Chapter 7 An 213 years old wolf?

"Two hundred and thirteen years."

I stopped walking. "What?"

Kael stopped too, turning to face me. Erica had fallen asleep in his arms.

"I'm old, Sophia. Old. I was born in 1812."

"That's impossible. Werewolves live longer than humans, but not that long."

"Most don't. But I was... cursed. Or blessed, depending on your perspective." He shifted Erica's weight carefully. "I stopped aging at thirty-five. I've been searching for my true mate ever since."

"Two hundred years," I breathed. "Alone."

"Yes."

The weight of that word. The loneliness it contained.

"And you think I'm... her? Your mate?"

"I don't think. I know." His eyes held mine. "The moment I saw you, my wolf recognized you. After two centuries of searching, I finally found you."

"But I'm broken," I whispered. "Weak. Poisoned. I have a daughter and an enemy, and—"

"You're perfect," Kael interrupted. "You're strong enough to survive abuse, smart enough to fight back, and brave enough to run with a child on your back." He stepped closer. "You're precisely who I've been waiting for."

Tears filled my eyes. I didn't know why. Maybe because for the first time in years, someone saw my strength instead of my weakness.

"I'm scared," I admitted.

"Good. Fear keeps you alive." He started walking again. "But you don't need to be scared of me. Ever."

We walked in silence for a while. The surrounding forest was thick with ancient trees and shadows.

Finally, Kael stopped in front of what looked like a solid wall of bushes and vines.

"My camp is through here," he said. "Hidden by magic. Old magic."

He whispered something in that strange language from before. The vines parted like a curtain.

Behind them was a small clearing with a well-made shelter. Not a tent—an actual wooden structure built into the side of a hill. Smoke rose from a chimney.

"You live here?" I asked.

"When I'm in this territory. I have camps scattered across the continent." He carried Erica inside.

The interior was surprisingly comfortable. A fireplace. A bed covered in furs. Shelves with books and supplies. Everything is neat and organized.

Kael lay Erica gently on the bed and covered her with a warm blanket.

"She'll sleep for hours," he said. "The poison needs to work its way out."

"And then?"

"And then we figure out what to do next." He turned to face me. "But first, you need food. Rest. You've been through hell tonight."

As if on cue, my stomach growled loudly.

Kael smiled—actually smiled. It transformed his hard face, making him look younger. Almost boyish.

He moved around the small space with practiced ease, pulling out bread, cheese, and dried meat. He even had tea.

I sat at the small table and ate like I was starving. Which I probably was.

Kael watched me eat, his expression soft.

"What?" I asked around for a mouthful of bread.

"Nothing. It's just... nice. Having someone here."

"You've really been alone for two hundred years?"

"Mostly. I had friends. Allies. But no, mate. No pack." He poured tea into a clay cup and handed it to me. "After the first century, I started to think the Moon Goddess had forgotten about me."

"But she didn't."

"No. She was just waiting for you to be born." His eyes held mine. "Everything happens in its time."

I sipped the tea. It was herbal and soothing. "What now?" I asked. "Leighton will come after us. He won't stop until we're dead or captured."

"Let him try." There was steel in Kael's voice. "He'll have to go through me first."

"You can't fight an entire pack alone."

"I've done it before." At my shocked look, he shrugged. "I've had two centuries to get excellent at fighting."

"But—"

"Sophia." He reached across the table and took my hand. The touch sent sparks through my entire body. "You're my mate. I will protect you and your daughter with my life. That's not negotiable."

"You barely know me."

"I know enough. I know you're brave. Loyal. A good mother. A survivor." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "And I know my wolf has chosen you. That's all I need."

The mate bond hummed between us, growing stronger with every passing moment.

"This is happening so fast," I whispered.

"We can go as slow as you want. I'm not going anywhere." He squeezed my hand gently. "But know this: you're safe here. You and Erica both. I swear it on my life."

Looking into his ancient silver-blue eyes, I believed him.