Chapter Ten

A low growl rumbled deep in Javier’s chest. One moment, he lay with his head in Maeve’s lap, her fingers threading absently through his fur, and the next, every muscle in his body locked.

His head rose, and he sniffed the air. There. A familiar smell drifted in on the wind. Something bitter. Rafael. Javier’s ears flattened. His lips curled back, exposing his teeth.

Maeve froze, the warmth in her lap gone and replaced by the chilled air.

“What is it?” she whispered, her hand stilling against his neck.

The growl deepened. He could feel him: sharp, instinctive, like a thorn beneath his flesh. He could not fully see or smell him, but Rafael was watching. Without warning, Javier sprang to his feet.

“Hey!” Maeve called.

He was already moving. The wolf raced down the rocky slope, leaping over boulders and weaving through the scrub brush. Pebbles scattered beneath his paws as he descended toward the camp. He nearly collided with Mateo, who stepped into his path, eyes growing wide. The growl died in Javier’s throat. He shifted. Bones cracked, and fur receded. A heartbeat later, he stood naked in the moonlight, breathing hard.

Mateo sighed and tossed him the bundle of clothes that Javier had stashed beneath a mesquite tree earlier that evening.

“You know,” Mateo said dryly, “one of these days you’re going to shift somewhere without spare clothes.”

Javier yanked on his jeans.

“It’s Rafael.”

Mateo’s expression changed instantly.

“What about him?”

“He’s here.”

Mateo looked around the dark camp.

“You saw him?”

Javier shook his head.

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

He hesitated. Because I can feel him. The answer sounded ridiculous even in his own head. Sometimes, when another wolf was near, something deeper than smell or sight would flare inside him, a prickling at the base of his skull, a certainty that had nothing to do with ordinary senses. It was as if his wolf-self could reach out through the world, catch a thread of another’s presence, and know. A strange, animal intuition. That was how he recognized Rafael: not by his scent alone, but by the peculiar chill that ran through Javier, unmistakable and unexplainable to anyone who wasn’t born to it.

“He was up on the ridge.” Javier pulled his shirt over his head. “Watching.”
Mateo folded his arms.

“You seem awfully certain.”

“I am.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then Mateo looked past him. Javier turned. Maeve was making her way down the trail. Her copper hair glowed silver underneath the moonlight, and she slowed when she spotted the two men. She looked from Mateo to Javier, then behind them, confusion furrowing her brow. She walked closer, wary now.

“Where did the wolf go?”

Javier’s body froze. Mateo’s mouth twitched.

“The wolf?” he asked.

“The one that was with me.” She looked around the camp. “He ran right down here.”

Javier forced himself to remain calm.

“I didn’t see a wolf.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“I’ve been here with Mateo.”

She pointed toward the ridge. “The wolf came down this way. He would have run right past you.”

Mateo remained perfectly silent. Maeve looked between them.

“I know what I saw.”

Javier lifted one shoulder.

“Maybe he went around us.”

“He didn’t.”

There was certainty in her voice, and something else; concern. As if she were worried about where the wolf had gone. A curious warmth rose in his chest, and Mateo noticed it immediately. His gaze shifted to Javier, thoughtful and knowing.

Javier ignored him. Maeve folded her arms.

“I swear, you two are acting weird.”

Mateo finally spoke.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

She frowned.

“I only wanted to make sure he was okay.”

The words impacted Javier harder than they should have. She was worried about him. About his wolf. For a moment, something twisted beneath his ribs, an unfamiliar ache that made his jaw clench. He shouldn’t care what she thought, but the knowledge of her concern unsettled him. Mateo’s eyes narrowed slightly.

There it was. The old wolf had seen it. The bond. The attachment was already forming, whether Javier wanted to admit it or not. Confusion muddied Javier’s thoughts. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, just instinct and duty, but the denial rang hollow even in his own mind. He was still staring at Maeve, searching for an explanation within himself that refused to come. And for the first time, the thought of Rafael watching her made something possessive and dangerous stir deep inside him, an impulse he tried to push away, but could not ignore.

Maeve looked between them again, suspicion in her eyes.

“You two are really weird, you know that?”

Neither man said a word. She sighed.

“Fine. Keep your mysterious wolf secrets.”

She took a few steps backward toward the cave entrance, then stopped.

“And if your giant mystery wolf comes back…” She looked directly at Javier. “Tell him I was asking about him.”

Javier’s breath faltered. Maeve’s mouth twitched.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I trust the wolf more than I trust either of you.”

Mateo made a strangled sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh. Javier shot him a look. Maeve shook her head.

“Goodnight, weird wolf people.”

Then she turned and headed toward the cave. Silence enveloped the camp. Mateo waited until she disappeared inside before speaking.

“Well.”

Javier rubbed a hand over his face.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

A grin slowly spread across Mateo’s face.

“The wolf is winning.”

Javier groaned. Mateo watched Javier for a long moment.

“You lied to her.”

Javier crossed his arms. “About what?”

“The wolf.”

Javier looked away. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

Mateo nodded quietly, as if he’d expected that answer. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Campfires crackled nearby, and somewhere in the camp, there was laughter.

Then Mateo said quietly, “You know, when you were a boy, you used to bring injured animals back to camp.”

Javier frowned. “What?”

“You’d find something hurt and refuse to leave its side. You once sat up all night with a rabbit that had a broken leg.”

Javier huffed a laugh. “I was ten.”

“You’ve always protected things.”

“I know.”

Mateo looked toward the ridge.

“But this…” he said softly. “This is different.”

Javier’s expression tightened.

“What do you mean?”

Mateo folded his arms.

“I’ve never seen your wolf act like this.”

“Act like what?”

“You followed her all day. You sat beside her at breakfast. You keep finding excuses to be near her.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on her.”

Mateo looked at him knowingly.

“No, mijo. You’ve been watching over her.”

The words fell heavily between them. Javier frowned.

“She’s the flame. Lucia said she’s important.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Javier looked at him.

Mateo’s expression eased.

“I’ve known you your whole life, Javier. I know when something has hold of your attention.”

Javier let out a slow breath.

“You’re reading too much into it.”

“Maybe.”

Mateo’s eyes shifted toward the ridge again.

“Or maybe your wolf has already decided something that your head hasn’t caught up to yet.”

Javier fell still. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“My wolf doesn’t make decisions for me.”

A small smile flickered on Mateo’s mouth.

“No?”

Silence. Then Mateo placed a hand on Javier’s shoulder.

“Just be careful.”

“About Rafael?”

Mateo shook his head.

“About your own heart.”

Javier stared at him, completely confused. Mateo squeezed his shoulder once before letting go.

“You don’t see it yet,” he said quietly. “But I think one day you will.”

Without another word, Mateo turned and walked toward the fire. Javier remained where he was, staring after him. Then he looked back toward the ridge where Maeve had been sitting only minutes before. Restlessness settled in his chest. He didn’t understand what Mateo was trying to tell him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Your own heart. Javier shook his head.

“No,” he muttered.

He wasn’t about to start inventing feelings because of an old story and a restless wolf. Taking one last glance toward the ridge, he turned and headed back toward the fire. Mateo had already lowered himself into one of the camp chairs that Abuela Rosa and Lucia had occupied earlier. The flames had burned low, forming long shadows across the sand. Javier sat down opposite him.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Then something caught Javier’s eye. A crocheted blanket lay folded over the arm of one of the chairs. He smiled. Abuela Rosa’s lap blanket. She carried it everywhere on cool nights.

“She forgot this,” he said, picking it up.

Mateo chuckled softly.

“She’ll blame her old age and then refuse to admit she’s getting forgetful.”

Javier folded the blanket carefully and placed it beside him so he could return it later. His hand lingered on the soft fabric. His thoughts drifted. To Maeve.

A few days ago, she had been working in a bar in Washington. Now she was stranded in the middle of the desert, learning she carried ancient fire in her blood and had somehow become part of a war she didn’t understand. She had been kidnapped, trafficked, and nearly killed, and despite all of it, she kept asking questions, kept getting back up, kept trying to understand.

Javier had watched her in moments when she thought no one was looking: the way she paused, held her breath, blinked quickly as if holding something back. Sometimes her hands trembled, only for her to stuff them into her pockets and stride forward as if nothing could touch her. She should be falling apart. Instead, she was still standing, still fighting. Maybe she was holding herself together through stubbornness alone, but whatever her method, it was working. Javier found himself strangely impressed by her resolve. No. More than impressed. He admired her for it. A small smile appeared on his mouth before he caught himself.

Mateo watched him carefully.

“Thinking about the flame keeper?”

Javier’s eyes lifted. He cleared his throat.

“I’m thinking she has had a lot thrown at her all at once.”

“She has.”

“Most people would have run by now,” he paused with a smile. “Well, I guess she tried that already.”

Mateo nodded.

“She’s stronger than she realizes.”

Javier looked back at the fire.

“Yeah.”

The flames crackled softly. Then his expression hardened.

“But Rafael changes things.”

Mateo’s face became serious.

“Yes, he does.”

Silence settled over them. Finally, Mateo spoke.

“Why would he be here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You said you felt him.”

Javier nodded.

“I knew it was him immediately.”

Mateo regarded him for a moment before continuing.

“Do you think he knows about the Living Flame?” Mateo asked, his voice low.

The Living Flame was more than just a legend. It was a power that, according to the elders, held the potential to heal or destroy, and was tied to the survival of their people. Whoever controlled it could shape the fate of the desert, and perhaps far beyond.

Javier considered it.

“I don’t know how he couldn’t.”

“The fire in the desert?”

“Word travels.”

Mateo sighed.

“Especially among wolves.”

Javier leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“What worries me is why he was watching.”

Mateo nodded slowly.

“He didn’t approach the camp.”

“No. He didn’t cross the runes.”

Javier glanced toward the darkness at the edge of camp, where lines of protection marked the boundaries. The runes, etched with ink and blood, embedded in the earth by Lucia, kept out anything not invited, especially rival wolves. For someone like Rafael, even stepping over them meant agony, a sharp magical force that warned intruders away.

“No. He just watched.”

Javier looked into the fire.

“Like he was confirming something.”

Neither man liked that thought.

Then Mateo said quietly, “Do you think he’s connected to Maeve’s kidnapping?”

Javier’s head shot up.

“I’ve been asking myself that same question.”

Mateo frowned.

“The timing is suspicious.”

“Too suspicious.”

“Traffickers take migrants every day. They don’t usually drive all the way to Washington to abduct a woman.”

“No.”

“And then she ends up here.”

Javier’s jaw tightened.

“Not by accident.”

The fire popped loudly. Mateo rubbed his beard.

“If Rafael knew the flame was awakening…”

“He might have been looking for her.”

They both sat quietly, weighing the words.

“And if that’s true?” Mateo asked.

Javier’s expression clouded.

“Then he put her in danger.”

The temperature around the fire suddenly seemed colder. Mateo watched him carefully.

“You sound angry.”

“I am.”

“Because she’s the Living Flame?”

Javier didn’t answer immediately.

“Because innocent people don’t deserve this.”

Mateo let the answer pass. For now.

“We need to assume Rafael knows something we don’t,” Mateo said.

Javier nodded.

“And we need to assume he’ll come back.”

“Agreed.”

Mateo leaned back in his chair.

“So, what do we do?”

Javier didn’t hesitate.

“We protect her. At all times. She doesn’t leave camp alone or at all.”

Mateo nodded.

“We’ll double the patrols. And strengthen the southern runes. I’ll have Lucia check them first thing.”

Silence settled again. The flames flickered between them.

Finally, Mateo spoke, “If Rafael is involved in this…”

Javier already knew what he was going to say.

“There will be trouble.”

Mateo nodded grimly.

“The packs have kept an uneasy peace for years.”

Javier’s eyes hardened.

“But if he endangered the flame keeper…”

“It won’t stay peaceful.”

The wind stirred the flames. For a long moment, both men stared into the fire.

Then Mateo said quietly, “I have a feeling, mijo…”

Javier looked at him.

“This is bigger than any of us realize.”

Javier looked toward the dark ridge again. Maeve was probably trying to make sense of a world that had changed overnight. And now Rafael was watching from the shadows. Whatever might be coming…it had already begun. Mateo watched Javier closely. A look of fatherly concern on his face.

Javier let out a short laugh.

“You worry too much, viejo.”

Mateo snorted, “I’ve earned the right.”

“I know my job,” responded Javier.

“I know you do.”

The old wolf’s expression softened.

“That’s why I’m not worried about the camp.”

The words made Javier smile despite himself. Mateo had always done that. Even when Javier was a boy, he’d somehow known exactly when he needed encouragement and when he needed the hard truth.

Mateo rose from his chair. “First light. We’ll gather everyone when the patrols return.”

Javier nodded. Mateo took a few steps before stopping.

“And bring Maeve.”

Javier sighed.

“She won’t be happy.”

“No,” Mateo agreed. “She won’t.”

Then he disappeared into the darkness.

Javier remained by the fire for another moment. The camp had gone quiet again. Only the occasional snap from the dying flames and the distant sounds of the night disturbed the silence.

He reached for the folded blanket beside him. Abuela Rosa’s blanket. He smiled. Every cool evening, she wrapped it around her lap, no matter how warm everyone else claimed it was. She’d be looking for it in the morning. Carefully, he draped it over his arm and headed toward his tent. As he entered, he placed the blanket neatly on the end of his cot so he wouldn’t forget to return it.

Then he paused, gaze drifting toward where Maeve slept. Her entire world had been turned upside down in days: freedom stolen, powers awakened, a desert full of secrets. Anyone else might have buckled, but Maeve was different. Fear and doubt had battered her, but she moved through each new trial with stubborn determination. Even exhausted, she never stopped looking for answers. She kept getting back up, no matter what the world threw at her. That resilience lingered in Javier’s mind, sparking both admiration and an unease he tried to ignore.

A small shake of his head escaped him. She was stronger than she knew. Maybe stronger than anyone realized. He found himself hoping she would discover that strength soon. Because something told him she was going to need it. The thought lingered only a moment before he pushed it away. Whatever happened next, it wasn’t his place to worry about what she might become.

His job was easy. Protect. That was what he had been raised to do. Protect the people crossing the desert. Protect the pack. Protect those who could not protect themselves. And now… protect the Living Flame.

The answer settled easily in his chest. There was nothing complicated about it. Nothing emotional. Nothing mysterious. Just duty. He almost laughed, thinking about Mateo’s concerns. He and his wolf had been born for this. Raised for it. There would be no confusion. No distractions. No emotions getting in the way. He knew exactly what his role was.

Satisfied, Javier stepped back outside. The cool desert air greeted him immediately.

Above him, thousands of stars filled the night sky. He inhaled deeply, letting the customary scents of dust, creosote, and smoke settle around him. Then he began his patrol. A guardian beneath the stars. Completely unaware that the very thing he insisted could never happen had already begun.