CHAPTER 7

Aria's POV 

Inside the forest, there was quietness as everyone seemed to be hiding. And the forest was colder than it should’ve been.

Every branch felt like it reached for me, every shadow like it was watching. I kept moving slowly, I restarted one of my hands on my stomach, and the other gripping the small knife I’d stolen from an abandoned cabin two nights ago. I hadn’t eaten anything in a day. My vision blurred. My legs barely moved. Left with me, still no other alternative.

Still, I ran.

I didn’t hear the wolf until it was later.

It exploded from the trees, teeth bared, snarling. Not the shadow wolf—this one with had eyes, and hatred in every inch of its body. A rogue. Starved, desperate, deadly.

I spun, and raised the knife, but in a slow mood.

It slammed into me, knocking the wind from my lungs. Pain shot through my side. We rolled across the forest floor, snarls and screams tangled together. I kicked, sliced blindly, and felt something tear.

Then a second blur streaked past.

A larger wolf. Is white and gold fur. Lightning fast.

It slammed into the rogue like a hammer, echoing heavily. They fought brutally—teeth, claws, howls of pain and rage. I dragged myself against a tree, breathing hard, my vision going black at the edges.

The white-gold wolf pinned the rogue and tore its throat open.

Silence fell.

I was shaking, blood seeping from my arm and thigh, and my clothes ripped as I tried to stand with courage. But I failed.

The wolf turned toward me. I should’ve been afraid, but I wasn’t. Its eyes weren’t cruel. They were steady. Watching.

It shifted.

Then someone stepped forward, he is tall with broad-shouldered, and messy golden-brown hair and a scar along his jaw. His shirt was torn, his chest streaked with blood that wasn’t his.

He crouched beside me, his voice low but gentle. “You're lucky I was nearby.”

I blinked. “Who... who are you?” I asked gently.

“Elias,” he said. “And you’re bleeding too fast. You’ll pass out.”

“Already… on it,” I mumbled.

Then the darkness took me.

I came from a warm bed, wrapping blankets that smelled of pine and smoke. My skin burned, and every breath felt like fire in my ribs. I tried to sit up.

“Don’t,” a voice said. “You’ll tear the stitches.”

Elias.

He sat down on a couch beside me, sleeves rolled up, arms smudged with dried blood. His face looked carved from stone, but his eyes were steady.

“You patched me up?” I whispered.

He nodded once. “You almost didn’t make it. You lost a lot of blood.”

I looked around. The cabin was simple but safe. A fire crackled. Outside the window, I saw snow falling.

“How long was I out?”

“Two days.” He paused. “I brought you to Crimson Pack territory. You’re safe now. For the moment.”

Crimson Pack.

I’d only heard stories. A remote, closed-off pack in the mountains—rumored to be old blood, ancient line. The kind that didn’t take in strangers.

So why was I still breathing?

I shifted, wincing at the pain. “Thank you… Elias.”

He didn’t reply right away. He watched me like I was a puzzle.

Finally, he said, “You’re not from around here.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No,” I said, voice low. “I was running.”

“From what?” He asked, staring at me.

“Everything.”

That much, at least, was true.

He didn’t press further. Just handed me a flask of warm broth.

I took it, avoiding his eyes. I couldn’t let him see too much. Especially not what was growing inside me.

That night, I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the basin. My face was pale, my lips cracked, but my eyes… they gave me away.

Too gold.

Too recognizable.

I waited until Elias left for supplies, then rummaged through his drawers. Found dye, and lenses.

I worked quickly, my hands shaking, and my heart racing.

By the time he returned, I was someone else. A girl with ash-brown hair and soft green eyes. Someone harmless. Someone not being hunted.

He blinked when he saw me. “You changed.”

“Just trying to blend in,” I said.

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t question it.

Days passed. I healed slowly.

Elias was quiet but never cold. He brought me meals, changed bandages, and left me books to read. He never asked about my past, but I caught him watching me sometimes. Not in a creepy way. In a thoughtful one. Like he was trying to place a memory just out of reach.

One night, he sat across from me near the fire. The silence stretched.

“You’re not a normal rogue,” he said finally.

I didn’t answer.

He leaned back. “There’s something in your scent. Familiar. Powerful.”

I froze.

“Some of the elders believe in the old stories,” he went on. “A bloodline touched by the moon goddess. A lost heir. A girl who would rise in a time of war.”

I tried to keep my voice even. “Sounds like a fairytale.”

“Maybe.”

He looked at me for a long moment. Then dropped his gaze.

But he knew. I could feel it.

He wouldn’t say it. Not yet. But he saw something.

And I was running out of places to hide.

One morning, I woke to shouting outside.

Elias was gone.

I threw on my coat, ignoring the pain, and stepped out.

Two Crimson warriors were at the edge of the trees, snarling at a third man. Thin. Pale. Covered in dirt and blood. He wasn’t fighting back.

I stepped closer—and the man’s head snapped up.

My heart dropped.

It was my father.

He looked worse than before—like he’d clawed his way out of hell. His eyes locked on mine.

“Aria,” he breathed.

The warriors turned to me, confused. “You know him?”

I couldn’t speak.

How had he found me? How had he escaped?

Elias appeared from the side, tension in every step.

“We have a problem,” he said.

No.

We had a dozen.

Because right then, the wind shifted.

And I caught a new scent.

Lilith showed up at the moment.

She was close. Too close