Exile was quieter than I expected.
Not peaceful—never that—but empty. Sound died quickly beyond the pack borders, swallowed by the forest like it had never existed. No sentries. No watchtowers. No Alpha's presence pressing down on every breath.
Just trees.
And cold.
I walked until my legs burned and my chest ached—not from pain anymore, but from something heavier. The bond had gone quiet after dawn, retreating into a dull throb that sat beneath my ribs like a bruise. Not gone. Never gone.
Muted.
Which was somehow worse.
My cloak was thin. Meant for formality, not survival. Every step farther from the pack stripped something from me—status, name, safety—until all that remained was flesh, bone, and instinct.
My wolf paced silently now.
Not frantic.
Alert.
We are not prey, she murmured.
The forest shifted.
I felt it before I saw it—the way birds went silent, the way the air thickened, the way my skin prickled with awareness that had nothing to do with the mate bond.
Someone was watching me.
I stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, I turned.
Nothing.
Just towering trees and underbrush dark enough to swallow secrets. My breath fogged in the cold air. I forced myself not to panic, not to run. Running made you prey.
"Show yourself," I said, surprised my voice didn't shake.
Silence answered.
Then—
A step.
Heavy. Unapologetic. Close enough that I should have heard it sooner, but hadn't.
A man emerged from between the trees like the forest itself had decided to take shape.
He was tall—taller than the Alpha—and built like something carved for violence. Dark hair hung loose around his shoulders, catching moonlight that hadn't yet fully faded. His clothes were worn, functional, marked by travel and battle. No pack crest. No colors.
Rogue.
My body reacted before my mind did.
A sharp inhale.A spike of awareness that rolled straight through my core.
Not heat.
Something else.
His eyes locked onto mine—golden, bright, hungry—and I felt it.
Interest.
Not polite. Not restrained.
Real.
My wolf rose inside me, ears forward.
This one does not bow, she observed.
"Lost?" he asked.
His voice was low, roughened by disuse, like he didn't bother speaking unless he meant it. He didn't move closer. Didn't lower his gaze. Didn't bare his throat in submission the way pack wolves did when meeting a stranger.
He assessed me like an equal.
"I was exiled," I said.
The word tasted bitter, but I didn't soften it.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Understanding.
Then anger.
Not directed at me.
"At the pack," he said flatly.
It wasn't a question.
I nodded once.
He inhaled slowly—and I realized he was scenting me.
Mate bond. Pain. Alpha. Rejection.
His jaw tightened.
"Figures," he muttered.
I stiffened. "You don't know anything about—"
"I know the smell," he cut in. "And I know what kind of Alpha throws away a bonded wolf."
The bond pulsed at the insult.
Not mine.
His.
Through the fractured connection, I felt it—irritation, sharp and sudden, like claws scraping stone.
The Alpha.
Watching.
Listening.
My breath caught.
The rogue noticed.
His gaze sharpened, cutting through me with startling precision.
"He still feels you," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
My throat went dry.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then—slow, deliberate—he took a step closer.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
The distance between us closed until I could see the faint scar cutting across his collarbone, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if restraining a natural urge to touch, to claim space.
"You should be dead," he said.
My heart stuttered.
"But you're not."
Another step.
"Which tells me two things."
I forced myself not to back away.
"One," he continued, voice dropping, "you're stronger than they think."
The air between us tightened, charged with something dangerous and alive.
"And two," he said softly, "you don't belong on your knees."
The words hit harder than the rejection had.
My wolf surged.
Not in submission.
In agreement.
The bond flared violently—not pain, but rage. Somewhere miles away, the Alpha's control cracked just enough for me to feel it.
Possessive fury.
Jealousy.
The rogue's lips twitched.
"Oh," he murmured. "He doesn't like that."
I swallowed. "You're enjoying this."
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe I just don't like bullies."
He reached out—not touching me, but close enough that heat radiated from his skin. Close enough that my senses went haywire, skin humming, awareness sharpening to a painful edge.
"Come with me," he said.
I hesitated.
Not because I didn't want to.
But because I did.
"What's your name?" I asked.
He studied me for a long moment, then answered.
"Kael."
The name settled into my bones.
Strong. Dangerous. Unclaimed.
"I won't kneel," I said quietly.
His smile was slow and wolfish.
"Good," he replied. "Neither do I."
Behind us, the forest shifted again—another presence stirring, distant but unmistakable. Something older. Colder.
The bond pulsed once more, warning and want tangled together.
And for the first time since the rejection, I realized something profound.
I was no longer alone.
And the Alpha who cast me aside?
He was about to learn what it meant to lose control.
Kael's gaze dragged over me like I was something he'd found on the road and hadn't yet decided whether to step around—or kick.
"You're shaking," he said.
I stiffened. "I'm not."
A lie. And he knew it.
He snorted softly, unimpressed. "Sure you are. Still carrying pack weakness in your bones."
That did it.
My spine straightened, heat flaring—not the bond, not desire, but anger. "You don't know anything about me."
His eyes flicked up, sharp and assessing, then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not loud. Not amused. Just a short, derisive breath like I'd said something incredibly stupid.
"Every wolf thinks that," he said. "Until the world proves otherwise."
He turned away without warning and started walking, boots crunching against frost-laced leaves like he'd already decided the conversation was over.
I stared at his back. "Where are you going?"
"Forward," he replied, not bothering to look back. "You can stay here if you want. Freeze. Get eaten. Makes no difference to me."
The arrogance hit like a slap.
"You invited me," I snapped.
He stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head just enough that I could see the sharp cut of his jaw and the faint curl of his lip.
"No," he corrected. "I offered you a direction. Big difference."
My wolf bristled.
I don't like him.
For once, I agreed with her completely.
"And what makes you think I'd follow you?" I demanded.
Kael finally turned fully, golden eyes locking onto mine with open disdain. "Because you're tired, unarmed, and bleeding pack-scent like a beacon. And because you don't have a better option."
The truth stung worse than his tone.
He stepped closer—too close—invading my space without apology. I could feel the heat of him now, not comforting, not grounding. Heavy. Overbearing.
"You think exile makes you special?" he asked quietly. "Out here, it just makes you vulnerable."
My jaw clenched. "You don't scare me."
Another laugh. Lower this time. Meaner.
"Good," he said. "Fear makes people boring."
Through the bond, something snapped.
A violent pulse surged through my chest—hot, furious, possessive.
The Alpha.
I staggered slightly, breath hitching before I could stop it.
Kael noticed instantly.
His eyes lit with something ugly and satisfied.
"There it is," he murmured. "He's listening."
I hated him in that moment.
Hated the way he leaned back casually, like he'd just struck a nerve on purpose. Hated the way he tilted his head, attention sharpening—not on me, but on the invisible thread tying me to the man who'd rejected me.
"He doesn't like me standing this close," Kael said. "Does he?"
My hands curled into fists. "Stop."
"Why?" Kael asked. "He didn't stop when he threw you away."
The bond flared again, raw and furious, and this time I felt something else layered beneath the Alpha's anger.
Jealousy.
Kael smiled.
A slow, deliberate, infuriating smile.
"Oh, I like this," he said. "You're useful."
I took a step back. "I'm not a tool."
"No," he agreed lazily. "Tools get respected. You're leverage."
The words landed hard.
My wolf snarled, hackles rising. If he tries to dominate—
"I'm not part of your games," I said coldly.
Kael's gaze flicked to my throat, my wrists, the way my body still reacted too easily to pressure and proximity. Then he shrugged.
"Everyone's part of something," he said. "You just don't get to choose when it starts."
He turned again and walked off, clearly expecting me to follow.
I didn't.
"Hey," I called after him. "You don't get to order me around."
He stopped—but this time, when he looked back, his expression was flat. Uninterested.
"I don't order," he said. "I move. People keep up or get left behind."
Silence stretched between us.
The forest creaked. Something far away howled.
Cold seeped deeper into my bones.
Finally, I took a step forward.
Not because he'd won.
Because I refused to die proving a point.
Kael didn't look back when he heard my footsteps.
"Don't slow me down," he said. "And don't expect protection."
"Then why bring me?" I shot back.
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes hard.
"Because," he said, "watching you survive will piss him off more than watching you break."
The bond screamed in response.
The Alpha's fury surged so violently it made my vision blur for half a second.
Kael noticed.
Of course he did.
His mouth curved, sharp and cruel.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I thought so."
I followed him deeper into the forest with my jaw set and my trust already in ashes.
Whatever Kael was—
He wasn't a savior.
He wasn't a protector.
And if he thought he could use me without consequences—
He was about to learn I wasn't as weak as everyone seemed to think.