Chapter 4

Aiden’s POV

I was done searching for my mate. Truly done. This time, I meant it. Maybe the Moon Goddess was dead, or worse, maybe she had forgotten me. That was the only explanation for why I was still mateless.

My father, Lycan Denzel, had sent me to represent him at the Black moon Pack’s coronation. I took the opportunity to expand the trip into something else entirely, a desperate, final search for my mate.

My Beta, Fred, traveled with me as we moved from pack to pack, clinging to the hope that I might feel that spark somewhere. But every search ended the same way, they ended in disappointment.

Eventually, my hopes shattered completely. I was running out of options, out of excuses, and there was only one path left open to me. . .Cassandra.

Cassandra, the daughter of the Shadowborn Pack’s Alpha. Our families had always been close, and from childhood, everyone assumed we would end up together. Mated and married. It was what our parents wanted. But I didn’t.

Even if she claimed I was her mate, and she did often but I never believed her. I didn’t feel that bond, I didn't feel that pull. There was no connection. How could I commit to someone I didn’t love, or someone I didn’t want?

Cassandra was known for her pride and arrogance.

The only reason she was kind to my family was because she loved me, or thought she did, and wanted the title of Luna. That was the truth no one wanted to say out loud.

Because of how close our families were, my mother, Luna Eva, had even invited Cassandra to stay in our pack for a while. She thought it might help us “reconnect,” that maybe I would change my mind with time

But I hadn’t.

I never loved Cassandra and I never will. She was just a friend, nothing more.

And yet. . . since fate hadn’t granted me a true mate, maybe it was time to surrender. Maybe it was time to settle.

“But we can’t. We’ve come too far to give up now,” my wolf, Wyatt, growled inside me.

He had always held onto hope. Always believed she was out there, waiting to be found. But even he was starting to falter.

Still, hearing him now, so stubborn and so certain made something in me hesitate.

Were we really not destined to have a mate?

Or was she still out there, just beyond our reach?

“Can’t you see for yourself? It’s pointless to keep searching when there is no hope!” I snapped through the mind link.

Wyatt went silent.

I knew I had hurt him by dismissing his optimism so harshly, and I didn’t like seeing him withdrawn or upset. I would make it up to him, but not now.

“Aiden, are you there?” Fred’s voice broke through my thoughts, laced with concern. I had not even realized he had been speaking. I must have been too lost in my own head.

“Let’s head to the Black moon Pack,” I responded flatly, unwilling to engage further in conversation.

I urged the horse forward, and we resumed our journey.

As we approached the outskirts of the Black moon Pack territory, I abruptly pulled the reins, bringing my horse to a stop. A figure had caught my attention, specifically, the retreating form of a lone she-wolf moving along the edge of the woods. I tilted my head, listening. A faint sound, sounding like labored breathing, perhaps, carried from her direction. As a Lycan, my hearing was acute, and the sound raised immediate suspicion.

“Is everything okay, Aiden?” Fred asked, noticing the shift in my expression. “Come on, you can’t keep sulking. . . ”

“Follow me,” I ordered as I dismounted. Fred complied immediately.

Just as I issued the command, I inhaled a scent unlike any I had ever encountered. It was sweet and sharp, lemon and blueberry, mingled in a way that struck something primal within me. I could have followed that scent forever.

Wyatt, who had been silent since our earlier exchange, stirred suddenly in my mind. “Something is about to happen,” he said, pacing excitedly. “I can feel it. I can’t wait. . .”

“Shut up and let me concentrate,” I muttered internally.

As we proceeded on foot, a narrow trail of blood became visible on the forest floor. It stretched forward in a straight line, and the scent grew stronger with each step.

“Aiden, let’s not go any further,” Fred said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I glared at him with anger and continued ahead.

Then I saw her. A she-wolf, she is barely standing, she appears to be severely injured, and bleeding from multiple cuts, was limping through the brush. Blood ran freely down her body, her face muddied by it. She looked like she had been attacked violently and was on the verge of collapsing.

“Mate!” Wyatt howled in my head. “There she is. . . Oh my goddess, this is real. . .”

She stumbled forward one last time before collapsing. I rushed to her side and caught her before she hit the ground.

I had never felt anything like this before. Even through the blood, her features stood out, delicate, symmetrical, undeniably beautiful. A round face, thick eyelashes, and lips that seemed carefully sculpted.

She was slipping away fast.

“Get the horses!” I barked at Fred, kneeling beside her.

Blood was now flowing from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her complexion was turning pale, her lips tinged blue, signs that looked like oxygen deprivation. She was losing consciousness. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, but I had to stay focused.

I couldn’t lose her now. Not after everything I have been through to find her.

Fred rushed off to get the horses, terror wide in his eyes.

And then the rain began, tiny drops at first, soft against her skin. I don't care about mine but we had to get out of here.

The Black moon Pack wasn’t close enough to reach the pack doctor in time, and I wasn’t even sure I remembered all the paths clearly. If I didn’t act fast, she would bleed out before we made it anywhere.

My mind raced, chaos and desperation tangling together.

And then I remembered, back when I was younger, training to be a warrior, we were taught emergency survival techniques. Taylor, the Gamma of our pack and my father’s most trusted warrior, had drilled into us the importance of recognizing healing herbs.

One of them, the aspilia leaf, could slow bleeding. If only I could find one right now.

Without hesitation, I darted into the underbrush and found a patch, thankfully. I ripped a handful from the stem, heart pounding as the rain picked up around me.

We needed shelter.

Lifting her carefully, I placed her limp body on my horse. Her skin was cold. The rain began to fall harder now, soaking us both. I swung up behind her and wrapped one arm tightly around her while grabbing the reins with the other.

I didn’t know exactly where I was headed, just away from here, anywhere that could keep her safe.

Fred followed close behind on his horse, eyes scanning for shelter.

Frustration burned in my blood. I whipped the reins harder, urging the horse faster. My legs locked around its sides as my heart thundered with fear.

Through the storm, Fred suddenly called out, waving frantically. “There is. . . There is a shade over here!” His voice was barely audible through the downpour.

I yanked the reins, bringing the horse to a stop, and leapt down. Fred was already holding back branches to reveal an old wooden lean-to, half-covered in vines but sturdy enough for shelter.

I carried her into it.

Inside, I quickly pounded the aspilia leaves with a rock, crushing them into a paste. Then I spread them across her wounds, pressing gently.

She looked so pale. So still.

My heart cracked, watching her lie there like that, fragile and lifeless.

“She’s your mate, right?” Fred asked quietly, his lips twitching into a solemn frown.

“Yes,” I murmured, my voice low and ragged as I raked my hands through my soaked hair and over my face.

Fred exhaled and gave a small shake of his head, but he didn't say anything.

Usually, Fred and I filled the space between us with banter or easy rapport but it was different.

This was my mate. And she was dying.

My leg bounced anxiously, fists clenched so tight my knuckles turned white.

“What do you think happened to her?” Fred finally asked. “Was it rogues? Some kind of attack?”

I stared into the distance, eyes narrowing. My mind flashed back to the image of the retreating she-wolf I had seen earlier, her silhouette lingering in the shadows. Something about it… It had not felt right.

“I don’t know who did this,” I said darkly. “But someone’s behind it, and when I find out who, they will pay.”

Anger coiled like a storm inside me, tightening my chest because of the fact I cannot do anything else apart from what I have done.

Days passed. Then weeks. She still wasn’t responding. But she was still breathing, that's a good thing.

“Fred…” I called out, my voice hoarse with exhaustion and grief.

“What am I going to do?” My hands trembled. “She’s my life. . .”

I dropped to my knees, shoulders shaking. I couldn’t take this anymore. I was falling apart. I was losing her, and myself along with her.

Fred placed a comforting hand on my back, but I could tell he didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could fix this.

Then. . .

Achoo.

I froze.

“Huh?” I looked up, unsure if I had imagined the sound.

Then again, louder this time: “Achoo. . . achoo. . .”

Fred and I both snapped upright, eyes wide.

“She’s alive!” we shouted in unison. And the sense of relief just washed over me. I will live too!