Elizabeth's paws pounded against the forest floor, the rhythm of her flight drowning out the howls echoing in the distance. The western woods stretched endlessly before her, a tangle of shadows and thorns that tore at her silver fur. Her wolf form carried her swiftly, but her heart was heavy, each beat a reminder of Herod's cold words: I reject Elizabeth as my luna and mate. The punishment for treachery is death. The mate bond, once a warm pulse of connection, now burned like a wound, twisting with every memory of his amber eyes and the love they had shared.
She slowed, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she reached a small clearing. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting silver streaks across the grass. Elizabeth shifted back to her human form, her body trembling from exertion and emotion. She sank to her knees, the small pack of supplies Mara had given her slipping from her shoulder. The forest was quiet, save for the distant rustle of leaves and the faint howl of a pursuing warrior. They were coming for her, Herod's warriors, loyal to his command. She had to keep moving, but the weight of his rejection anchored her to the ground.
Elizabeth pressed her hands to her chest, as if she could hold the fragments of her heart together. She saw Herod's face in her mind—the way he'd smiled when they ran together through these very woods, their wolves weaving through the trees in perfect harmony. They had been mates, bound by the moon's sacred choice, their bond a promise of forever. She remembered the night he'd first called her his luna, his voice soft as he traced her cheek under the stars. "You're my strength, Elizabeth," he'd said. "The pack will thrive with you by my side." How could that Herod, the one who loved her, believe she'd betray him?
The accusation stung anew. A stranger in her chambers, a setup so perfectly timed that Herod had walked in at the worst moment. Elizabeth had fought the intruder, her claws slashing through the darkness, but he'd vanished before she could pin him down. By the time Herod burst in, all he saw was her disheveled state, the bed in disarray, and the scent of an outsider lingering in the air. She'd tried to explain, but his eyes had been blind with rage, his trust shattered. "You were caught in bed with a rogue," he'd said, and the pack had believed him.
Tears stung Elizabeth's eyes, but she wiped them away, her jaw tightening. She wasn't a traitor. Someone had orchestrated this, someone who wanted her gone—out of Herod's life, out of the pack. But who? And why? The questions swirled, fueling her resolve. She wouldn't let Herod's judgment define her. She would find the truth, even if it meant facing the wilderness alone.
Elizabeth opened the pack Mara had given her, her fingers brushing over a small knife, a waterskin, and a cloak. Mara's loyalty had been a lifeline, a reminder that not everyone in the pack had turned against her. "Find the truth, Elizabeth," Mara had said. "Come back and clear your name." The words echoed in her mind, a beacon in the darkness. Elizabeth pulled the cloak around her shoulders, its warmth a faint comfort against the chill of the night.
The howls grew closer, sharp and urgent. Elizabeth's senses sharpened, her wolf stirring within her. She couldn't stay here. The western woods were vast, but Herod's warriors were relentless, their tracking skills honed by years of protecting the pack. She stood, her legs unsteady but her determination firm. Mara had mentioned a rogue camp, a place where outcasts might offer shelter. It was a risk—rogues were unpredictable, often cast out for crimes or defiance—but it was her only chance.
Elizabeth shifted back into her wolf form, her silver fur blending with the moonlight. She moved swiftly, weaving through the trees, her ears pricked for any sign of pursuit. The forest was alive with sounds—crickets chirping, an owl's soft hoot, the rustle of a deer fleeing deeper into the woods. But beneath it all, she felt a presence, a faint prickle at the back of her neck. Someone—or something—was watching her.
She paused by a stream, its water glinting like liquid silver. Kneeling in her human form, Elizabeth cupped her hands and drank, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. As she straightened, a shadow moved in the trees across the stream. Her heart raced, and she crouched, her hand reaching for the knife in her pack. "Show yourself," she called, her voice steady despite the fear curling in her chest.
The shadow stepped forward, revealing a tall figure cloaked in dark furs. His eyes glinted in the moonlight, sharp and wary, but not hostile. "You're far from home, pack wolf," he said, his voice low and rough. "And you're running from something."
Elizabeth gripped the knife tighter, her stance defensive. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And why are you following me?"
The stranger raised his hands, showing they were empty. "I'm no threat to you, Elizabeth," he said, and her blood ran cold at the sound of her name. "Word travels fast, even in the wild. The pack's talking about their rejected luna, accused of treachery."
Her throat tightened. "You know nothing about me," she said, but her voice wavered. "If you're one of Herod's spies, you're wasting your time. I'm innocent."
The stranger's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "I'm no spy. I'm a rogue, cast out long ago. And I know a setup when I hear one." He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. "The western woods aren't kind to lone wolves, especially one with a price on her head. You need allies."
Elizabeth's grip on the knife didn't loosen. "Why should I trust you?" she asked. "For all I know, you're working with whoever framed me."
The rogue's eyes softened, a flicker of something like pity crossing his face. "Because I've been where you are," he said. "Betrayed, cast out, left to survive on my own. I don't know your story, Elizabeth, but I know the look of someone fighting for their life. Let me help you."
Her heart pounded, torn between suspicion and desperation. The howls of Herod's warriors were closer now, their calls cutting through the night. She had no time to hesitate. "If you're lying," she said, her voice low, "I'll tear your throat out myself."
The rogue nodded, unfazed. "Fair enough. Follow me, and stay quiet. The camp's not far."
Elizabeth hesitated, the mate bond still tugging at her, a painful reminder of Herod. She saw his face again, the coldness in his eyes as he'd rejected her. The pain was raw, but it fueled her. She wouldn't let his judgment be her end. With a final glance at the stream, she nodded to the rogue and followed him into the shadows.
They moved swiftly, the rogue leading her through a maze of trees and rocky outcrops. The howls faded, the warriors' pursuit thrown off by the winding path. Elizabeth's mind raced, replaying every moment in the great hall—Herod's accusation, the pack's murmurs, the stranger in her chambers. She didn't know who to trust, not the rogue, not even herself, but she knew she couldn't stop. The truth was out there, hidden in the shadows of the pack she'd once called home.
As they reached a hidden clearing, the rogue paused, his eyes scanning the darkness. "The camp's just ahead," he whispered. "Stay close, Elizabeth. Not all rogues are as friendly as me."
She nodded, her wolf senses alert, her heart still aching for Herod but burning with a new fire. She was no longer just his mate, his luna. She was Elizabeth, a survivor, and she would fight for her truth, no matter the cost.