state. The reluctance to share my secrets had always been my armor, and now it was as if I had willingly exposed my weakest point to her—Aria, the alpha’s daughter, whose intentions were as enigmatic as the shifting shadows I commanded.

Joren stared at me, his presence a steady, unwavering flame. Without question, he held out a drink, the amber liquid catching the faint light from the lanterns dotting the walls of the communal space.

“You look like you’re about to tear down the place with your bare hands,” he said. “You need to calm yourself.”

Hale stood behind him, quiet understanding on his face. They knew me—the real me—and yet, here I was, questioning whether I had just put them all in jeopardy with a single act of misplaced trust.

Silently, I took the glass and drained it. The liquid burned a trail down my throat, stoking the internal fire rather than quenching it. But I allowed the warmth to spread, letting it dull the sharp edges of my anxiety. With a nod to my brothers-in-arms and without any explanation, I retreated to my personal quarters.

The tattoos across my body pulsed with the memory of each moment they represented—a wolf, mid-howl; a chain fractured by strength and will; a forest silhouette shrouded in mystery. All interconnected, they told tales of pain and freedom, of a life lived on the fringes where trust was a currency I could scarcely afford.

I lay down on the bed, the sheets cool against my heated skin. Sleep beckoned, its gentle whispers promising refuge from the labyrinth of my own creation. Yet, when I closed my eyes, Aria’s image played through my mind.

The darkness in my den cocooned me as I drifted into the realm of dreams. A soft rustle of leaves whispered through the subconscious haze, beckoning me to a time when trust was not a luxury but a given. A lifetime before the jagged edges of betrayal had sculpted me.

In the dream, I was younger, less marked by the scars of my life. Around me, my pack—my former pack—moved with fluid grace, their forms blurring, changing seamlessly from man and beast as we sparred under the canopy of trees. Laughter mingled with the sounds of exertion, a symphony of camaraderie that now seemed a distant echo.

I locked arms with a fellow warrior, our muscles straining, the heat and sweat pouring off our bodies. “Come on, Atticus,” he goaded, his eyes alight with challenge. “Show me what you’ve got.”

With a deft move born of years honing my craft, I swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing into a scattered layer of crisp fall leaves. My victory was met with good-natured jeers and applause, affirming my place among them—respected, integral, and one with the pack.

“Never better, brother,” I laughed, offering a hand to help him up, basking in our pack bond. It was a time of harmony, when every member was an integral part of our existence.

But even as the dream painted this idyllic portrait, shadows lingered on the fringes of my consciousness, a prelude to the storm that would tear it all apart. The unity was fleeting, the laughter hollow, a harbinger of the pain that would soon sear itself into my very soul.

The forest surrounding us seemed to darken, the lively greens now muted shades that whispered of treachery. I stood alone, my brothers-in-arms just phantoms in the fog of memory. The pack bond, once thought to be invincible, was as fragile and susceptible to the gentlest caress of the wind.

The thud of paws against the ground was so familiar, it was nearly a muscle memory, a cadence that matched the thrumming pulse of nature. We were a flurry of motion under the canopy, shadows streaking through the twilight. The hunt was on, and with it came the surge of adrenaline that made my wolf sing.

“To the left.”

I veered, muscles coiling and uncoiling like steel springs as I spotted the deer. A stag, a majestic creature of muscle and sinew. I could hear its heartbeat, a rapid drumming that echoed my own. With a burst of speed, I closed the gap, my pack brothers and sisters fanning out around me in a lethal, instinctual dance.

The kill was clean, and as the warm blood coated my muzzle, a snarl interrupted our victory.

“Atticus, you glory-hogging cur!” The voice belonged to Kieran, younger than me by two winters but eager to make his mark.

I shifted into my human form and straightened to my full height, my gaze locking on eyes that glittered not with pride for the pack’s success, but with the green sheen of jealousy. “The pack hunts as one,” I reminded him, my tone steady, unfazed by his accusation.

“Then why is it always you at the lead? Why is it your fangs that sink first into the prey?” His hackles rose, and the pack’s unity unraveled around the edges.

“Because he’s our best hunter!” someone shouted, but Kieran’s snarl drowned out the support.

“Or perhaps he’s just the best at leading everyone astray,” Kieran remarked, his words laced with venom. “We’re no longer in the safety of our own borders.”

“Pack law prohibits crossing territories without a challenge,” I countered. “We must remain within our lands.”

“Then explain this.” Kieran pointed towards a tree, its bark bearing the unmistakable scent of a rival pack, the boundary much closer than any of us had realized. “In your quest for victory, you and your shadows led us into rival territory.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, all traces of camaraderie gone. I searched the faces of my pack, seeking some semblance of trust, but encountered only the seeds of doubt sown by Kieran’s reckless jealousy.

“An honest mistake,” I admitted.

But the damage was done. The elders, their fur grayed with age and wisdom, exchanged uneasy glances. Their authority was absolute, and in their eyes, the reflection of a judgment yet to be spoken.

“Atticus has never led us astray before,” another protested, but fear had crept into their tone, a treacherous whisper insinuating that perhaps, just perhaps, the accusations against me held merit.

Kieran’s chest swelled with triumph, his smile a slash of white against the darkening sky. He had played his hand well, tapping into the undercurrent of unease that came when power rested in the paws of one wolf.

“Possibly,” the eldest elder said, “but to ignore such a claim would be to invite chaos. We must consider...”

Their words became a distant murmur as I looked at the family I had known since my first breath. Here, I found myself on the precipice of exile, betrayed by the very bonds I had assumed were unbreakable.

I had assumed people could see past their narrow-minded beliefs of shifters with magical talents, that those who mattered could see the heart of me and know there was nothing to fear. I was the same Atticus, just with a little extra. It was a hard lesson learned, and it taught me to be cautious with my trust.

The verdict was as swift as it was unforgiving, each word tearing at my soul. I stood before them—my pack, my family, the collective center of my world. Their gazes pierced me with a finality that left no room for pleas or protests.

My father’s voice rang out with an authority that hid his inner turmoil, if he had any. “You have been found guilty of leading the pack into rival territory. Such recklessness endangers us all. We cannot overlook this transgression.”

I stared at his face, searching for any flicker of doubt, any trace of the bond we might have once shared. But he averted his eyes. His fear of the power coursing through my veins had eclipsed any love he once had for his son.

“Father, please...” I choked out, the desperation making my throat constrict, the plea unfamiliar even to my own ears. Fear had a scent, and as it clung to me, it seemed to repel those I loved most.

“Your gifts have always set you apart,” my father said with a tremor of sorrow. “But they also pose a threat, one that threatens to disrupt the harmony of our pack.”

Fighting against the overwhelming tide of negative emotions that swept through the ranks was futile. Whispers in the pack about my relationship with the shadows had been eroding their trust in me for some time. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father had been the source of the rumors—he’d always feared me—and this made his decision easier. The unity of the pack was paramount above all else, even the truth. He had the power to banish me solely on someone else’s word, making him the hero in their eyes.

As the elders agreed, I fell apart, leaving me exposed and alone against the elements of judgment.

“You are hereby exiled,” my father concluded, his tone carrying the finality of a guillotine.

I looked around one last time, committing every face to memory. The faces of those who had raised me, trained me, fought beside me. Now they were the ones banishing me. So much for loyalty.

Without another word, I turned my back on them, on everything I’d ever known. Each step away from the pack, from the land that had held my every dream and achievement, weighed heavier than the last. I shifted, my paws sinking into the soft soil, reluctant to break their bond with the sacred earth.

As I crossed the threshold of the territory, the familiar scents and sounds that once heralded safety now reeked of rejection. I was a lone figure against the expanse of wilderness.

With each stride into the uncharted, my resolve hardened me, forging a rogue from the ashes of abandonment. They would fear me. For in their fear, they created what they sought to destroy—a wolf free of pack law, who could forge his own path.

The dream lingered, a veil draped over my consciousness as I woke. I carried the invisible scars of those broken bonds, the echoes of lost kinship howling in the chambers of my soul. My chosen family had often reminded me that the pack’s dread of my gifts and the authority that coursed through my veins was not my fault.

“They wanted you out because they didn’t understand and couldn’t exert control over you,” Lyza had once said.

Restlessness itched beneath my skin, an incessant urge that propelled me from the comfort of my quarters and out into the forest. I ran along the perimeter of the unclaimed lands, leaves whispering as I passed. The magic here was different, vibrant, as if it was almost waiting to exhale a breath it had been holding for centuries.

I searched for answers in the woods, but the forest held its tongue, offering only murmurs on the wind. Anticipation threaded through the woods, a foreshadowing of some grand unveiling that I was yet to comprehend. Whatever transformation this land was undergoing, it was bigger than my existence.

After a while, I caught the sharp tang of another rogue’s scent. Our eyes met, each assessing danger and intent in that silent communication unique to our kind. My ears twitched to the side as I caught the rustling of leaves under his cautious steps.

“Atticus.” He hailed me with a nod.

“Ryker.”

Our forms shimmered in the dim light, muscles and sinew giving way to flesh and bone. The transformation was as instinctive as a heartbeat, leaving Ryker and me standing as men. His presence was not unwelcome, but the unexpected encounter made my nerves tingle with the intensity of a swarm of buzzing bees.

“You feel it, too, right?” Ryker asked. “The magic… it’s… volatile. Different. Restless.”

I shifted on my feet, the unsettling energy seeping into the soles of my bare feet. “Perhaps.”

His eyes unfocused, as if peering into a reality only he could see. “But there’s more at play here. It’s the prophecy. I believe it is time for it to finally come to fruition.”

Such talk had always been relegated to the sphere of elders and mystics. I was a pragmatist and didn’t entertain notions of so-called prophecies. Yet, there was no denying the peculiar stirrings under our feet or the latent promises that hummed in the air.

“Prophecy?” The word slipped from my lips, heavy with disbelief. I eyed the rogue before me. His stance was uneasy, as if he was unsure of the very earth beneath his feet.

“They say the forest is awakening,” he said reverently. “That a great change is coming. It’s tied to an ancient prophecy about two shifters who will shift the balance of power.”

“And you believe in these old tales?”

“I didn’t used to.” Ryker shrugged. “But there is no denying the forest is in flux. There are whispers of strange happenings, of the trees swaying when there’s no breeze, and the subtle hum of an ancient power.” With a cautious glance, he surveyed the surroundings, his worried expression hinting at a fear that his words had the potential to summon danger.

“Stay safe, Atticus.” With that, he left.

His cryptic comments stayed with me, an enigmatic puzzle that demanded my attention. I shifted and resumed my solitary run through the woods. The forest enveloped me tightly, its presence more pronounced than ever.

I moved with the grace of the predator I was, my steps slowing when I reached a clearing I had not intended to seek.

There, bathed in the glow of the moon, stood Aria.

Surprise flickered through me as I considered the serendipitous turn of events. I’d had no destination in mind, having taken my route out of reflex, yet it was as if I’d been summoned to this place. To her.

Her silhouette was etched against the ethereal light, a vision that set my heart pounding. Her stance was tense, and my intuition screamed at me to remain alert, to brace for the unknown that had guided me here.

I took a measured breath, the cool air filling my lungs with the intoxicating aroma that was uniquely hers. With reverence befitting the sacredness of the moment, I stepped into the clearing.

“The forest seems to have a way of bringing us together,” I said softly.

Aria tilted her head slightly, acknowledging my words without ending her communion with the wilderness. I waited patiently for her to break the silence that hung as fragile and infinitely complex as a spider’s web connecting us. She turned slowly, her luminescent silver eyes finding mine in the dark, piercing through the veil of shadows cloaking me.

“Why were you at the party?” she asked. “And what were you doing inside my head?”

I suppressed a smile, admiring the determination that danced behind her accusatory gaze. There was an untamed and fierce quality to her spirit that inexplicably drew me close, even though there were a myriad reasons I should keep my distance.

“Just passing by,” I said with a casual ease. My shrug was an attempt to deflect the intensity of her scrutiny. “The celebration seemed interesting.”

She just crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing.

“As for your head,” I said, stepping closer to where she was rooted to the spot. “You looked as if you could use a little help.”

At the celebration, I had sensed her chaotic emotions swirling deep inside her, a frenzy threatening to spill over during the revelry.

Defiance rippled over her features, and the forest seemed to hold its breath at her indignation. “I was perfectly fine.” Even though Aria stood with the pride of a warrior, I easily saw the cracks in her armor.

“Fine?” I retorted softly, inching closer until the air crackled between us. The moon above highlighted the delicate flush that rose on her cheeks. “You were on the verge of fainting.” Closing the gap between us, I basked in the heat radiating from her skin. “I felt your panic from across the room. Would’ve been quite a show, revealing your true feelings about your mating situation in front of the entire pack. I’m sure your father would have been so proud of you, princess.”

Her breath hitched. “That’s none of your business.” But her annoyance bled into embarrassment, a subtle shift that didn’t escape me.

I leaned in and watched her pupils dilate, the silver of her eyes turning black. Electric tension crackled and pulsed all around us.

“Hard to imagine mating with that prick is your idea of a fairytale ending,” I said. Each word was deliberate, probing.

“You don’t know Larkin. He’s an eligible bachelor, and highly regarded,” she said a bit tremulously. Her tone lacked the steel that had been present during our previous encounter. It was clear as the crystal stream that wound through these woods that she didn’t believe her own defense.

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed. “You seem absolutely thrilled with the match,” I replied sarcastically.

Her eyes, those twin silver moons, held mine. I saw her spirit, a wild thing caged.

“Thrilled doesn’t begin to cover it,” she snapped. But beneath it, there was an undercurrent of a different emotion—resignation, perhaps, or a plea for understanding.

A powerful force tugged at me, urging me to defy the roles society had assigned us.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Her words, as soft as a rose petal, pierced me like a thorn.

Her vulnerability called out to me, awakening a primal and deeply ingrained instinct to keep her safe. My chest tightened, not with the desire for battle but from an ache to shield her from the invisible chains that oppressed her spirit.

“Perhaps not,” I said. “But I see you. Truly see you.”

In that moment, our connection became a tangible thing, a living entity that wound its way around our souls and whispered of what could be. We were two souls caught in an intricate dance. Each step, each movement was an act of rebellion against the roles we were doomed to play.

I resisted the urge to reach out and trace the contours of her face, memorizing every line and curve. Instead, I leaned against a gnarled tree, the rough bark pressing into my back as I watched her. The moonlight danced across her face, softening the harsh lines of defiance.

“And,” I said, my voice husky now, “I know someone who’s trapped when I see them.”

Her eyes flashed as she squared her shoulders, the tension in her frame contrasting with the calm demeanor she tried to project. “Are you reading my mind?” she demanded.

“No.” I shook my head slightly to emphasize the point. “I only enter people’s minds when it’s absolutely necessary. And the only time I’ve entered yours was when you knew about it at the party. That wasn’t to read your thoughts; it was to share mine.”

My ability to enter someone’s mind through telepathy in human form would surely seem strange to her. In our wolf form, it was second nature, but in our human form, it was only possible to pick up on the strongest of emotions—and even then, only between the closest of relations. I could enter the minds of most people and speak to them, unless they were guarded against it, but a talent like mine was so rare that few knew how to shield their thoughts.

Emotions warred on her face—the flicker of doubt, the desire to believe.

“Your privacy is sacred,” I vowed. “Your thoughts are your own, just as my own are fiercely guarded.” I relaxed my stance, letting my hands hang loosely by my sides. “Trust is earned, and I’m not the kind of person to take it lightly.”

“Would you read them if I let you?” Her question was hesitant, a whisper the rustling leaves nearly swallowed.

“Only if you asked.” I pinned her with my gaze. “Only then.”

The world around us faded into a mere backdrop as my focus narrowed on the woman before me. She was so close now that our breaths mingled, creating a warm cloud in the cold of the night.

My gaze dropped to the delicate curve of her collarbone, where a small crescent moon-shaped birthmark rested. Without thinking, I reached out, fingers quivering slightly as I traced the outline of the mark. Aria shivered, and the sight sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure through me.

“I have a similar mark.” Had fate marked us both? “It’s here.” I touched my hip bone, where an identical moon marked my skin.

She turned her head, and her long, silver hair cascaded over her shoulder, veiling her face momentarily. Compelled by a desire to see her clearly, I gently brushed the strands away. Our gazes locked, and for an instant, the world vanished around us until it was only Aria and me.

“Don’t mate the prick,” I said, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a request. It was a plea, spoken with raw honesty.

Without waiting for her response, I turned on my heel, leaving the clearing—and Aria—behind. Each step that took me away from her was heavier than the last and laden with regret. I didn’t know what the hell had compelled me to speak those final words, but they had felt right.

I shifted again and navigated my way back home, mindful of my route this time. The once-familiar forest was now foreign with its strange energy and pulsing magic. The clearing where I’d encountered Aria had been an unexpected detour, far from my intended path.

This time, the journey passed without surprises. Once I was inside my personal quarters, surrounded by the familiar, I tried to shake off the encounter. But Aria’s image was seared into my mind, the involuntary shudder her body couldn’t conceal, and the haunting beauty of her birthmark that was a replica of my own.

The last vestiges of the nightmare that had haunted me—the betrayal of my original pack, the sharp sting of exile—were gone, and I crawled into bed. The run had drained me, and I fell asleep to thoughts of Aria.

The scent of roasted meat floated through the den, drawing me out of my room and into the communal space where our makeshift family gathered.

“Afternoon,” I grunted in greeting as I slumped into my chair at the rough-hewn table. The warmth of the space wrapped around me, comforting yet too tight, like a well-meaning embrace when you’re yearning to exhale.

Joren passed me a plate piled with food. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” I stabbed my fork into the tender meat and took a bite. Flavors exploded on my tongue, bringing me back to the present.

Hale leaned forward. “Tell us what’s going on.”

I sighed. “There’s a restlessness in the forest. A shift in the magic that weaves through the land.”

Mia tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “We’ve felt it. But what does it mean?”

“The prophecy,” I said after a pause, the word lingering with a sense of foreboding.

Joren scoffed. “Prophecy?”

“I went out in the early hours. Couldn’t sleep, so I ran the perimeter. I met with Ryker. He spoke of an old tale, about two shifters altering the balance of power.”

I hesitated, a ripple of something unrecognizable coursing through me.

A collective silence fell over the group as they digested the information.

“Sounds like bullshit,” Joren finally broke the silence. “Stories and legends made up by people who were desperate as hell.”

“Maybe. But there’s always fact in legend. And the forest”—I felt the pull even now—“ is changing. It’s alive in a way I’ve never experienced before.”

“There have been so many changes recently,” Mia mused. “We’ve all noticed strange phenomena. I’ve even detected a subtle change in my herbal preparations, as if they’ve absorbed the intangible essence of something unseen.”

Hale reclined in his chair, his forehead furrowing in intense concentration. “I’ve heard of this prophecy,” he remarked, his voice tinged with skepticism. “Though I always believed it to be a fanciful story passed down through the ages.”

“I’ve never heard about it before. Do you know anything more?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, and directed my full attention towards Hale.

Hale pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing as if he was mentally sifting through a vast library of words, trying to remember the right ones. “Although the exact wording escapes me, the prophecy refers to two shifters born under a particular moon phase, destined to bring about great change. As a symbol of their connection to the prophecy, these individuals will possess a distinctive birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon.”

I stilled. “Say that again.”

Hale looked at me. “Two shifters?—”

“No, after that.” The blood in my veins turned to ice, leaving me frozen from the inside. “What was it you said about birthmarks?”

“The shifters in the prophecy will have a birthmark in the shape of the crescent moon...” Realization dawned on his face. “Oh, shit.”

“Shit indeed.”

Few shifters had birthmarks or blemishes, and though my mark wasn’t in as noticeable a place as Aria’s, we were shifters. Nudity didn’t concern or embarrass us, so my friends had all seen the mark on my hip at one time or another. And anyone who had ever laid eyes on Aria would have seen hers.

Mia reached across the table and put her hand over mine. “Whatever is happening, you’re not alone.”

Their faces were a mosaic of concern and camaraderie. This was my chosen family, bound not by blood but by loyalty. In their company, I could let down the walls I kept so meticulously fortified.

“Thank you,” I whispered hoarsely.

As I ate, the conversation turned to lighter topics, but I replayed the prophecy in my mind. With each mouthful, I steeled myself for what was to come.

“Atticus,” Lyza said as everyone finished eating, “your involvement with Aria… it’s risky, but I can’t deny it’s not intriguing.”

Joren nodded slowly. “It’s not just the risk, though.” He frowned. “If this prophecy is more than myth, it has the potential to alter everything for us.”

“For all shifters,” Mia affirmed. “The forest has been whispering of change long before now. Perhaps you’re meant to be at the core of it.”

The possibility of being entwined because of some archaic prophecy was both ludicrous and eerily fitting. But it wasn’t just about fate or destiny; it was about Aria, too.

“There’s a pull between us.” I let the truth of my words settle around me. “A connection that goes beyond mere attraction. It’s as if the forest itself orchestrated our meeting.”

“Like two stars colliding,” Mia added wistfully.

Joren smirked. “Or two beasts recognizing each other in the wild.”

Lyza’s melodic laugh eased the tension in the space. “Whatever it is, we’ve got your back. Just don’t lose yourself in her orbit.”

I nodded. “Thanks,” I said simply, but nothing about this was simple. Not the prophecy, not Aria, and certainly not the future that seemed to be hurtling toward us with an unstoppable momentum.