The Wolf That Knows My Name

The pounding of Elaria's heartbeat was overpowered by the murmur of blades being unsheathed.

Her breath froze in her throat as she knelt beside the cave's spring's edge, holding the knife tightly. Beyond the stone door, the shadows circled closer, ghost-like figures flitting in the firelight.

They would be stuck if they made a single mistake.

A deep growl rumbled in Draven's throat as he stirred next to her. As soon as his golden eyes locked with hers, his eyelids opened and he became conscious.

Alert.

And ready to kill.

“They followed us,” Elaria whispered. “I count five… no, more. At least eight.”

Draven grew to his full height, his entire body changing into a deadly shape. Dried blood was plastered across his naked chest, yet the gash at his side was already starting to heal. It was healing him more quickly than it should have, whatever had woken up inside him during that last battle.

He nodded once. “Stay behind me.”

“I won’t hide,” she snapped.

“I’m not asking.”

Their eyes locked. A silent war of wills.

But then—he reached back without turning, curling his fingers around hers.

Not to silence her. Not to control her. But to ground her.

And she didn’t let go.

The first rogue burst through the narrow cave mouth, claws drawn, eyes burning with madness.

Draven shifted—half-form, muscles rippling, canines elongated, eyes glowing gold.

The wolf beneath his skin was no longer sleeping.

Elaria moved with him.

The fight was brutal, messy, fast. Blood splashed across the stone. Steel clanged. Claws tore through the air. And in the chaos, she realized something strange—

They were fighting as one.

Every time a rogue lunged for her, Draven was already there. Every time he turned his back, she covered him. Like instinct. Like muscle memory. Like this wasn’t the first time they’d fought together.

And maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe he’d forgotten.

But her body hadn’t.

By the time the last rogue hit the ground with a final gurgle of breath, Elaria’s arms were shaking. Her tunic was ripped at the shoulder, blood seeping through the fabric. She didn’t know if it was hers.

Draven grabbed her, pulling her behind a column of stone. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” She gasped. “You?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at her with an expression she couldn’t name.

And then he said something that shattered the air between them.

“You called me by my true name.”

Elaria blinked. “What?”

“In the fight. You said it.”

“I… didn’t realize—”

“Dravien.”

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t the name the world knew. It wasn’t the name the Kaelith pack feared.

Draven Kaelith was the Alpha. The weapon. The monster.

Dravien was the man who had kissed her in the forest, two winters ago, with snow falling in his hair.

And he remembered.

He reached for her, slowly, fingers curling around her wrist.

“I saw you,” he said quietly. “A flash. The silver trees. Your hands on my chest. You smiled at me.”

Her throat tightened. “That night—”

“I don’t know what happened afterward. It’s all black. But I remember you.”

The cave was quiet again.

Too quiet.

Elaria’s heart raced for a different reason now. This wasn’t just survival. This wasn’t just running.

This was the beginning of truth.

“You marked me,” she whispered. “You said we’d keep it secret, that you’d convince your elders. That war didn’t have to come.”

His eyes darkened. “And then I attacked your pack.”

“You don’t remember doing it?”

“No.” He paused. “But I remember the guilt. I didn’t understand why it was there. Why the nightmares started. Why your scent made something in me scream.”

She reached for him, voice trembling. “Someone took your memories, Dravien.”

“I believe you.”

It broke something inside her. She didn’t realize how much she’d needed those words. Not until now.

He stepped closer, slowly, until they were nose to nose.

“If we’re mated—”

“We are,” she breathed.

“Then this bond—this pull—I’m not imagining it.”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Neither am I.”

And then he kissed her.

Not like the possessive Alpha he had become.

But like the broken man he had once been, aching to remember what he lost.

His hands framed her jaw. Her fingers dug into his bare skin. A rush of hunger and desperation smashed their mouths together, like if something holy and ancient were escaping between them.

She had no idea how long they remained there, encircling one another, bound by history, instinct, and a vaguely recalled vow.

But it was real.

He drew away and pressed his forehead to hers.

He declared, "I will discover who stole my memories.” “I swear it.”

Elaria nodded, heart pounding.

Then—

A howl tore through the night.

Not wild.

Organized.

Pack.

Draven cursed. “That’s Kaelith.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’d know that howl anywhere.” His jaw tightened. “My Beta is coming. Which means the Elders won’t be far behind.”

Panic twisted inside her.

“If they find me with you—”

“They’ll kill you,” Draven finished. “Or worse. They'll use you.”

He stepped back, golden eyes blazing.

“I need to make them believe you’re my prisoner.”

She stared at him.

“What?”

“I can keep you close. Protect you. But if they think this is a rescue mission, they’ll tear you apart.”

“And if they believe I’m your captive?”

“They won’t touch you.”

Her lips parted, but the words didn’t come.

“This is the only way, Elaria.”

She stepped forward slowly. “You swear you won’t let them hurt me?”

“I swear it.”

She nodded once.

“Then chain me.”

His expression broke. But with shaky hands, he reached for the iron handcuffs the rogues had left behind and wrapped them carefully around her wrists.

With torches blazing, the search team reached the cavern's mouth—

They found Draven standing tall, shirtless, blood-slicked, with a defiant light in his eyes…

And Elaria bound in chains at his side.