Chapter 8

Cora's POV

I wake slowly.

The forest is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels earned rather than empty. For a long moment, I stay still, afraid that if I move, everything will come crashing back at once.

Pain is there—but muted.

I sit up with a hiss, muscles trembling under the effort. My body feels sealed, whole. The wounds from last night are gone, skin smooth where claws and teeth had torn me open. But the strength hasn’t come back with it. I feel hollowed out, weak, like I’m moving through water.

Healing takes something out of you. I can feel it now.

I make my way to the river slowly, leaning against trees when my legs threaten to give out. I kneel at the edge and wash the dried blood from my skin, watching the water turn red before it’s carried away. My reflection stares back at me—pale, exhausted, eyes too sharp, too wary.

I eat what’s left of the deer meat from yesterday, forcing myself to swallow even though my stomach twists. I need the strength. I don’t have a choice.

The forest feels wrong.

Too still.

The scent hits me next.

Rogues.

My heart stutters as five figures step out from between the trees. I recognize them instantly. The same ones. Their eyes crawl over me, slow and deliberate, smiles curling with cruel familiarity.

“Well, look who’s still breathing,” one of them sneers.

I back away, pulse roaring in my ears. My wolf stirs weakly, exhausted, barely lifting her head. I’m not ready. I’m not strong enough.

But I shift anyway.

Pain ripples through me as fur replaces skin, my movements sluggish and unsteady. I bare my teeth, forcing a snarl past the weakness, trying to bluff strength I don’t have.

They laugh.

They come at me all at once.

The fight is chaos. Claws tear into my side. A blow sends me crashing to the ground. I scratch, bite, scream—but I’m slow, and there are too many of them.

They pin me down, weight crushing the breath from my lungs, hands gripping, restraining, voices low and mocking.

Fear floods me, sharp and suffocating.

No—no, no—

My wolf whimpers inside me as panic takes hold. I thrash, desperate, but it’s useless. I’m trapped. I’m weak.

Then—

A roar splits the air.

Not a howl.

A command.

The forest itself seems to still, pressure slamming down so hard it steals my breath. The rogues freeze for a fraction of a second—long enough.

A massive wolf explodes from the trees, fur pale as frost, eyes burning with cold authority. Power radiates from him in waves, unmistakable, overwhelming.

Alpha.

Every instinct in me knows it.

Another wolf follows him—strong, lethal—but it’s the first one who owns the clearing. His presence crushes everything else, dominance absolute.

The rogues barely have time to react before they’re torn away from me, flung aside like nothing.

Snarls. Screams. The sound of bone breaking.

It’s over in seconds.

The moment the pressure lifts, my strength disappears with it.

I barely feel myself shift back before strong arms catch me, solid and unyielding. The world tilts, dark creeping in at the edges. I see red hair and sharp green eyes softening, reassuring.

“You’re safe,” a deep voice says, calm and certain. “I’ve got you.”

I want to ask who he is.

I want to thank him.

But exhaustion pulls me under, heavy and unstoppable.

The last thing I feel is warmth—and the undeniable presence of an Alpha—holding me together as everything goes black.