Kael
By the time my cabin came into view through the trees, my legs were on fire, my side slick with blood. My lungs felt like they were filled with glass. But I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
The place looked like it always had—dark, silent, crouched in the clearing like a wolf itself. My exile had made it a tomb, but tonight it was the only place left to run.
I kicked the door open with my shoulder, staggering inside. The scent of woodsmoke and old pine filled the air, familiar and bitter. I lowered Elara onto the narrow bed against the wall, her body far too still, far too fragile against the rough blanket.
For a moment, I just stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping onto the floorboards. My wolf paced inside me, furious at every second she wasn't safe.
Her lashes fluttered. She stirred, a soft sound slipping from her throat. Then her eyes opened. Silver. Not glowing like before, but silver enough to make my breath catch.
She blinked up at me, confusion and fear swirling in her gaze. "Where… where am I?" Her voice was hoarse, weak, but steady enough to sting me with relief.
"My cabin," I said, harsher than I meant to. My throat felt raw, my voice rough. "You're safe. For now."
She pushed herself up slightly, wincing, scanning the small room like a cornered animal. "I—" Her words broke off as her gaze landed on me. On the blood, the claws still not fully retracted, the raw edges of my wolf too close to the surface. Her lips parted, and I saw the flicker of realization.
"You're…" She swallowed. "You're like me."
I snorted, turning away before the bond could drag me deeper into those eyes. "No. I'm nothing like you."
Her voice sharpened, even through the weakness. "You saved me. You could've left me there. Why didn't you?"
I froze, hand gripping the edge of the table hard enough to splinter the wood. I didn't have an answer I wanted to give her. The truth was dangerous. The truth was mine.
The bond wouldn't let me. Because from the moment I smelled her in the forest, she'd already been inside my veins, burning like fire I couldn't put out.
Instead, I growled, "Don't mistake survival for kindness. You won't be here long."
Her breath caught, soft but sharp. She sank back against the pillows, eyes narrowing. I expected fear, maybe even tears. What I didn't expect was the steel in her voice when she whispered, "I don't think you believe that."
The bond pulsed between us, alive, undeniable. My wolf surged toward her, demanding, reaching. I slammed the walls back up, teeth gritted.
But deep down, I knew she was right.
The silence stretched too long. Her eyes followed me as I stripped off my torn shirt, every muscle burning as I moved. My shoulder throbbed where claws had raked through to the bone, my leg screamed with every step. Blood smeared across my ribs, drying into a sticky crust.
I grabbed the tin box off the shelf, snapped it open, and pulled out a roll of bandages. My hands shook—not from weakness, but from the way her gaze pinned me, unflinching.
"You should let me help."
Her voice startled me. Small, rough, but steady enough that I almost laughed. Almost.
"You can barely sit up," I muttered, dropping into the chair with a hiss of pain. I pressed a rag against the wound in my side, biting back a growl as fire shot through me. "I don't need your help."
She pushed herself upright anyway, ignoring the way her body trembled. Stubborn. Too stubborn for her own good. "You saved me. Let me do something."
I cut her a sharp look. "You want to help? Then tell me why half the forest was hunting you tonight."
Her lips parted, but no words came. She looked down, fingers twisting in the blanket. The silence that followed was louder than a scream.
I slammed the rag onto the table, blood spattering across the wood. "You think I bled for fun? You think I dragged you out of there because I wanted company?" My voice was sharper than I intended, but the frustration had been building since the moment I caught her scent.
Her chin lifted slowly, and when her eyes met mine again, there was no fear there. Only a flicker of something deeper. Something like shame. "I didn't ask you to save me."
The words hit harder than any claw. For a second, I saw myself reflected in her gaze—not the rescuer, not the protector. Just the outcast. A mistake she'd been unlucky enough to fall into.
My wolf snarled, furious at the rejection, furious at me for even letting the words land. She's ours. Ours.
I tore the bandage from the roll, wrapping it tight around my ribs until my skin burned. "Fine. Next time, I'll leave you for the rogues."
Her breath caught, but she didn't look away. "You wouldn't."
My head snapped toward her. "What makes you so sure?"
For a moment, the room shrank down to nothing but her silver eyes on mine. The bond thrummed like a live wire, hot and demanding. I hated how steady she looked, even trembling and bruised, as if she could see through me. As if she already knew the answer I refused to admit.
Finally, she whispered, "Because you couldn't."
The words coiled around my chest, squeezing tight, dangerous. I hated that she was right.
Her words wouldn't leave me. Because you couldn't. They echoed through the cabin long after the silence swallowed them, louder than the crackle of the fire in the hearth, louder than the pulse pounding in my ears.
I tightened the bandage around my leg and forced myself to look away from her. Distance. I needed distance. But her scent filled the room—warm, faintly sweet, threaded with the iron tang of blood. It curled through me like smoke, making my chest tight, my wolf restless.
"Tell me," I said finally, my voice low, dangerous. "Why was Darius after you?"
She flinched at the name. Subtle, but I caught it. Her hands gripped the blanket, knuckles white.
"I don't…" She stopped, swallowed, tried again. "I don't know exactly."
"Don't lie to me."
Her eyes snapped up, sharp despite the tremor in her voice. "I'm not lying. I just—" She broke off, pressing her lips together.
I growled, frustration cutting deep. "You don't almost get torn apart by rogues for no reason. They wanted you. He wanted you."
The firelight flickered across her face, casting shadows under her eyes. She looked younger like this, too fragile for the kind of danger she carried with her. But then she said, almost too quietly for me to hear:
"I was promised."
The words hit like a blade. I stilled. "Promised?"
She nodded slowly, her voice flat, like she was reciting something burned into her memory. "When I was a child, my family… they struck a bargain. I don't know all of it. They never told me. But I heard enough." Her gaze drifted to the fire, far away. "I was to be given to a pack. To a leader. Someone powerful enough to protect my bloodline. Or to use it."
My stomach turned cold. "Your bloodline."
Her eyes flickered to me, silver catching the firelight. For a moment, I felt that same electric pulse I'd felt in the clearing, when her howl had shattered the rogues.
She looked away quickly. "I thought I could run from it. But they've been hunting me ever since."
A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp and humorless. "And you stumbled straight into my territory."
Her head snapped toward me. "Your territory?"
I cursed myself for the slip. My fists clenched. "Doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does." Her voice rose, thin but cutting. "You're not just some outcast. I felt it, Kael. When you fought them. When you—" She hesitated, her throat working as her voice dropped. "When you protected me."
The bond surged between us again, hot and unyielding. My wolf howled, clawing at the walls I'd built, desperate to reach her, to claim what every instinct screamed was already mine.
I shoved back against it, my jaw tight, forcing the words out. "Don't confuse instinct for choice. Whatever curse runs in your blood, it's not my problem."
Her eyes glistened, but she didn't look away. She held my gaze like she could see through every lie I told myself.
"Maybe not," she whispered. "But something tells me… it's about to be."
The fire popped, spitting sparks. My wolf growled low in my chest. And for the first time in years, I couldn't shake the feeling that the walls of this cabin weren't strong enough to keep the world out anymore.
The fire burned low, shadows stretching long across the walls. I should've felt safer inside these four walls, but every instinct screamed otherwise. My wolf paced inside me, restless, teeth bared.
Elara sat curled on the bed, her body trembling from exhaustion, but her eyes—those silver eyes—never left me. Every time they caught mine, something in my chest shifted, something I didn't want to name.
I turned away, pouring water into a bowl, anything to keep my hands busy. "You need to rest."
Her voice came quiet, softer than before. "And you?"
I froze. She didn't need to say more. She'd seen the blood seeping through the bandage at my ribs, the stiffness in my shoulders, the way my wolf barely held together inside my skin.
"I'll live," I said finally.
But even as the words left me, my head snapped toward the window. My wolf had gone rigid. The forest outside was too quiet. No crickets. No owls. Just silence. Then—crack. A twig snapped just beyond the clearing.
Elara's eyes widened. "Kael—"
I was already moving. I yanked the curtain aside, scanning the tree line. Moonlight filtered through the pines, silver on silver, but nothing moved. Nothing I could see.
But I smelled it. Rogues. Too many. The stench of blood and hunger seeped into the cabin walls like smoke. My lip curled, a growl tearing from my chest before I could stop it.
Elara rose unsteadily from the bed, clutching the blanket around her. "They found us."
Her voice shook, but her eyes burned. She wasn't just afraid. She knew this moment was inevitable. I turned, locking my gaze on hers, the bond thrumming hot between us. "Stay behind me. No matter what."
Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue—but before she could, the first howl split the night. Low, guttural, answered by another. And another.
The sound closed in from every direction. I shifted, claws tearing through my skin, the cabin vibrating with the force of it. The walls wouldn't hold. Not against this.
The door rattled on its hinges. Elara gasped, stumbling back.
And then— The door splintered inward.