The Burning Thread

Liora didn’t sleep.

She lay stretched across the flat roof of the watchtower, arms folded beneath her head, staring up at the stars until they blurred into one long smear of light. A chill had crept into the spring air, but she didn’t feel it. Her skin was too hot. Her pulse too fast. She could still taste his scent in the back of her throat—pine smoke, iron, rain.

The mating bond curled inside her like a thread set ablaze, burning silently in her chest.

She tried to push it down.

It pushed back harder.

Bonds weren’t supposed to work like this. They weren’t supposed to rip open your soul and then leave you bleeding. They were sacred. Ancient. When a wolf met their fated mate, it was said to be undeniable. Immediate. Whole.

But he had denied her.

Denied it.

Cael, Alpha of the Shadowclaw Pack, had looked her dead in the eye and called her a mistake.

The moment replayed over and over in her mind. His eyes—those cold, storm-gray eyes—had widened for just a second. She knew he had felt it. His wolf had surged toward her, the air had thickened, and time had stopped.

And then—he’d said no.

Just no.

Like she was nothing.

She curled her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut, letting the wind bite at her cheeks.

This wasn’t heartbreak. This was worse. This was rejection etched into bone.

And yet… the bond remained.

Even now, her wolf felt tethered to him, like some part of her was stretched tight in his direction, straining, calling out.

But he had walked away.

She’d always known she didn’t belong—not really. Not entirely. Elias had raised her like one of his own, but the pack had never let her forget she was different. She’d been adopted into the Crescent Moon Pack, not born to it. And now? Now fate had paired her with the leader of a rival pack who wanted nothing to do with her.

She laughed bitterly into the dark.

Of course.

Before dawn, Liora was already deep in the woods, running. Not as a wolf—she hadn’t shifted since she was sixteen—but as herself. Blades strapped to her thighs, boots slick with mud, arms pumping as she cut between trees.

She leapt over a fallen trunk and landed hard, breath catching. The strain felt good. Real. Her lungs burned. Her muscles protested. But it was better than stillness. Stillness let the bond in. Movement drowned it out.

As the sun broke over the treetops, her legs gave out, and she collapsed near the riverbank, chest heaving.

She screamed.

The sound tore from her throat like something wild and wounded, rising into the sky and scattering the birds from the trees.

Her wolf stirred at the sound, ears pinned, unsure whether to fight or hide.

The bond pulsed again—faint but steady. A heartbeat outside of her own.

She curled her fingers into the dirt and whispered, “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to feel me and still turn away.”

But part of her knew—he did feel her.

And that was the worst part.

Later, as she returned to the edge of the Crescent camp, a runner approached her near the training field.

“The Alpha wants to see you.”

Her stomach sank. “Now?”

The runner just nodded, then darted away.

The council chamber was quiet when she entered, the scent of firewood and old parchment wrapping around her. Elias sat at the long oak table, alone for now, hands clasped in front of him.

“Liora,” he said, motioning for her to sit.

She didn’t.

He studied her with those sharp, unreadable eyes of his—the same ones that had watched her since she was a frightened girl covered in ash and blood.

“You met your mate,” he said simply.

She stiffened. “He doesn’t want me.”

“That doesn’t change what you are to each other.”

Her voice came out sharp. “He made it very clear.”

“He’s young,” Elias said. “Young alphas often confuse leadership with isolation.”

Her hands curled into fists. “Don’t make excuses for him.”

“I’m not. I’m giving you context. Cael’s father was killed during a border dispute with our scouts. He was only seventeen when he took control of Shadowclaw. He’s never trusted anyone outside his inner circle—not even his own wolves.”

“So I’m just collateral.”

“You’re not collateral. You’re the key.”

Liora blinked. “What?”

Elias rose and walked to the window. “The Shadowclaw alliance is fragile. Rogues are growing more aggressive in the northern ridges. There are whispers of something worse—packs going missing. We need each other. He may not want the bond, but he’ll need you. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

She crossed her arms. “And what do you need me to do?”

He turned back, and for a moment, he looked tired. Not weak. Just tired.

“I need you to stay steady. Let the bond run its course. And when he returns in two days, you’ll be present at the negotiations.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because no matter what he said, his wolf will be looking for you.”

That night, Liora sat alone on the roof again, but the anger had dulled into something quieter.

She pressed her palm to her chest, right over where she imagined the bond thrummed. Her wolf curled tightly inside her, ears perked toward something distant.

She closed her eyes.

For a second, she felt him.

Not saw. Not heard.

Felt.

Somewhere beyond Crescent’s borders, beneath another sky, he was awake. Restless.

Thinking of her.

She didn’t know how she knew. But she did.

The thread between them hadn’t broken.

It burned. Quiet. Waiting.

And it was only a matter of time before it pulled one of them too far to turn back.