Chapter2:whispers of the past

The fire had burned low, its embers glowing faintly in the darkness. Selene sat with her knees drawn to her chest, watching Killian as he slept. His breathing had steadied, though his face remained tense, as if haunted by nightmares he refused to voice. The ruins offered them shelter, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough for long.

Morning would come. And with it, questions.

Selene ran a hand through her hair, exhaling softly. What the hell had she done?

She had spent her entire life training to be a warrior, preparing for the day she would take her place beside Damon Hale as his mate, as her father’s obedient daughter. That was the future carved out for her. Safe. Predictable.

But now, she was harboring a rogue. Not just any rogue—Killian, the last of the Moonfallen.

If anyone found out, she wouldn’t just be punished—she would be executed.

Selene shivered, hugging herself as the cold crept in. Was it fear? Regret? She wasn’t sure.

All she knew was that something about Killian pulled at her, an invisible thread she couldn’t cut.

She should be afraid of him. But she wasn’t.

She should turn him in. But she wouldn’t.

Because he was her mate.

And that changed everything.

Dawn broke over the ruins, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold.

Killian stirred, his body tensing before his eyes fluttered open. Selene watched as he took in his surroundings, his gaze landing on her.

“Still here?” His voice was rough from sleep.

Selene arched a brow. “You say that like you expected me to run.”

Killian smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Most people do.”

Selene didn’t know what to say to that.

Instead, she tossed him a waterskin from her pack. He caught it easily, though he winced at the movement. His wounds were healing, but slowly—too slowly for a wolf.

“You need real treatment,” she said.

Killian scoffed. “And where exactly would I get that? The pack clinic?”

Selene ignored the sarcasm. “I know someone. A healer. She won’t ask questions.”

Killian’s expression darkened. “I don’t need help.”

Selene rolled her eyes. “You’re covered in wounds, barely able to stand, and you think you can just—”

A deep, rumbling growl cut her off.

Selene tensed, her head snapping toward the treeline. They weren’t alone.

Killian was already on his feet, his entire body coiled with tension. Despite his injuries, he moved

A deep, rumbling growl cut her off.

Selene tensed, her head snapping toward the treeline. They weren’t alone.

Killian was already on his feet, his entire body coiled with tension. Despite his injuries, he moved like a predator—silent, deadly, ready to strike. His silver eyes flicked toward her, then back to the shadows beyond the ruins.

“Stay close,” he murmured.

Selene bristled. “I can handle myself.”

Killian didn’t argue, but something in his gaze softened—like he understood something she didn’t yet realize.

A low snarl echoed through the trees. Then, a pair of glowing amber eyes emerged from the darkness.

Selene’s breath hitched. A wolf.

Not just any wolf—a Blackwood scout.

Panic surged through her. If the scout was here, that meant her father had already sent patrols searching for her. If they found Killian, he wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.

The wolf stepped closer, its hackles raised. Then, in a swift motion, it shifted, revealing a tall, muscular man with scars crisscrossing his chest.

Ronan.

Selene cursed under her breath.

Ronan was one of her father’s most loyal enforcers. If he saw Killian, if he scented the rogue blood on him—it was over.

“Selene,” Ronan said, his voice gravelly. “Your father has been looking for you.”

She forced herself to stay calm. “I went for a run. Didn’t know I needed permission.”

Ronan’s gaze flicked past her, scanning the ruins. Searching.

Selene shifted slightly, positioning herself in front of Killian.

Ronan frowned. “You shouldn’t be here. This place isn’t safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said smoothly. “Go tell my father I’ll be home soon.”

Ronan’s expression darkened. “Damon is looking for you.”

The mention of her so-called mate sent a shudder down her spine. Damon Hale was everything an Alpha’s heir was supposed to be—strong, ruthless, power-hungry.

But Selene wasn’t a prize to be claimed.

Ronan took a step closer. “Let’s go, Selene.”

Killian moved then, so fast Selene barely saw it.

One moment, he was behind her. The next, he was in front of her, a blur of movement and raw, unrestrained power.

Ronan’s eyes widened as he took in Killian’s scent. His face twisted with recognition. Fear. Rage.

“You,” he breathed.

Killian’s expression was unreadable, but his stance was clear. A challenge. A warning.

Ronan snarled. “Moonfallen scum.”

Selene’s heart pounded. If Ronan attacked, if he howled for reinforcements…

She had seconds to decide.

And she made her choice.

Selene moved first.

Before Ronan could react, she lunged forward, slamming her fist into his jaw with enough force to send him staggering back.

Ronan growled, his eyes flashing gold as he steadied himself. “What the hell, Selene?!”

Killian grabbed her wrist. “We need to go. Now.”

But it was too late.

Ronan recovered, his face twisted in fury. “You’re protecting him?”

A powerful blow caught her across the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. She hit the ground hard, pain jolting through her body as she gasped for breath. Damn it. She had underestimated Ronan.

Killian didn’t hesitate. The moment she hit the ground, he snapped.

A snarl unlike anything she had ever heard tore from his throat. His silver eyes glowed dangerously, his muscles tensed like a coiled spring. He moved like a shadow, swift and merciless.

Ronan barely had time to react before Killian struck. One hit. Two. Three. Each blow was precise, brutal. The enforcer staggered, blood dripping from his lip, his breathing labored.

But Selene knew Ronan wouldn’t back down. He was a Blackwood warrior—loyal, relentless, and willing to die for the pack.

She couldn’t let it come to that.

“Stop!” she gasped, forcing herself to stand. “Enough!”

Killian froze, his chest heaving. He was standing over Ronan now, one more strike away from ending him.

Selene’s heart pounded. “If you kill him, they’ll never stop hunting us.”

Killian’s gaze flickered to her. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he stepped back.

Ronan coughed, his body trembling as he pushed himself up. He spat blood onto the dirt, his golden eyes flicking between them.

Selene braced herself for another attack. But instead, Ronan did something unexpected.

He laughed.

It was rough, humorless, edged with pain. “You really are your father’s daughter,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Stubborn as hell.”

Selene stiffened. “Ronan—”

He wiped the blood from his lip, his expression grim. “I should kill him. I should drag you back to your father in chains.”

Selene didn’t speak.

“But I won’t.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

Ronan exhaled, eyes hard. “I owe you. For the battle at the Winter Pass.”

Selene remembered it well. A skirmish against a rogue pack had nearly cost Ronan his life. She had saved him then.

“I won’t turn you in,” he said. “But this? This is suicide, Selene.” His gaze flicked to Killian. “The past doesn’t forget. And neither does your father.”

Selene swallowed hard. “I know.”

Ronan studied her for a long moment. Then, with a final glance at Killian, he turned and walked away.

Selene didn’t dare breathe until he disappeared into the trees.

Only then did she sink to the ground, her body trembling from exhaustion.

Killian sat beside her, silent.

“Why did you stop?” she asked finally.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low. “Because you asked me to.”

Something shifted between them then—something fragile, unspoken.

Selene exhaled, her fingers digging into the dirt. What had she done?

She had turned her back on her father.

She had defied her pack.

And now?

Now, there was no going back.

Killian was watching her, his silver eyes unreadable. “You don’t have to do this.”

Selene met his gaze. But she already had.

And something deep in her bones told her… this was only the beginning.