تسجيل الدخولKANEElara stands at the edge of the stone path as Lyall pulls the Jeep up, watching us with those icy, all-seeing eyes that never seem to miss anything. Her expression is unreadable, but the weight behind her gaze is palpable, like she knows more than she lets on. I help Nevaeh down the steps carefully. She is still weak, her legs unsteady, one hand gripping my arm like it is the only solid thing left in her world.I do not let go.Lyall is already out of the driver’s seat, but I give a single sharp shake of my head. He understands immediately and slips back behind the wheel without a word. Smart man. Too smart, sometimes. I make a mental note to keep an eye on him—always.I open the back door and guide Nevaeh in first. She moves slowly, wincing as she settles against the leather seat. I climb in after her and shut the door behind me. The moment I sit, she leans into me like it is the most natural thing in the world. Her head finds my shoulder. Her hand rests lightly on my thigh, gen
KANEElara stands at the edge of the stone path as Lyall pulls the Jeep up, watching us with those pale, all-seeing eyes that never seem to miss anything. Her expression is unreadable, but the weight behind her gaze is palpable, like she knows more than she lets on. I help Nevaeh down the steps carefully. She is still weak, her legs unsteady, one hand gripping my arm like it is the only solid thing left in her world.I do not let go.Lyall is already out of the driver’s seat, but I give a single sharp shake of my head. He understands immediately and slips back behind the wheel without a word. Smart man. Too smart, sometimes. I make a mental note to keep an eye on him—always.I open the back door and guide Nevaeh in first. She moves slowly, wincing as she settles against the leather seat. I climb in after her and shut the door behind me. The moment I sit, she leans into me like it is the most natural thing in the world. Her head finds my shoulder. Her hand rests lightly on my thigh, ge
NEVAEHI wake up inside someone’s arms. It takes a second for my brain to catch up. Warmth first. Solid. Heavy. A heartbeat thudding against my cheek, fast and uneven, like it’s been running for hours. Then the smell: pine, smoke, clean sweat. Familiar in a way that makes my stomach twist, a mixture of comfort and unease that claws at me from the inside. Kane. The thought hits me like a splash of ice water. I try to move, but my body doesn’t obey. My limbs feel like they belong to someone else, lead-heavy and unresponsive. My chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. My mind is foggy, fragmented, filled with shadows and whispers of the night before. His arms are locked around me, one under my shoulders, the other wrapped across my back. My head is tucked against his chest; my legs are tangled in the blanket and his thighs. He’s sitting on the edge of the cot, holding me like I might vanish if he loosens his grip even a fraction. I don’t move. I can’t. Everything about hi
KANE The candle has burned itself into a sad little pool of wax. I stopped counting hours a while ago. Time feels warped in this room, stretched thin and useless, like it knows better than to move forward. The raven has not moved from its perch on the table, red eyes fixed on me like I am the one who needs watching. Maybe I am. I keep shifting in the chair, trying to find a position that does not make my spine feel like it has been hammered flat. The wooden back digs into my shoulder blades every time I lean forward. I welcome the ache. Moving means looking away from her, and I cannot do that. Not even for a second. Nevaeh has not stirred since Elara left. Her breathing is still too quiet, too even, like she is practicing being gone. I have checked her pulse so many times my thumbprint is probably branded into the inside of her wrist. It is there. Slow. Stubborn. Like her. It refuses to disappear, no matter how much the rest of her seems to fade. The room smells of dying herbs,
NEVAEH I don’t know how long I’ve been walking. The forest is wrong. The trees lean in too close, branches twisting like fingers that forgot how to let go. Fog clings to my ankles, cold and wet, and every time I take a step the ground feels softer than it should, like it’s breathing. I keep calling out, but my voice comes back thin, swallowed by the mist before it can travel far. “Kane?” Nothing. My throat is raw. My legs ache. I don’t remember how I got here, only that one moment I was floating in darkness, distant chants echoing somewhere far away, and the next I was falling through gray into this place. I wrap my arms around myself. The air smells like wet earth and something sweeter, almost like night-blooming jasmine. It should be comforting. It isn’t. I keep moving because standing still feels worse. The path, if you can call it that, narrows until I’m brushing leaves with my shoulders. Then it opens suddenly into a small clearing. Moonlight spills down through a
RUBY The diner’s neon sign flickers outside like it’s on its last breath. I’ve been staring at the same cold french fry for twenty minutes, phone face down on the table like it personally betrayed me. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the same empty thread of texts I sent Nevaeh three days ago: “Are you alive?” “Blink twice if you need rescue.” “Seriously, I’m about to file a missing person report with your Funko Pop as evidence.” Nothing. I push the plate away. The waitress, same one who’s been here since I was sixteen, refills my coffee without asking. I murmur thanks and wrap my hands around the mug just for something warm to hold. The bell over the door jingles. I don’t need to look up to know who it is. That walk, confident, a little too swaggering, like he owns the cracked linoleum. Eldric slides into the booth across from me without asking. “You look like someone stole your last marshmallow” he remarks, stealing one of my fries. I don’t even fight him f
KANEShe yanks her hand from mine like my touch burns. Her brows knit, eyes flashing. “What the hell do you mean, what am I?” she snaps. I don’t answer right away. I just stare at the spot where her wound had been—smooth and unmarked now, like it was never there. That’s not normal. Not for someon
I stagger back from the mirror, chest heaving. That voice—low and dark, like smoke curling around my thoughts—echoes in my skull.“H-hello?” I whisper aloud, but my lips feel numb, disconnected. “Are you… my wolf?”A beat of silence.Then, the voice answers again, a little softer this time. “Yes.”
The tension is oppressive.She keeps staring at me like she’s already made peace with leaving. There’s a quiet strength in her, in the way she stands, unmoving, bracing herself. And that look? That damn look she’s giving me—like she’s already accepted it, like she’s already chosen to walk away, and
KANEMeetings. Calls. Endless reports. But my eyes keep drifting.She sits in the corner of my office—quiet, efficient—working through the files I hand her like she has something to prove. And maybe she does. That fire of hers hasn’t dimmed since the moment she walked into this place—and every damn







