Chapter 5- The Cave Beneath The Moon

Taken back by what Cade just uttered, Samantha stood still.

“He wouldn’t.”

“He would,” Cade said, softer now, his voice trembling with something that wasn’t quite anger. “He’s already been questioned for letting you stay this long. If they think you brought danger to the borders again…”

His words trailed off, but she understood.

Cade’s hand tousled his hair then fell away. “We stay here till dawn,” he said, stepping back. “Then we go home. Together.”

Samantha nodded, though her pulse still thundered in her ears.

Outside, the moon hung low and full, and somewhere in the woods, a lone wolf howled, mournful, beautiful. The sound made her chest ache.

For the first time, she didn’t know if the wolf was calling for her or warning her.

The quiet stretched, heavy and fragile. Cade sat near the mouth of the cave, the silver light from outside tracing the sharp lines of his face. He looked strong and I bothered but Samantha had known him too long to be fooled. His jaw was too tight, his movements too careful. It reminded her of the times he got injured during training when they were younger.

When he shifted slightly, she saw the dark stains along his sleeve.

“Cade,” she said softly, “you’re bleeding.”

He followed her gaze and frowned as if noticing it for the first time. “It’s nothing. Just scratches.”

“Scratches get infected,” she said firmly. “Especially after fighting that… thing.”

He huffed. “You sound like the pack nurse.”

“I sound like someone who doesn’t want you dying of stubbornness.”

Cade tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You think I’m stubborn?”

“I know you are.”

Before he could reply, she rose to her feet and crouched beside the small leather bag resting near the cave wall. She untied the flap and rummaged through it, her fingers brushing over folded fabric, a spare cloak, and a few small vials wrapped in cloth.

“There has to be something useful here,” she muttered.

“Sam, really—”

“Don’t argue with me.”

Her tone left no room for debate. She pulled out a small tin of salve and a strip of clean linen. When she turned, Cade was watching her quietly, his eyes following every movement she made.

“Take off the shirt,” she said, kneeling beside him.

He blinked. “What?”

“I need to clean the wound properly. Unless you want me to tear the fabric.”

He hesitated, searching her face, then sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers were slow, reluctant, and when the fabric finally slipped off his shoulders, Samantha had to remind herself to breathe.

The moonlight brushed over his skin, over the faint scars, the fresh cuts along his arm, the bruise darkening near his ribs. She’d seen him train countless times, but this was different. The closeness, the quiet, the way his breath mingled with hers, it made her heart unsteady.

“Where does it hurt most?” she asked, her voice low.

“Nowhere,” he said too quickly.

She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him. “Hold still.”

Dipping the cloth into the flask of river water, she began cleaning the scratches on his arm. Cade didn’t move, but she could feel the tension in him, the muscles tightening under her touch, his breath measured and shallow.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he murmured.

“What thing?”

“Pretending you’re calm.”

She smiled faintly, keeping her eyes on the wound. “And you’re doing that thing where you think you can read me.”

“I can,” he said softly. “You’ve never been good at hiding what you feel.”

Her hand faltered for a second before she caught herself. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” His tone was quiet but sure. “You just think it isn’t.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Instead, she focused on the next cut, the one near his ribs. “This will sting,” she warned.

“I’ll survive.”

She dabbed the salve carefully onto the bruised skin. His jaw flexed, but he didn’t flinch. When her fingers brushed the edge of his chest, she felt his breath catch, quick, barely audible, but enough to make her own pulse skip.

The silence grew heavy again, filled with things neither dared name.

“There,” she said finally, sitting back on her heels. “That should help.”

Cade looked at her, eyes steady, voice rough. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But I wanted to.”

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Cade exhaled slowly, pulling his shirt back on. “You’ve changed,” he said.

Samantha sighed. “We've had this conversation before but maybe this time you would like to give reason to your words.”

“You used to follow rules,” he said, fastening the last button. “Now you break them without blinking.”

“Maybe I learned from you.”

He smiled faintly. “Then the world’s in trouble.”

She laughed softly, the tension easing for a heartbeat. But when she looked at him again, her chest tightened. He was watching her, really watching her, and there was something in his gaze she hadn’t seen before or maybe she had and was just recognizing it now.

Not the easy friendship of years past. Not the teasing brotherly fondness. Something heavier.

She looked away first. “We should rest. It’ll be dawn soon.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Rest.”

But neither of them did.