Chapter 4:The Aftermath

Freya's pov 

When I opened my eyes, the trees were silent. My body ached everywhere, but it wasn’t just pain — it was the knowledge of what had happened. My skin crawled. My soul felt like it had cracked open.

He was gone. Only claw marks in the dirt and blood on the leaves remained.

I curled into myself, trembling. I thought I wouldn’t cry anymore after what happened with my parents — thought nothing worse could ever happen again — but the tears slid down anyway, hot and desperate.

My scream tore through the forest, raw and hollow. Then there was only silence again.

For a long time, I just sat there, staring at nothing. The moon had faded, the sky dulling into gray. I didn’t even know what part of the forest I was in anymore. My bag lay a few feet away, dirt-streaked, torn open.

When I moved to pick it up, something glinted near the roots of a tree — a thin, dark chain tangled in the leaves. My chest tightened as I recognized it. His.

I didn’t remember grabbing it. Maybe I’d pulled it off him when I was fighting… maybe it was just instinct. But now, it was all that remained — proof that the night hadn’t been a nightmare.

My fingers shook as I stuffed it into my bag. Then, with what little strength I had, I forced myself to stand.

Every step was agony, but I kept moving. Not toward home — never that. Just… forward. Away from the blood, the dirt, the memories.

The adrenaline that had fueled me through the night was gone. All that was left was the heaviness — disgust clinging to every breath I took. My body felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.

I walked until the trees began to thin, until the faint smell of smoke and bread reached my nose. Civilization. An inn, maybe.

And there it was — a small, weather-worn building tucked by the road, a dim lantern flickering outside.

Relief flooded through me so fast it made me dizzy. My hand lifted toward the door, but before I could knock, my vision blurred. The world tilted, spinning slow and heavy.

The last thing I felt was the cold wooden step against my cheek as I fell forward — darkness swallowing me whole once again.

.

.

.

"I-I think she's um... She's awake," A scream split through my head, as I woke back up, the memory of what happened earlier came rushing back.

A number of people gathered round me, staring at my face like I was some miracle come true.

"She's awake..." Another person, most likely their leader said,  cutting through the crowd.

"You'll suffocate her, you suckers!" He barked, making them all shudder.

I sat back up, staring at the insides of the inn.

"Where's this?" I asked.

"You passed out in front of my inn, were you sold here?" He asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"N-no, I'm sorry," I muttered, the realization striking me.

This wasn't a gathering of wolves, they were human.

"I need your help please," I muttered, forcing my aching body to my knees.

"Please hire me, take me in, I'll do anything you want me to do," I begged, clenching my fingers together, hoping for help.

"And why should I help you? You don't even look like..."

"I can cook," I cut in, kneeling closer, I can cook, I can clean, I'll do anything and I don't have anywhere to go, please help me," 

The man in front of me tilted his head, his expression unreadable. The crowd had thinned now, a few curious faces still peeking from behind doorframes, whispering to each other.

“You can cook?” he asked finally, his voice calmer, but still skeptical.

“Yes,” I said quickly, almost too quickly. “And clean. Anything. Just… don’t send me back out there.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The fire in the corner of the room crackled softly. My hands shook where they were clasped together, my knees pressed to the wooden floor. I couldn’t bring myself to look up.

Finally, his boots shifted closer. “What’s your name?”

I hesitated. The name on my tongue felt like a ghost from another life. “L—Liora,” I whispered. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. But it wasn’t the name they knew back home either.

He crouched so we were eye-level, his dark eyes studying my face like he was trying to read a story written there. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

I shook my head, lips pressed tight.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, then stood up again, running a hand over his jaw. “Fine. You can stay in the back for now. Kitchen shifts are at sunrise. Don’t cause trouble.”

Relief crashed into me so hard my shoulders slumped forward. “Thank you,” I breathed, the words nearly breaking into a sob.

“I’m not doing this out of kindness,” he warned, turning to walk toward the counter. “You work, you eat. You slack, you’re gone. Understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered, nodding quickly. “I understand.”

A woman — older, with sharp eyes and a cloth apron — stepped forward, jerking her chin toward a narrow hallway. “Come on. We’ll find you something clean to wear. You look like you’ve been dragged through the woods and back.”

She wasn’t wrong.

I rose unsteadily to my feet, clutching my bag to my chest, the chain inside pressing against my palm like a secret. The small weight of it felt like a curse.

As I followed the woman down the hall, my heart pounded harder. I’d escaped the forest. I’d found a roof over my head. But the memories of the night clung to me like a shadow.

And somewhere, far away in that same forest, a wolf with golden eyes would wake to find his chain missing.