Finding West: Chapter 8

West


I stand a few yards from her, still panting, blood and saliva dripping from my fangs. The metallic tang lingers on my tongue, my body thrumming from giving Jude a beatdown. My pulse pounds in my ears—not from exertion, but from the way she’s looking at me.

Laken sits frozen against the log, one hand clutching her injured leg, the other braced behind her like she’s unsure what to do. Her eyes—wide, unblinking—aren’t just filled with pain.

They’re filled with something else.

Shock. Fear. Confusion.

I take a step forward, and she flinches.

A sharp pang cuts through me, deeper than any wound Jude managed to inflict.

She’s afraid. Of me.

The shift back to my human form is quick, second nature by now, but the aftermath lingers—the heat in my muscles, the sharp scent of blood, the weight of what I’ve done.

I take a step toward Laken, only to realize I’m bare. Again.

Glancing down, I spot what’s left of my shirt—just scraps, shredded from the transition. I grab the largest piece and hold it in front of me, not that it does much. But Laken’s eyes drop to the fabric, and I watch as her shoulders loosen, the sharp edge of fear in her gaze giving way to relief.

Good. She sees me now. Not the wolf.

I drag a hand through my hair, now loose from the ponytail, stray strands falling into my face. Laken’s is just as disheveled, tousled and wild, a reflection of the chaos we just endured.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. I drop to my knees in front of her, hesitation tightening my chest. My voice comes out lower than I mean it to be, rough and regretful. “How bad is it?”

“It’s not that bad,” Laken says, pulling her hand away from the wound. “It’s a clean bite, barely any blood.”

Even now, injured and breathless, she downplays it—turning something brutal into something manageable. A quiet kind of strength, one that doesn’t demand attention but is impossible to ignore.

I shake my head, my jaw tight. “This never should have happened.”

“What about you?” she asks, nodding toward my back. “Are you OK?”

I shift slightly, letting her see the wounds that are already fading. “I heal quickly—a perk of my transition.”

She absorbs that, then asks, “And Jude?”

“He’ll take longer to heal. As he should.”

Her eyes flicker with something unreadable. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

“Jude needed to be taught a lesson. Killing him was never my intention…” I hesitate, jaw tightening. “But I can’t say it didn’t cross my mind after I realized he bit you.”

She nods, as if weighing my words, then exhales. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Her face softens, and for the first time since the fight, she offers me a small smile. But just as I start to relax, her gaze drifts—lower.

Right to my bare chest.

Then, even lower.

Heat prickles at the back of my neck. Right. Still naked.

I clear my throat, shifting uncomfortably. I really need to find a solution for this.

“Do you have any extra clothes in your bag?” I ask, hopeful.

Laken chuckles, grabbing her backpack off the ground and setting it in her lap. “These are stretchy, but I don’t know if they’ll fit. You’re welcome to try.”

She pulls out a pair of small gray shorts, handing them to me. I take them with a nod. “Thanks.”

Without another word, she looks away, fixing her gaze on the ground to give me a little privacy. I step into the shorts and pull them up, grimacing at the fit—tight, uncomfortable, but at least I’m not standing here completely naked.

When I glance up, her lips are twitching, eyes flicking over me with clear amusement. Then she smirks.

“You could definitely pass for an underwear model.”

I blink. “Huh?”

Her face flushes, and she shakes her head quickly. “Never mind.”

“Alright, let me help you up,” I say, extending a hand.

Laken takes it, her fingers cool against my skin, and I pull her to her feet. She sways slightly, but when she steadies, I grab her bag and sling it over my shoulder without a second thought.

“Do you want me to carry you?” I ask.

Her expression tightens with determination. “No, I can walk.”

She takes a couple of steps, but the moment her injured leg bears weight, she winces—just slightly, but I catch it.

I let her take a few more steps before pointing out the fresh trail of blood seeping from her wound.

“Laken, you’re starting to bleed.”

She stops, glancing down with a frown. The sight of it seems to knock some of the fight out of her.

“Let me carry you,” I say. “You can climb on my back, and I’ll hold your leg up as we go.”

“It’s too far,” she argues, though there’s hesitation in her voice.

I arch a brow, giving her a look that says, Are you really questioning my strength right now?

Her lips press together, and after a beat, she sighs. “Okay, fine,” she mutters, cheeks flushing as she gives in.

I squat down, making it easier for her to climb on. As her arms wrap around my neck, I grip her upper thighs and lift her onto my back with ease.

I adjust my hold, keeping her injured leg extended to slow the bleeding while securing my other arm around her thigh, her backpack pressed against my side.

“You comfortable?” I ask, glancing back.

She nods slightly, settling against me. “Yes. Thank you. But what about your shoes?”

“Don’t need them.” I shrug.

I carry her with ease, but it’s more than that—it feels right. The warmth of her against me, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way she trusts me enough to hold her like this. It stirs something deep, something steady and unshakable. Her sweet scent lingers in the air between us, familiar and grounding, and the soft press of her arms around my shoulders feels less like necessity and more like something I don’t want to let go of. For the first time in a long time, I feel settled. Whole. And I wasn’t expecting that.

“I’m sorry I frightened you earlier,” I murmur, careful not to trip over the gnarled roots beneath my feet.

“I was more shocked than scared,” she admits quietly. “Everything happened so fast.”

I twist my torso, straining to meet her eyes, and add, “I never wanted you to find out this way.”

Laken is quiet for a moment. Then, she squeezes my shoulder gently, her fingers lingering just long enough to ground me. Her gesture sends a warmth through me, easing the weight of my own thoughts.

“Now I know why Lindell asked if I was entirely human,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice.

I chuckle. “He’s always had a funny way of wording things.”

“But not you,” she points out. Her tone shifts—curious, searching. “Why do you sound like you belong in my world? The way you speak is no different than Hunter. Than me. No offense to Lindell, but you come across as… more educated, more knowledgeable.”

I tilt my head, considering her words. “Future leaders are required to study far more anyone else,” I admit. “As an infant, I was read to constantly. By four, I was reading on my own. By sixteen, I had devoured everything our archives had to offer—at least, everything I was allowed to access.”

I hesitate, then admit, “But there’s still so much I don’t know—especially about your world. I hope you’ll teach me.”

“Of course I will,” she says, resting her head against my shoulder. “You’re stuck with me now.”

I grin, warmth lacing my voice. “Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There’s a peaceful silence between us as I carry her through the narrowing path. Birds tweet softly in the distance, the rhythmic sound of my footsteps blending with the quiet hum of the forest.

But then, I feel her starting to slip. Her grip on me loosens.

Panic tightens in my chest. “Laken, you still with me?” I ask, adjusting my hold.

Her head lifts slightly from my shoulder, her voice softer than before. “I’m suddenly so tired,” she murmurs.

My pulse quickens. Is this just exhaustion, or is she having a bad reaction to Jude’s bite?

“I know you’re tired, but I need you to try and stay awake for me, okay?” I say, keeping my voice steady even as worry creeps in. “Ask me a question. Anything.”

“OK… is everyone in your village a werewolf?”

“Everyone carries the gene,” I explain. “At sixteen, their bodies undergo the transition, revealing their true form. The first shift is the only one that happens without choice.”

She hesitates, then asks, “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head. “No, if anything, it’s the opposite—it’s freeing, almost euphoric.”

“Oh.” She falls quiet, but I don’t let the pause stretch too long.

“Ask me something else,” I press gently, hoping to keep her engaged.

“Did Jude know I was human?” she asks softly.

“Yes. I suspect Bree sent him to scare you off.”

She’s quiet for a moment before asking, “Then why didn’t Bree attack me? She easily could have.”

I hesitate, my grip on her tightening slightly. There’s no easy way to say this. “Bree probably smelled my scent on you—that’s why she didn’t attack. She… kinda has a thing for me. Sending Jude after you instead made it less direct. If anything happened, the blame would fall on him, not her. My guess? She wanted to scare you off without getting her hands dirty.”

I swallow hard, already dreading Laken’s reaction.

But there’s no reaction. Just silence—and then her grip loosens even more.

This time, she slides off me completely, but I’m quick to catch her. Fear grips my chest as I cradle her in my arms, her body limp against me.

“Laken,” I murmur urgently. Her eyelids flutter, barely opening, but at least she’s still with me.

We’re almost there,” I mutter, picking up my pace.

The trees begin to thin ahead, revealing the open stretch leading back to my village. Relief tugs at the edges of my panic, but I don’t let it slow me.

As soon as I pass the gate and step onto the familiar field, a blur of movement catches my eye. Lindell.

He’s already racing toward me, his expression a mix of confusion and worry. “West—what happened?”

“Jude happened,” I say flatly, not bothering to hide my frustration. “He came at us. Managed to bite Laken’s leg.”

Lindell’s brows knit together as he keeps pace beside me. “Why would he do that?”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” I snap. “I need you to get Nora and have her meet me in the infirmary. Immediately.”

Lindell hesitates for half a second before nodding. But then he adds, “Crue wants you. He just had a meeting with the elders. Giza and Bree are still in there.”

I clench my jaw. Of course they are.

“They’re going to have to wait,” I say, leaving no room for argument.

Laken mutters something unrecognizable, voice barely above a whisper.

I glance at Lindell, my tone low but laced with urgency. “Get Nora. Now.”

“On it,” he replies, already turning on his heel, sprinting toward the dining hall where Nora spends most of her time.

I adjust my hold on Laken, securing her more firmly. “You still with me?”

Her heavy eyes flicker open, meeting mine for a brief moment before she simply leans into my chest, seeking its warmth.

The knot in my stomach pulls tighter.

I pick up my pace, hurrying toward the infirmary, which sits near the school on the left side of our village. Once known as the Healing Hut, it has since evolved into a more structured space, built from sturdy timber with a thatched roof and wide, open windows to let in fresh air. Inside, shelves line the walls, stocked with dried herbs, salves, and medical tools crafted by our healers. It’s not advanced by any means, but it’s the best we have.

And right now, it has to be enough.

I carefully lay her down on the tall wooden cot, its fabric an earthy tone that blends with the room. Her head shifts on the pillow, lips parting as she mumbles something incoherent, almost as if she’s dreaming.

“I’m right here,” I murmur, brushing a hand gently over her hairline.

I glance around the room, taking in how tidy and organized everything is. The floor is swept clean of even the smallest speck of dust. It’s a stark contrast to the way Lindell and I live—like a couple of unkempt animals.

Soft light filters through the windows, but the room remains dim. I step over to the two oil lamps, striking them to life. One flickers to a steady glow on the small table beside Laken’s cot, casting warm light over her face.

Nora enters the room, her chocolate-brown hair pulled back from her round face, stray wisps escaping around her temples.

“Lindell said you needed my help,” she says, her voice brisk but edged with concern. Her dark eyes flick to Laken, taking in her pale condition. Her eagerness to assist is clear, but so is the worry tightening her features.

“Jude bit her in the woods,” I explain, my voice tight. “One minute she was fine, then she fainted on me. She keeps drifting in and out of consciousness.”

Nora steps closer, and I move aside, giving her a clear view of Laken. Her sharp gaze sweeps over her before flicking back to me.

“Why did you send for me instead of one of our healers?”

I meet her eyes without hesitation. “Laken is human. I don’t trust them with her… Will you help?”

She exhales, then nods. “Show me her bite.”

“It’s the right leg, inner calf,” I say, moving to the foot of the cot.

Nora leans over Laken, her eyes sharp with focus, her expression tight as she inspects the wound. I watch her every move, the tightness in my chest refusing to ease.

She shifts her attention to Laken’s upper body, pressing two fingers against her wrist while lowering her head to listen to her heartbeat and breathing. The silence stretches, heavy with uncertainty.

Impatience claws at me. “What’s wrong with her? Is she reacting to the bite?”

Nora lifts her head, shaking it slightly. “No, I don’t think so.” Her voice is calm but firm. “Her heart rate and breathing are steady. And there’s no sign of infection.”

That should be reassuring, but it’s not.

“Then why does she keep fading in and out?” I press, frustration creeping into my voice.

Nora pauses, considering. “Anything else traumatic happen?”

“Yesterday, I caught her falling from a rock—fifteen feet, maybe,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “She also had a rough encounter with Bree early this morning. Oh, and she saw me shift for the first time.”

Nora knits her brows together as she carefully presses around the wound, checking for deeper damage. “I think she’s exhausted, West. Likely overwhelmed. A bite like this would hurt, but it shouldn’t be enough to knock her out—not physically, anyway.”

“So, what are you saying? You think it’s a mental thing?”

“Not entirely,” Nora says, reaching for a small glass jar on the nearby shelf. “Pain, stress, and an adrenaline crash can do strange things to the body, especially to someone not used to our kind. She’s been through a lot in a short amount of time. Her body is probably forcing her to shut down and recover.”

The knot in my chest refuses to loosen. “And if she doesn’t wake up soon?”

Nora meets my eyes, steady and sure. “She will.”

She reaches for a cloth. “I’ll clean the wound, but she mostly just needs rest… I can sit with her once I’m done. Why don't you go meet Crue and the others. Lindell mentioned a meeting.”

A war wages in my mind. I don’t want to leave her, not when she’s like this. But duty calls, and ignoring it won’t do either of us any favors.

I step closer, brushing a hand over her hair before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Be back soon,” I whisper.

She stirs at my touch, a soft sound escaping her lips, but she doesn’t wake. I linger for a moment, then step back with a quiet sigh.

“Thank you, Nora,” I say, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Go,” she urges. “I’ve got her.”

Before I make it out the door, Nora’s voice stops me. “West?”

I glance back. She lifts a brow, one hand resting at her hip. “Might want to grab a shirt before your big meeting. Unless you think intimidation by bare chest is the way to go.”

I huff a short laugh, glancing down at myself—still only in those too-tight shorts. “Good point.”

“Yeah, I have those sometimes,” she quips, already turning back to Laken.

On my way to Crue’s chamber, I detour to my hut, pushing through the wooden door with urgency. The place is a mess—blankets strewn across the bed, boots kicked off in random corners, and a half-eaten loaf of bread still sitting on the table. I don’t bother with the chaos, yanking open my trunk to grab a fresh shirt and a pair of looser pants. Once dressed, I tie my hair back, take a steadying breath, and head out.

I move in haste, eager to get the meeting over with. Crue’s private chamber sits at the end of a long corridor connected to the dining hall, where the rich aromas of lunch preparation drift through the air. My stomach growls in protest, but I push the thought aside, my focus set on the conversation ahead.

As I near the door, Giza’s firm voice carries through the crack. “Then we’re agreed. The trade agreement stands—but only if your village commits to strengthening our borders. I expect a twenty-four-hour watch in place by tonight.”

Crue’s reply is measured but resolute. “Our villages will work together to ensure everyone’s safety.”

Then Bree’s voice cuts through, smug and unyielding. “And let’s not forget—the humans must go.”

I shove the door open without hesitation, the force of it slamming against the wall. All eyes snap to me, but I only have eyes for Bree.

“She’s not going anywhere,” I state, my voice low and firm.

Bree leans back in her chair, arms crossed over her black tee, the dim light catching the sharp angles of her platinum bob. A smug smile tugs at her lips. “You’re late,” she drawls. “We already made our decision.”

I take a slow step forward, jaw tight. “Then unmake it.”

“West, I’m sorry, but the decision’s been made,” Crue says, running a hand over his jaw. “The elders voted unanimously—Laken and Hunter have to go back home, where they belong.”

“There’s a reason they were able to enter our land,” I argue, forcing myself to remain steady. “I’m only asking for time to figure out how and why.” I meet Crue’s gaze, silently urging him to reconsider.

“Absolutely not,” Giza replies, her voice even but firm. “It’s not safe for them here.”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Is that why you sent one of your own to attack Laken?”

Giza straightens, her long blue tunic shifting as she folds her arms. Strands of blonde, threaded with gray, frame her shoulders. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, her tone clipped.

“Laken was bitten,” I say, my voice sharp. “She’s in the infirmary being treated right now.”

Crue’s expression hardens. “Did you see who did it?”

My gaze flicks to Bree, catching the briefest flash of tension in her eyes before she smoothes her expression. It would be satisfying to call her out, but that wouldn’t help me—not yet. Better to keep that knowledge in my back pocket.

“No,” I lie smoothly. “But the scent didn’t come from Mantra.” I level a stare at Giza.

She scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. “We don’t attack humans,” she says, her tone dripping with offense. Then, with a pointed look, she adds, “But this only proves my point. They’re not safe here—another reason they need to leave.”

“Giza’s right,” Crue says. “Our kind has always feared humans, and that fear has left us vulnerable. Laken and Hunter don’t deserve to be caught in the middle of that.”

“Exactly, having them return home is simply in everyone’s best interest,” Giza says, rising to her feet. Bree follows suit, her boots clicking against the floor as she moves. “My daughter and I will leave you to discuss matters alone,” she adds coolly before turning toward the door.

Bree shoots me a pointed glare. “Don’t be foolish, West,” she says, her tone laced with an unspoken warning.

“Hey,” I call after her, a slow smirk tugging at my lips. “Be sure to pass along my regards to Jude—I hear he’s having a rough day.”

She halts in the doorway, shoulders going rigid. A flicker of irritation crosses her face as her lips press into a thin line, eyes narrowing just enough to confirm I hit a nerve. Without a word, she turns on her heel and strides out, each step sharp with controlled anger.

I slam the door shut, the sound echoing through the room. “Why would you make that agreement knowing how I feel about Laken?” I demand, my voice tight with frustration.

Crue’s jaw tightens, his expression weighted with responsibility. “You missed the part where Giza threatened to end all trade agreements,” he says. “She promised to ostracize us from the other villages in our tribe. We’d be on our own, West—cut off, without any incoming goods.”

I grind my teeth. The thought of our village suffering because of one decision makes my stomach churn.

“Being a wise and noble leader means putting your pack’s survival above your personal desires,” Crue continues. “This is the kind of sacrifice you’re learning about sooner than most, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Despite my frustration, I know he’s right. I am being selfish. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give up. My mind scrambles for another solution, some way to keep Laken here.

“Rida mentioned this happening before,” I say, grasping at hope. “A girl crossed the boundary once, didn’t she?”

Crue’s expression darkens. “Yes, years ago, in the Asher village. But that was different—she had the mark.”

My breath catches. “The same as me?”

He nods. “Yes. On her arm, I believe.”

“What happened? Was she allowed to stay?”

Crue’s shoulders sag slightly. “The village had been without a marked leader for years, so the elders decided she would take the role, with their guidance. Most believed she had wandered off as a toddler and somehow ended up in the human world, only to find her way back home.”

I hold my breath, waiting for the part where it all worked out. But Crue’s expression hardens.

“She couldn’t transition,” he says quietly. “Some saw that as weakness. Those who disagreed with the elders’ decision…” He pauses, then exhales slowly, as if the memory itself pains him. “The night before the ceremony, she was found dead in her bed. Her throat—mauled.”

I recoil, a mix of disbelief and disgust crashing over me. But beneath it all, a sliver of relief settles in—I made the right choice keeping Laken’s mark a secret.

Even as that thought reassures me, more questions claw at my mind. My distress only fuels my need for answers.

“How many of our kind have left and stayed in Laken’s world?” I ask.

Crue shakes his head. “None that I know of. Why?”

“But it’s possible, isn’t it?” I press. “That an individual, or even a family, could have left?”

He studies me, his expression wary. “Yes, it’s certainly possible. But what are you getting at?”

I take a breath, the pieces slowly clicking into place. “What if the reason Laken and Hunter were able to cross into our world isn’t just some accident? What if they were able to enter because they truly belong here? What if they’re descendants of our kind?”