The forest was alive at night, pulsing with the kind of energy that made even seasoned wolves tread carefully. The moon cast silver shadows across the earth. Hidden among the trees, two figures moved silently.
They weren't part of Kael's pack.
And they weren't friendly.
"He has her," the taller one growled, his voice rough with suppressed fury. "I saw her with my own eyes. The mute girl survived."
The other a leaner, older man snorted. "Survived the rogues and made it into Nightfang territory? She's either very lucky or very useful."
A low snarl followed. "She's mine. That little freak still belongs to me."
The older man leaned against a tree, arms crossed. "She's not yours anymore, Ronan. You rejected her, remember?"
"That doesn't change anything." Ronan's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "She was supposed to die after the ceremony. Instead, she's out there, breathing my air like she matters. Like she's someone."
"You sound scared."
Ronan bared his teeth. "I'm not scared. But if she tells anyone what really happened that night, it won't just be my secret exposed. The Alpha Council doesn't take kindly to betrayal."
The older man considered that, tapping his fingers against his arm. "So what do we do?"
Ronan's answer was immediate. "We watch. We wait. And when the time's right…"
A wicked grin curled his lips.
"We silence her. For good this time."
Back at the Nightfang camp, Aria woke with a jolt.
She didn't know what had disturbed her only that her heart was racing and her skin felt prickly, as though danger had brushed by her in the night. She sat upright in bed, listening.
Silence.
The room was untouched. The door was still closed. But her instincts whispered otherwise.
Still, after a few minutes, the sensation faded. She tucked it away, chalking it up to a lingering nightmare.
By the time the sun rose, she was already dressed and outside, walking the perimeter path around the camp with measured steps. Kael had told her she didn't need to prove anything.
But she wanted to.
The training fields were already buzzing when she arrived. This time, Kael himself was at the center, sparring with two of his warriors while a crowd watched in anticipation.
Aria paused at the edge, eyes fixed on him.
Kael fought like he was born for it fluid, fast, and calculating. Every movement was precise, no wasted energy. Even when outnumbered, he never faltered. His dark hair was damp with sweat, shirt clinging to his chest as he twisted and landed a clean blow on the taller of the two opponents.
The crowd murmured in approval as the warrior staggered back, grinning breathlessly.
Kael caught Aria's gaze across the field.
For a moment, something passed between them, an unspoken acknowledgment.
He dismissed the warriors and walked toward her, rolling his shoulder.
"You're early," he said, his breath still steady despite the fight.
Aria tapped her wrist, mimicking the shape of a rising sun.
Kael huffed a quiet laugh. "You really do learn fast."
She gave a slight shrug, then gestured to herself and made the sign for "train?"
Kael nodded. "Let's go."
Their training was different from Sera's. Where Sera focused on physical strength and technique, Kael emphasized awareness, control, and strategy.
"Your silence is an advantage," he told her as they moved through defensive drills. "You don't rely on sound, and that forces you to watch. That makes you harder to trick."
Aria nodded, sweat rolling down the side of her face.
"Most people miss what's right in front of them," he continued, demonstrating a quick feint that left her off-balance. "They get distracted. You don't."
It was strange—being praised.
She didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. But she held his gaze for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.
He didn't press her.
Later, as she wiped down her arms with a damp cloth, Sera approached from the edge of the training yard.
"You made it through two sessions today," she noted. "That's more than most do in a week."
Aria signed a quick "thank you."
Sera studied her for a moment. "You're not weak, Aria. Whatever your last pack thought… they were wrong."
Then she turned and left, her voice lingering like a balm.
That evening, Aria found herself drawn to the small library hut near the northern ridge of the camp.
She hadn't expected to find much in a place built for warriors and patrols but inside was a small collection of worn books, maps, and scrolls. She ran her fingers over the spines, picking up a faded volume on pack histories.
As she flipped through the pages, she found sketches of ancient wolves—stories of Luna-blessed warriors, blood-bound fates, and battles that shaped the five major territories.
One phrase caught her eye:
"The mate bond can heal even the deepest scars—but only if accepted."
Her fingers trembled slightly.
She shut the book and hugged it to her chest, wondering if such a thing could be true… or if it was just another fairy tale whispered to pups before bed.
She wouldn't know. No one had ever told her bedtime stories.
Across the camp, Kael stood near the watchtower, speaking in hushed tones with Sera.
"She's adjusting faster than I expected," he said.
Sera crossed her arms. "She's got grit. But something's still haunting her."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You saw the bruises. The way she flinched the first night."
"I saw," Sera replied. "But she's not afraid of us. That means something."
Kael exhaled, his voice low. "I think she was rejected. At a ceremony."
Sera stiffened. "You're sure?"
He nodded. "She carries it like a scar."
Sera's eyes darkened. "Then someone out there made a mistake they're going to regret."
Kael looked toward the cabin in the distance, where a faint glow still flickered through the window.
"She's stronger than she knows," he said quietly. "And I intend to make sure she never feels powerless again."
But in the shadows of the trees, far beyond the safe walls of Nightfang territory, Ronan sharpened his blade and whispered Aria's name like a curse.
"She's not special," he snarled to the night. "She's nothing."
But deep inside, something twisted.
Because despite everything… a part of him knew.
He had let something extraordinary slip through his fingers.
And if he couldn't have her…
No one would.