Kael
The stench of blood clung to me like a curse.
Every step away from the cabin made it stronger in my head, not weaker. It wasn't just on my skin, in my claws, in the air around us—it was in me. I could still taste it, still feel the snap of bone, the rip of flesh.
And worse, I could still hear her voice.
Elara.
The way she'd called me back when I'd been seconds from tearing her apart. The way her hands had touched me, steady when I was nothing but chaos. She should have run. She should have left me there to drown in the beast. Instead, she'd thrown herself straight into the fire.
Now she walked beside me through the dark forest, her scent brushing against my senses like smoke and honey. Too close. Always too close. My wolf paced inside me, pressing hard against the walls of my control, snarling at the thought of distance, demanding I claim her, keep her, never let her stray again.
But the man in me—the broken Alpha—knew better. I couldn't let her trust me. Not when I'd almost killed her. Not when I couldn't even trust myself.
"Keep moving," I muttered, sharper than I meant to. Her footsteps faltered, but she didn't argue. She hadn't said a word since we left the cabin.
The silence gnawed at me worse than any wound.
We moved fast, slipping through the underbrush, every sense on edge. The forest was alive with the whispers of night—owls, crickets, the rush of wind in the leaves—but beneath it, I listened for something else. The sound of pursuit. The stench of rogues on our trail. The unmistakable howl that would tell me we weren't alone.
I couldn't hear it yet, but I knew it was coming.
Elara stumbled over a root, catching herself against a tree. My gut clenched before I could stop it. I turned on her too fast, too harsh, grabbing her arm to steady her.
Her eyes lifted to mine, wide and luminous in the moonlight, searching me the way no one had in years.
"I'm fine," she whispered, though her hand lingered against mine longer than necessary.
The bond thrummed between us, alive, demanding.
I released her like she burned me. Turned away before I did something stupid. "We don't have time for fine. Keep moving."
Her silence pressed in again, thick and heavy.
But I felt it—the way her gaze stayed on me, the way the bond pulsed every time our steps fell in rhythm. She wasn't afraid anymore. Not of me. And that terrified me more than anything else. Because I wasn't sure I could keep her safe from what mattered most. Me.
By the time the first hints of dawn stained the sky, the forest broke open into a clearing I knew as well as the scars on my own skin.
The safehouse waited at its center, half-swallowed by moss and shadow. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than an abandoned hunter's shack, rotting wood leaning on itself, the door sagging off its hinges. To anyone else, it was nothing worth a second glance.
But to me, it was survival.
I led Elara forward, every step pulling old ghosts up from the dirt. I'd built this place years ago, after Darius cast me out, when the wilds were my only pack and solitude was my punishment. I hadn't set foot here in months, maybe longer, but it still smelled of smoke and sweat and ash—the life of an outcast carved into the bones of a shack.
Elara hesitated at the doorway, her nose wrinkling at the stale air. I ignored it and pushed inside, scanning the corners automatically. Empty. Safe.
"It's not much," I muttered, already moving. My hands found the places I'd hidden supplies years ago—rusted nails tucked into a loose floorboard, knives buried beneath the hearthstones, a bow strung too tight but still serviceable. I set them out one by one, my mind clicking into place, a rhythm I hadn't let myself fall into in too long.
Not Kael the exile. Not Kael the monster who couldn't control himself.
Kael the Alpha.
Elara stepped inside, her footsteps soft, eyes darting over every corner like she wasn't sure whether to sit or stand, whether to trust this ruin I'd called home. Her silence gnawed at me again.
"You should rest," I said without looking at her. My voice came out rougher than intended as I tested the edge of a blade. "We'll be moving again soon."
"And you?"
I glanced up. She was watching me, chin lifted, stubborn fire in her gaze. The exhaustion was there too—shadows beneath her eyes, dirt smudged across her cheek—but she held herself steady, unyielding.
"I don't rest," I said.
Her brows furrowed, like she wanted to argue. Instead, she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the rickety cot against the far wall. The bond pulsed again as she did, a tether pulling at me no matter how far I tried to stretch away.
I forced my focus back to the weapons, to the cracks in the walls, to the sound of the forest outside. This was what mattered—keeping her safe, even if it meant barricading the world out with my bare hands.
But when her voice finally broke the silence, soft and unguarded, it sliced through every wall I'd built.
"How long did you stay here?"
My grip tightened on the knife. For a moment, I didn't answer. The memories were too sharp, too raw. Nights spent alone with nothing but the howl of my wolf and the echo of Darius's betrayal. Days where I wondered if living was worth the fight.
"Too long," I said finally. My voice was flat, but she didn't look away.
Her eyes softened, and that—spirits help me—that was worse than pity. Because in her gaze, I saw something I hadn't seen in years. Not fear. Not disgust. Understanding. And it scared me more than any pack of rogues ever could.
The hours bled together inside the shack. I'd paced the perimeter twice, checked the tree line until my eyes blurred, and stacked what little firewood was left. My hands needed work, movement, anything to keep from giving in to the weight of her presence in the room.
But the silence broke me long before the forest did.
"You don't have to keep acting like I'm made of glass," Elara said finally, her voice quiet but edged.
I froze mid-step, shoulders knotting tight. "I'm not."
"You are," she countered, and damn her, there was no hesitation in it. She shifted on the cot, swinging her legs down so she sat straighter, staring at me like she wasn't afraid of the storm she was about to call down. "Ever since the cabin, you've barely looked at me. You won't sit. You won't rest. You won't—"
"You don't understand." The words came out harsher than I intended, snapping through the stale air like a whip. My wolf surged at the rise in my voice, restless, hungry, pressing close to the surface. I dragged a breath through my teeth, tried to cage him, but the memory of almost losing control still burned too raw.
Her chin lifted, stubborn as ever. "Then explain it."
I turned away, jaw locked, staring at the shadows creeping across the cracked walls. "I almost killed you."
The admission scraped out of me like broken glass, raw and ugly. I hadn't planned to say it, hadn't wanted her to hear the truth so plain, but there it was. Hanging between us.
She didn't flinch. She didn't shrink back like she should have. She stood, crossing the creaking floorboards, and before I could step back she was right there—close enough that her scent wrapped around me like wildfire.
"And yet," she said softly, eyes burning into mine, "you didn't."
The bond pulsed, fierce and undeniable, snapping tight in my chest. My wolf pushed forward, howling his agreement, aching to close the space, to claim what was already his. My hands twitched with the urge to touch her, to drag her against me and drown in her until the fear and guilt didn't matter.
But I couldn't.
I snarled and stepped back, putting space between us like it was the only thing keeping her alive. "You think you're safe with me, Elara, but you're not. You're safer without me. You should run as far as you can while you still have the chance."
Her expression didn't waver. If anything, her gaze sharpened, cutting straight through me.
"No," she said simply.
The single word landed like a blow. I stared at her, fighting the growl clawing at my throat. "You don't understand what I am."
"Then show me," she whispered. "Because all I see is the one who dragged me out of hell, the one who stood between me and death when no one else would. If that's a monster—then I'll take the monster over the men who left me behind."
Her words cracked something in me I didn't want touched. The bond surged again, hot and unrelenting, and for a heartbeat I almost let it win.
Almost.
I turned away sharply, shoving the knife back into its sheath just to keep my hands busy. "You don't know what you're saying."
But her voice followed me, steady and unyielding.
"Yes, I do. I'm not leaving you, Kael. Not now. Not ever."
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It thrummed with everything unspoken between us, everything I couldn't give voice to without tearing us both apart.
And deep inside, my wolf lifted his head, satisfied.
The night stretched long and merciless. I sat with my back against the wall, knife balanced across my knees, staring at the fire I'd coaxed into life in the hearth. The flames didn't warm me. Nothing had in years.
Elara hadn't moved since our argument. She sat on the cot, her shoulders squared, her chin stubbornly lifted. She was still here. Still choosing to stay even after every warning I'd thrown at her.
The weight of that choice gnawed at me.
"You're asking for death," I said finally, breaking the silence. My voice was low, rough. "Do you understand that?"
Her eyes found mine, steady. "Then explain why."
For a long moment, I didn't answer. My wolf snarled against the cage of my chest, wanting to keep everything hidden, to guard our secrets. But she was already caught in this storm because of me. Because of the bond neither of us asked for.
I exhaled sharply. "Rogues don't move the way they used to. Not in scattered packs. Not in ones or twos. They're gathering."
Her brows knit. "Gathering?"
I nodded, jaw tight. "Something—or someone—is pulling them together. They hunt with purpose now, coordinated. And they're not just targeting the weak anymore. They're sniffing out power. Bloodlines. Threats."
Her breath caught, quiet but sharp. "Like you."
"Like us," I corrected, the word leaving my mouth before I could stop it. Her gaze flickered, but I pressed on. "Darius isn't the only one out there with his eyes on me. And now… on you."
She shifted, fingers curling in the blanket beneath her, but she didn't look away. "Because of the bond?"
"No." I shook my head, staring into the fire. "Because of you."
Her heartbeat spiked—I could hear it, feel it through the bond like a drumbeat against my ribs.
"You're not just an omega, Elara." My voice was harsh, clipped, the truth scraping out of me. "What you did back there—stopping me, pulling me back when no one else could—that wasn't chance. That wasn't luck. Power like that…" My throat tightened around the words. "It's rare. Dangerous. And every Alpha who catches even a whisper of it will come for you."
Her eyes widened, but not with fear. No—something else sparked there. Defiance. Determination.
"You think that scares me?" she asked.
"It should." My growl was low, unsteady. "Because once they know, they'll never stop. Darius wants me broken, but the others? They'll want you caged. Used. Claimed."
Her lips parted, and for the first time, I saw the tremor of doubt in her. Not because she feared the threat. But because she understood it.
Still, her voice held when she spoke again. "Then let them come."
The fire snapped between us, spitting embers. And the bond coiled tighter, hotter, as if sealing her words into fate.
The fire burned low, hissing every so often as sap bled from the logs. The smell of smoke curled through the shack, sharp and grounding, but my wolf stayed restless, pacing behind my ribs.
Something was wrong. The forest had gone too quiet.
I leaned forward, setting the knife aside, letting my senses stretch past the shack walls. The night carried no bird calls, no scurry of prey, no whisper of wind in the trees. Just silence. Heavy, unnatural silence.
Elara shifted on the cot, her voice cautious. "What is it?"
I held up a hand, listening. The hair at the back of my neck bristled. The quiet pressed closer, suffocating, like the whole forest was holding its breath. And then I caught it—the faintest trace on the wind.
Wolf.
Not Darius's. Not any scent I knew. But strong. Sharp. The kind of presence that crawled beneath the skin and demanded attention.
My hands curled into fists. "We're not alone."
Elara stiffened, her heartbeat quickening in my chest through the bond. "Darius?"
"No." My voice was grim, certain. "Someone else."
I rose to my feet, grabbing the bow I'd stashed by the hearth. My muscles were already taut, every nerve alive with the instinct to protect. Whoever it was, they weren't here by accident. Rogues didn't move like this. This was too precise. Too deliberate.
I glanced at Elara, her eyes wide but steady. She wasn't the same girl I'd first pulled from the edge of death. There was steel in her now, burning brighter every time someone tried to snuff it out.
Still, I couldn't risk her. Not with what I felt circling us in the dark.
"Stay close to me," I said. My tone left no room for argument.
Her lips parted, like she wanted to push back, but then the night answered for us both.
A howl split the silence.
Deep. Commanding. A sound that shook the air itself, crawling straight into the marrow of my bones.
An Alpha's howl.
But not Darius's.
My blood iced over, my wolf surging in recognition of the challenge woven into the sound. This was no rogue. This was someone who wanted us to hear him. Someone who wanted us to know.
Elara's gaze snapped to mine, fear and fire warring in her eyes.
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
I tightened my grip on the bow, my chest aching with the truth I didn't want to give voice to.
"It means," I said, my voice low and sharp, "Darius isn't the only Alpha hunting us."
The fire guttered, throwing shadows across the walls as the forest answered with silence again. Waiting.
And in my chest, the bond throbbed like a war drum.