Chapter 3: The Forest and the Stranger

Branches clawed at Alex’s arms as she ran. The cold bit into her lungs, turning each breath into fire. Her bare feet struck roots and rocks, but she didn’t feel the pain — not really. The beating, the rejection, the years of silence and cruelty had already numbed everything.
But her wolf kept her moving.
Do not stop, the voice urged.
Not here. Not where they can take us back.
The trees grew denser. The forest thickened. The sounds of the pack house faded behind her. The more distance she put between herself and them, the lighter her chest became — until finally, her body gave out.
Her knees buckled, and she crashed into the cold earth.
Snow flurries drifted through the branches overhead, catching in her hair. Her breaths were ragged, her heartbeat uneven. She curled her arms around herself and trembled.
I don’t… I can’t…
Yes, her wolf whispered, firm but gentle.
You can. You are not alone anymore.
Alex closed her eyes.
The forest had never felt so quiet.
Until—
A twig snapped.
Her body tensed. Panic surged.
They followed me. They’re going to drag me back. They’ll kill Sibyl. They’ll—
But the scent that drifted toward her wasn’t Silver Moon.
It was something else.
Warm. Strong. Old. Like cedarwood at night and smoke from a fire that’s never gone out.
Footsteps approached. Slow. Controlled. Not hunting. Not threatening.
A deep voice spoke.
“Don’t move. You’re hurt.”
Alex flinched, dragging herself back across the snow. Her vision blurred, but she fought to focus.
A tall figure stepped into view.
Broad shoulders. Long dark hair tied back. Eyes so deep and steady they seemed carved from winter night. He wore a cloak of thick fur and clothing built for the wild — not polished like the pack she came from.
He crouched down, lowering himself to her level — not towering, not intimidating.
Seeing her pain.
Seeing her.
“You’re afraid,” he said softly. “I’m not here to harm you.”
Alex tried to speak but her throat felt raw.
He noticed. His jaw tightened — not with anger, but with concern.
“My name is Aeron Black,” he said.
“Alpha of the Night Fang Pack.”
Alex’s breath hitched.
Night Fang.
A pack known to be powerful. Untouched. Unchallenged. Their wolves were stories told to scare children and impress warriors. A pack that didn’t bow to anyone.
Aeron’s eyes studied her face — the bruises, the cuts, the fear she was trying so hard to bury.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Alex shook her head violently — not out of loyalty to Silver Moon, but out of terror of repeating the truth.
Aeron didn’t push.
Instead, he shrugged off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. The warmth hit her like sunlight. She inhaled sharply, eyes closing against the overwhelming gentleness of the gesture.
“No one,” she croaked. “It doesn’t matter.”
Aeron held her gaze.
“It matters to me.”
Something inside her cracked.
Not like the breaking earlier under Rex’s rejection — but something quieter. Fragile. A door opening instead of slamming shut.
Her wolf whispered again.
Mate.
Alex’s heart stopped.
No. No. No. Not again. Not another bond to trap her. To break her.
But Aeron’s scent—
The warmth—
The way her wolf leaned toward him instead of trembling—
It wasn’t like Rex.
It wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t cruel.
It was steady.
Safe.
Aeron’s eyes widened just slightly — the only sign that he felt it too.
But he didn’t claim her.
Didn’t touch her.
Didn’t speak the bond aloud.
He just held out his hand.
“Let me help you up,” he murmured. “If you want. Only if you want.”
Alex stared at his hand.
Her entire life, she had never been given a choice.
She took it.
And the world shifted.