Beneath The Howl

EIRA VALE

I'd forgotten how bitter the wind could be in these mountains.

It sliced across my skin like tiny knives, threading its way through the folds of my coat, numbing the tips of my fingers despite the gloves I wore. The dirt road beneath my boots was slush and gravel, the last remnants of snow clinging to the edges like ghosts that refused to leave. It had been years, but the forest still looked the same-towering pines, crooked fences, the occasional flicker of chimney smoke in the distance.

I hadn't meant to come back.

If I'd had a choice, I would've stayed tucked away in the quiet little village I'd make my home, tending to coughs and colicky babies, drinking lukewarm tea in silence, and pretending that the past was nothing more than an echo I could ignore. But when the letter came, I couldn't look away.

"They're sick. You're needed. Come home."

It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be.

The Vale name still meant something here, even if it twisted in people's mouths now.

Even if the memory of Bram Vale-my brother, the golden boy of this place-was nothing more than ash.

I adjusted the strap of my satchel over my shoulder and kept walking, boots crunching down the winding trail. My feet ached. My legs protested. I hadn't walked this far in years, not with a pack this heavy, not through woods this cold.

But I needed the solitude. The space to think. To steel myself.

Because the truth was—I was afraid.

Afraid of being seen again. Afraid of who I would see. Afraid of the answers I might finally get.

But, this was a responsibility that I could no longer run from. No matter how much I wanted to escape from the memories associated with my park, I still had a duty that I must fulfill.

The closer I got to town, the harder it became to breathe.

I passed familiar landmarks: the crumbling stone wall Bram and I used to climb, the broken bridge where we'd dare each other to jump into the freezing creek below, the hollow oak tree we once stuffed with secrets and summer letters. All of it felt frozen in time.

I wasn't.

My reflection in the creek showed me that-white hair, tied back with a piece of ribbon; blue eyes that looked tired in the half-light; pale skin dulled by grief and time. I was still beautiful, I knew that. People used to say it like it was something tragic. Like it didn't belong to someone who smelled of antiseptic and herb leaves.

But now? I didn't care. Not about the way strangers looked at me. Not about the way they would look at me when I arrived.

All I wanted was to do what I came for and leave.

I reached the outskirts of the village by mid-afternoon. The trees thinned, and the road forked-one path toward the old church and cemetery, the other leading into the heart of town. I paused. Listened. The wind had quieted. The air felt still.

Too still.

Something prickled at the back of my neck. I turned slowly, instinct buzzing in my chest.

That's when I saw them.

Three men stepping out from behind a fence up the road, boots crunching gravel, shoulders slouched in that loose, cocky way that made my stomach turn. Strangers. Not from here. I could tell by the way they looked at me.

Not like they recognized me.

I kept walking, and they followed.

"Long walk for a girl alone." One of them called.

I didn't answer.

"What's in the bag?" Another asked, grinning.

"Just medicine." I said evenly, keeping my eyes ahead.

"Oh, we're feeling real sick all of a sudden."

My hand slipped into my coat, fingers curling around the small pocketknife I always kept tucked inside. My pulse thundered in my ears. I'd seen what desperation looked like in the eyes of men who thought you were soft, weak, alone.

I wasn't soft. Not anymore.

But I was alone.

They stepped closer.

I took one step back.

And then—a blur of motion. A thud. A grunt. The sickening sound of bone meeting something solid.

I gasped, stumbling back as one of the men was yanked off his feet and slammed to the ground.

The man who'd done it moved like something unchained-tall, dark coat billowing behind him, hair tied loosely at his neck, jaw clenched like he was barely holding himself back. The second attacker lunged toward him, only to be caught mid-swing and thrown against the tree line.

The third ran—smartest one of them.

And just like that, it was over.

I stood frozen, heart still hammering, lips parted in disbelief.

He turned to me slowly, and stared at me blankly.

He was tall, wild, coiled like a storm. Black hair wind-swept and long, tied loosely at the nape of his neck. His eyes, a sharp, impossible green-feral, flickering with power. Blood stained the edge of his jaw, but not a drop of it was his.

For a moment, he didn't speak.

Neither did I.

The cold burned, but all I could feel was the way he looked at me-as if trying to decide if I was real or another problem to solve.

"You're bleeding," he said at last, voice like gravel under velvet.

I blinked. "It's not mine."

He stepped closer. I should've flinched. I didn't.

There was something dangerous in him-something that made the air bend around his presence. But it didn't feel aimed at me. It felt like armor. Like control.

"Why are you out here alone?" he asked.

"Who are you?"

He stared at me, and his jaw ticked once. "Alpha Kael Thorne."

My heart stuttered. Of course. Of course it would be him.

I didn't know him-not personally. But I'd heard the name. Everyone had. He was the man who took over the estate when the last Alpha died. The one who rebuilt the community, who handled everything the old leadership left in ruin. Some said he was too young. Others said he was ruthless. Everyone agreed he was dangerous.

And now he was looking at me with eyes like frost over grass-green, unreadable, striking.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and firm.

"I—yes," I managed, throat dry. "I think so."

He looked me over once, a sharp scan. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

He nodded once. "Good."

I exhaled shakily. "Thank you... I didn't expect anyone to-"

"I was passing through." He stepped closer, the air shifting around him. "They were stupid."

There was a pause. A beat too long. His gaze lingered.

"Who are you?"

"Eira Vale," I said quietly. "I was asked to come, more like commanded. I'm the-"

"Healer," he finished.

I blinked. "Yes."

His eyes narrowed, not cruelly-more like curiosity wrapped in suspicion.

I felt smaller under his gaze than I had before the bandits came. The Alpha. My brother's old commander. The man whose name was half-whispered in war stories and warnings.

And I had just stared at him like a fool.

Something shifted in his expression. Subtle, but there. Surprise. Recognition. And... something else I couldn't name.

His gaze dropped for the first time-slowly, like it was reluctant to leave-and I realized he was scanning for injuries.

"I thought the healer would be older," he said finally.

"I thought the Alpha would be kinder," I replied before I could stop myself.

He raised a brow. Then-barely-a smirk ghosted across his lips.

"Tough day?"

"The usual." I said, breath catching slightly.

He reached for something behind him-my satchel, which had fallen in the scuffle-and held it out to me. His fingers brushed mine. Warm. Firm. It jolted something in my chest.

"You shouldn't be walking alone," he said.

"I didn't plan on being cornered."

"Still," he murmured, almost to himself. "It's not safe anymore."

I looked up at him. "You say that like it ever was."

His expression didn't change. But something in his eyes did.

"I'll walk you the rest of the way," he said.

"I'm fine-"

"Don't argue, Vale."

My name in his mouth felt like something electric. I wasn't sure I liked it. I wasn't sure I didn't.

As I followed him through the trees, my pulse thundered against my ribs, a rhythm I hadn't heard in years.

It wasn't fear.

It was something else entirely.

***