Chapter Twenty Three- The Circle Tightens ( Kael's POV )

The sound of boots on wet earth closed in from every direction. Heavy. Disciplined. Dozens, no, more. My pulse climbed until it filled my ears, louder than the thunder of their approach. Kael’s body went rigid beside me, every line of him bristling with the kind of stillness that came before the storm.

Darius met his gaze. No words, just the grim understanding of men who had seen death wear too many faces.

“We can’t fight them head-on,” Darius said quietly. “Not this many. Not with her...”

Kael’s growl cut him off, low and raw. “I will not run.”

“Then you’ll die,” Darius snapped, stepping closer, his voice sharp as the steel in his hand. “And so will she. And the child.”

The silence that followed was thin and trembling. Kael’s jaw tightened, golden eyes flicking toward me. For a heartbeat, I saw the war inside him, the Alpha’s pride against the lover’s fear.

“Underground,” I whispered, my voice breaking through the tension.

Both men turned to me.

“The cellar,” I said, nodding toward the far wall. “Old outposts like this, they always had one. A place for storage… or for hiding.”

Kael hesitated, then moved. He crossed the room in three strides, his boot slamming into the rotted boards until one cracked open, revealing a narrow hatch hidden beneath. The stench that rose up was thick with mold and dust, but it was darkness, at least, darkness we could use.

“Go,” he ordered.

Darius dropped first, vanishing into the shadows below. I followed, lowering myself carefully until my boots found the cold stone floor. The air was damp, stale, but bearable. Kael came last, dragging the broken hatch closed behind him just as the first shouts sounded above.

Torches flickered through the cracks in the floorboards. Shadows danced. The Council’s men had arrived.

The cellar stretched into a tunnel, narrow and crooked. Old barrels lined the walls, some split open to reveal long-dried stores of grain. Water dripped from somewhere unseen.

“Where does it lead?” Darius murmured.

Kael tilted his head, listening. “If this is like the other strongholds, it will open somewhere deeper in the forest. But we’ll have to move fast.”

The boots above us grew louder, closer. A door slammed open, voices barking orders. Then came the scraping sound of wood dragged aside.

“They’re searching,” I whispered.

Kael’s hand brushed mine in the dark, steadying. “Stay close to me. Don’t stop.”

We moved.

The tunnel forced us into single file, Darius leading with his blade drawn, Kael guarding our rear. Every few steps, I glanced back, half expecting the glow of torches to spill in behind us. My breath came in shallow bursts, echoing faintly off the stone.

The tunnel narrowed again, bending downward. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of earth and something else, something older. The walls bore faint carvings, symbols half-swallowed by time.

“The old sigils,” Darius muttered, tracing one with his fingertips. “This place was built before the Council’s reign. Maybe even before the first packs split.”

Kael’s voice rumbled low. “Then it was made for survival.”

A rumble above interrupted him, a crash, followed by the hiss of fire. Smoke filtered down through the cracks in the boards we’d left behind. My stomach twisted.

“They’re burning it,” I whispered. “They’re burning the outpost.”

Kael’s hand found my arm, firm. “Then we run faster.”

We broke into a jog, our footsteps splashing through puddles, echoing too loud in the narrow space. The tunnel curved again, this time rising, until faint moonlight shimmered ahead, a small, round opening veiled by hanging roots.

Darius reached it first, pushing the earth aside until he could peer through. “Clear,” he murmured, then crawled out into the open night. Kael lifted me next, his hands steady at my waist before he followed.

The forest met us like a living thing, cold and vast, the fog thicker than before. The night air stung my lungs after the stifling dark below. Behind us, through the trees, a dull orange glow flickered. The outpost burned, smoke spiraling into the fog like a warning flare.

“They’ll see it from miles away,” Darius said, eyes scanning the horizon. “We have to move before they spread out.”

Kael nodded. “North. The river can hide our scent.”

We moved again, deeper into the mist. Every step felt heavier. The forest whispered with unseen movement, the flutter of wings, the crack of a twig. My hand went instinctively to my belly. The child within me was restless, a sharp flutter beneath my palm.

It wasn’t just fear. It was knowing.

The prophecy.

The heir would be born in blood and fire.

“Kael,” I murmured, my voice barely a breath. “What if they don’t mean to capture us? What if they mean to end it here?”

He slowed, turning to me. His face was shadowed, but his eyes, those golden, burning eyes, met mine. “Then they’ll fail.”

A branch snapped somewhere behind us.

Darius reacted first, spinning with his blade drawn. From the fog, figures emerged, six, maybe seven, cloaked and armed, their torches flaring like small suns in the night.

“Go,” Darius hissed. “Run. I’ll hold them.”

Kael’s snarl was immediate. “You won’t survive alone.”

“I don’t need to.” Darius’s smile was thin, bitter. “I just need to buy you time.”

Before Kael could argue, Darius was already moving, darting into the fog, a ghost of motion and steel. His first strike was silent. The second drew a cry. Then the forest erupted into chaos.

Kael grabbed my wrist. “Don’t look back.”

We ran.

The ground sloped downward, roots catching at our feet, the mist clawing at our faces. My lungs burned, my heart hammered, but Kael never slowed, his grip unyielding. Behind us, the clash of steel and the roar of fire echoed like the world itself was at war.

When we finally stumbled to a stop beside the river, the moonlight cut through the fog enough to reveal the current, swift, black, merciless. Kael’s chest heaved as he looked back toward the burning horizon.

“He’s gone,” I whispered, though part of me still listened for Darius’s return.

Kael didn’t answer. He stared into the darkness, his jaw locked, his eyes bright with fury and grief.

Then he turned to me. “They won’t stop. Not until they have you.”

“Or until one of us is dead.”

He stepped closer, his breath mingling with mine, his hand rising to cup my face. “Not you. Never you.” His voice trembled, not with weakness, but with the weight of every promise he had yet to keep. “If the prophecy is truth, then it’s not doom, it’s deliverance. Our child will end them.”

Lightning flared in the distance, white against the endless fog. The air trembled with its echo.

“We can’t stay here,” I said softly.

“No.” His hand fell from my cheek to my waist, then to my belly, his thumb brushing the curve there. “But wherever we go, I will tear down anyone who tries to take what’s mine.”

The wind shifted. The smell of smoke followed us even here.

Kael glanced toward the river, then at me. “It’s the only way.”

Before I could speak, he pulled me into his arms and stepped into the current. The cold hit like knives, stealing the breath from my lungs. The river surged, dragging at us, but Kael held me firm, his strength unyielding as the water pulled us away from the shore, away from the burning forest, away from the men who hunted us.

Above, the storm broke. Rain poured down, hissing against the surface. The fog scattered, revealing flashes of lightning that split the sky in jagged arcs.

Kael’s voice came through the chaos, steady and fierce. “Hold on.”

I clung to him, my fingers gripping the leather of his coat, the sound of the river drowning out everything else, the pursuit, the fear, the prophecy’s whisper.

We were swept downstream, swallowed by the wild night.

When at last the current eased, Kael pulled us toward a bank lined with reeds. He hauled me onto solid ground, both of us gasping, drenched, the storm raging overhead.

For a long moment, we said nothing. Just breathing. Alive.

Finally, Kael turned his face toward the rain, his hair slick against his forehead, golden eyes burning even in the dark. “They think they cornered the wolves,” he said softly. “But the hunt isn’t over.”

I looked at him, at the man who had become both shield and storm, and felt the truth settle in my bones.

No, it wasn’t over.

It was only beginning.