The moon hung low, casting silver over the forest as Nightfang settled into its evening rhythm. Warriors patrolled the perimeter, children played under the watch of their elders, and somewhere in the shadows, Aria stood at the edge of the clearing alone, but not hiding.
She watched the trees with a quiet that unnerved even the most seasoned warriors. As if she were waiting for something to step out.
Kael found her there.
"You didn't come to dinner," he said quietly.
She didn't look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the tree line.
I wasn't hungry, she signed without turning.
He stepped closer. "You sense him, don't you?"
She hesitated. Then slowly nodded.
Kael's jaw tightened. "We'll reinforce the perimeter tonight. I don't want you walking alone"
Aria turned to him sharply, eyes fierce.
I'm not a prey.
The words struck him with unexpected force.
"No," he said finally, voice low. "You're not."
Later that night, Aria lay awake in the small cabin Kael had built for her walls of thick pine, the scent of the forest clinging to every beam of the cabin. A soft breeze passing through the half-open window.
She stared at the ceiling.
She hadn't told him everything.
Not about the nightmares.
Not about the blood.
Not about the way Ronan's voice still echoed in her skull like a curse that never lifted.
You were made for me. You belong to me. You'll never escape me.
She squeezed her eyes shut and curled onto her side, clutching the blanket like armor.
But the silence outside grew too loud. And the air too still.
Outside the gates, Ronan moved like a shadow among trees, his wolves following in total silence.
He crouched behind a fallen tree, eyes glowing faintly.
"She's still inside," one scout whispered.
Ronan didn't respond at first. His attention was fixed on a glowing cabin window at the edge of Nightfang's territory.
"Is it her?"
"Yes. Alone."
Ronan's lips curled into a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
"Good."
He stood slowly.
"Let them believe she's safe," he murmured. "Let her believe it."
Back inside, Kael couldn't sleep.
Something twisted in his chest every time he thought of Aria—so small in that bed, facing shadows alone while he tried to maintain control over a pack barely holding its structure.
He stepped out into the cold night air, wind blowing through his shirt.
"Alpha," came Sera's voice from the patrol tower. "We've got motion."
Kael looked up sharply.
"South ridge," she said. "No breach, but… the wolves are restless. They're picking up something. Someone."
He didn't need to ask who.
"Double the guard," Kael ordered. "And send word to the inner circle."
Sera nodded. "What about Aria?"
He paused.
"I'll go to her."
She heard the knock before she smelled him.
Kael stepped inside slowly, not wanting to startle her. He carried a small bag in one hand.
"Sorry for the late visit," he said.
She shrugged and motioned to the chair.
He sat, setting the bag down between them.
"I brought you this," he said, pulling out a carefully wrapped bundle. Inside was a simple carved charm wood shaped like a half-moon, etched with runes.
"It's a tracker," he explained. "And a protection spell. Old magic. Sera's grandmother used to make them."
She picked it up gently, tracing the edges.
"I want you to wear it. Please."
She didn't sign anything. Just nodded once and looped it onto the string around her neck.
He exhaled like a tension had finally eased.
A storm rolled in before midnight.
Thunder cracked across the sky as rain lashed the trees.
Aria stood by the window, watching lightning slash through the dark.
Kael had returned to the barracks, reluctantly, but she could still feel his presence like a weight pressed just beyond her reach.
And then—
A sound.
Not thunder.
Not wind.
A footstep.
Slow. Measured. Too close.
Aria moved like a whisper to the door, dagger in hand.
The cabin creaked under the weight of movement outside.
Another step.
She opened the door silently, stepping into the storm.
Nothing but rain.
But she felt it. Him.
Ronan watched from beyond the tree line, cloaked in shadow.
So bold, he thought.
So brave now.
He admired it, in a twisted way. The fire in her. The spine and nerve she'd found in the ruins of her silence.
But it wouldn't save her.
"Soon," he whispered, retreating into the woods.
The next morning, Kael found a mark burned into the base of the cabin porch—a claw dragged deep through the wood.
"Last night," Aria signed, pointing to it.
Kael touched the gouge. His lips drew into a hard line.
"He's toying with us."
She stepped back, fists clenched.
Kael looked at her. "He wants you scared."
She met his gaze.
I'm not.
His eyes softened just a little. "I know."
Training intensified.
Kael brought in two of his best warriors to work with Aria: Lina, a whip-fast omega with a tongue sharper than steel, and Toben, a quiet mountain of a man who never missed a strike.
Together, they pushed Aria harder than ever.
She didn't complain. She didn't cry. She learned.
Every bruise, every breathless collapse, was a lesson. A weapon added to her growing arsenal.
Lina handed her a staff one morning and smirked. "You've got the reflexes of a dead squirrel, but I like your grit and confidence."
Aria grinned, surprising even herself.
By week's end, even Sera had to admit: the girl has fast improvement and reflexes.
"She's improving fast," Sera said during a meeting in the war room. "Ronan won't be expecting that."
"He won't care," Kael said. "He's not coming to test her strength. He's coming to punish her."
Silence fell.
"She doesn't want to run," Sera said finally.
Kael nodded. "And I won't make her."
That night, Aria lit a single candle and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She saw shadows under her eyes. A faint scar near her temple. Muscle where there used to be softness.
But the girl in the mirror wasn't broken anymore.
She touched the charm at her neck.
Then she turned away and didn't look back.