Chapter seven - Fire and Shadows

The courtyard glowed with firelight. A great blaze

roared at its center, sparks climbing into the night sky

until they vanished into the canopy of stars. Wolves

crowded around the flames—some in human form, others

shifting between—laughing, growling, blending into a chorus

of belonging.

Nova lingered at the edge, arms folded tight across her chest.

The warmth of the fire barely reached her, though the air was

thick with the scent of roasted meat, herbs, and smoke. Every

sound grated against her—too loud, too careless, as if they had

nothing to fear. As if war and blood weren’t crouching just

beyond the trees.

She crouched low, dagger resting across her knees. Old habits.

Hunters never gathered like this without a reason. Hunters

didn’t laugh around fires. They sharpened blades, mapped

ambushes, and drank in silence. To sit in peace like this felt like

tempting fate.

A ripple of laughter rose from the circle as two wolves wrestled

near the flames, shifting mid-grapple, bodies twisting, teeth flashing before rolling apart. The crowd howled approval.

Nova’s gut twisted. It should have repulsed her, but instead

she felt an ache she didn’t know how to name. Belonging. The

word slid into her mind unbidden, sharp as a blade.

She dropped her gaze, nails biting into her palms until they

hurt. She couldn’t want this. She couldn’t want them.

Her mind betrayed her with Ezra’s face. His fury when she

hesitated. His voice snapped like a whip: Don’t you dare

falter again. The memory of blood on his blade, a boy’s body

crumpling into the dirt. Her chest tightened until she couldn’t

breathe. She forced herself to inhale the smoke, the food,

anything but the memory.

Across the fire, Kilian stood with two visiting Alphas, his

presence commanding even in stillness. Every gesture, every

incline of his head, carried weight. The others leaned closer,

drawn in, as though gravity itself bent toward him. And then

his gaze slid across the fire and found hers.

The bond surged like lightning beneath her skin. For a breath,

she forgot the fire, forgot the pack, forgot everything but the

way his eyes anchored her. It was unbearable—too much, too

raw. She jerked her gaze away, heart hammering against her

ribs.

She didn’t see Lyra until the woman dropped onto the log beside

her, setting two cups on the ground with a thud.

“What’s this?” Nova asked warily.

“Herbal brew,” Lyra said, matter-of-fact, neither kind nor cruel.

“Tastes like dirt, but it keeps the nightmares at bay. Or so they

claim.”

Nova hesitated, then lifted the cup. The liquid was bitter, sharp

enough to make her nose wrinkle, but it grounded her, pulling

her back from the edge. Lyra watched her over the rim of her

own cup, eyes narrowing.

“You fight like someone with something to prove,” Lyra said

softly. “Always ready to bleed, but not to heal. Always chasing

something you can’t name. That kind of hunger burns hot, but

it leaves nothing but ash.”

Nova’s throat tightened. She didn’t answer.

Lyra leaned back, firelight catching the scar that ran down her

jaw. “I’ve seen plenty like you. Not weak, no. Dangerous. But

reckless. You don’t know it yet, but your path is tied to his now.”

“Why do you care?” Nova asked, voice low.

“I don’t,” Lyra said. “Not yet. But the Alpha does. And whether

you like it or not, he sees what you are—and what you could

become. You’ll need to fight for your own, not for his approval.

Or you’ll never survive here.”

Nova stiffened. She wanted to deny it, to laugh, to tell Lyra she

was wrong. But the weight in her chest—the tether she couldn’t cut—spoke otherwise.

Silence stretched between them. The fire cracked, sparks

spitting into the night. Finally, Lyra rose, brushing dirt from

her hands.

“Remember that,” she said. “Fight for yourself. Not for him.

Not yet. Make your place here yours before anyone else can

claim it.”

She walked back into the circle, leaving Nova staring at the

flames, heart pounding.

For a long time, Nova sat motionless, dagger still across her

knees, the taste of bitter herbs lingering on her tongue. And

though she tried to push the word away, it clung like smoke,

sinking deeper with every breath.

Her place.

Nova’s eyes flicked toward Kilian again, and this time, he didn’t

look away. The bond hummed beneath her skin, sharp and

electric, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the pack disappeared.

She felt the pull, a dangerous lure, something that made her

pulse spike and her breath hitch.

He shifted slightly, leaning on the edge of the fire, and Nova

caught herself imagining him closer, just for a moment—an

impossible closeness that made her stomach tighten. Normally,

she would have been the hunter, the one in control. Now, the

roles felt reversed. She was the prey in a way that terrified and thrilled her.

Lyra’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp. “Eyes forward,

Nova.”

She obeyed, but not before stealing another glance. Kilian’s

gaze held hers a second too long, and she felt her chest heat,

pulse racing with something she wasn’t ready to name. The

firelight caught the angles of his face, the curve of his jaw, and

for a fleeting second, she hated the pull that made her ache for

him.

He tilted his head, as if reading her thoughts. A smirk brushed

his lips, almost imperceptible, and it sent a shiver down her

spine. Nova clenched her fists around the dagger and staff,

grounding herself, but the sensation didn’t leave. He didn’t

need to speak—the tether between them said it all.

And yet, even as the longing throbbed in her veins, she reminded

herself: she was here to survive, not to fall into the trap that

Kilian’s presence laid before her. She could fight rogues, she

could fight Hunters, but this… this was something different.