I kept my muzzle low, testing the air. We’d arrived upwind from the compound, which left me feeling vulnerable. I wouldn’t be able to pick up the scent of anyone hidden by night’s veil until I was almost on top of them. My ears flicked back and forth, alert, listening for any sign of life. There was nothing. No rabbits dashing for cover under brush, nor did nocturnal birds flit through the sky. This place wasn’t just abandoned; it felt cursed, as if nothing dared tread within the boundaries of the clearing.

I picked up my pace, covering the distance to the house, leaping over snowdrifts, my nails scraping on rivers of ice that had frozen on the pavement. When I reached the front steps, I stopped to sniff the ground. My eyes followed fresh paw prints that became boot tracks, climbing the steps. Ren’s scent was sharp, new. He’d arrived only slightly before we had. I slowly moved up to the porch, shifting forms to open the screen door. I carefully turned the doorknob. The house wasn’t locked. I let the door swing open. It made a slight creak but nothing else. I slipped inside, closing the door and turning the dead bolt. If someone did come after me, I wanted warning of their arrival.

I shifted back into wolf form, moving through the front hall, tracing Ren’s scent to the main staircase. I tried not to cringe as I passed the entrance to the dining room. A beautiful oak table, probably antique, was surrounded by chairs. Four on each side, one at the head and one at the foot. Ten. It was too easy to imagine meals there. Our pack together, laughing, teasing, belonging.

I climbed the stairs slowly, wishing my nails weren’t clicking on the hardwood. When I reached the second floor, I paused, listening. The house only answered with silence. Still trailing Ren’s path through the house, I passed three bedrooms and a bathroom, until I reached the door at the end of the hallway. My heart slammed against my rib cage as I entered the master suite.