Kael The dawn air is sharp and cold, slicing through the courtyard like a blade. My warriors move with efficient precision, forming patrol lines as the day’s orders are barked across the grounds. It should bring me a measure of reassurance, seeing them ready, alert.It doesn’t.The unease coiling in my gut has nothing to do with our defenses. It’s something far more dangerous.It’s her.Elara’s scent has been gnawing at me since the moment I woke.Or rather, the lack of it.I’d expected to smell her the second I stepped into the corridor. She’s always there, a quiet, constant presence lingering like wildflowers and rain. But today… nothing. The emptiness is wrong, jarring, like walking into a room where a fire has just been extinguished.At first, I told myself it was nothing. That she was still sleeping, curled in her bed, safe where I’d ordered her to remain.But now, with the sun climbing higher and still no sign of her, that unease sharpens into something primal.Fear.Not for me
ElaraThe silence between us has become unbearable.It’s a living thing, wrapping around my throat until every breath feels stolen.Kael hasn’t spoken to me since last night. Not really. He gave me orders, not words. Instructions, not comfort. When I looked into his eyes, I saw a storm brewing there—a storm that terrified me far more than the rogues at our gates.Because I’m starting to wonder if I’m not fighting just Garrick anymore.I’m fighting Kael, too.I pace the confines of my chamber, my bare feet whispering against the stone floor. The walls feel closer today, the shadows darker. I’ve been locked inside like a prisoner, “for my safety,” Kael said.But I don’t feel safe. I feel… trapped.My thoughts circle endlessly, replaying the conversation we had last night.The way his jaw tightened when I asked if he trusted me.The split-second hesitation before he answered.The silence that screamed louder than any words.He doesn’t trust me.And if he doesn’t trust me, he’ll never see
KaelThe stronghold has become a cage.Not for Elara. For me.Every corridor, every whisper, every sidelong glance feels like a blade at my back. The attack two nights ago was a declaration of war, and my warriors want blood. But instead of leading them into battle, I’m trapped here, chasing ghosts.Or worse—chasing shadows that may lead me to her.The spy is real. The tracks our scouts found don’t lie. A rogue or Bloodfang wolf is somewhere within my borders, moving unseen among my people.And yet, every time I try to focus on the hunt, my mind drifts back to Elara.The way she flinched when I last touched her, as though my hand burned her.The bruises fading from her skin, reminders of the fight with Leira.The way her eyes seem to search mine, desperate for something I can’t give her.I’ve been avoiding her, keeping my distance. It’s the only way to keep her safe—from my curse and from the suspicions building around her like storm clouds.But no matter how far I step back, my wolf
ElaraThe air in the stronghold feels heavier than usual, as if the very walls are holding their breath.Two days ago, the attack was chaos—blood, screams, and the terrifying sound of Kael’s wolf tearing through the battlefield. Now, silence has replaced the noise, and it’s somehow worse. Every corner of the packhouse hums with unease, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap.And at the center of it all stands Kael.He’s been… different since that night.Colder.Distant.As if some invisible wall has risen between us.At first, I told myself I was imagining it. After all, I’ve been on edge too. The attack left me shaken, and the memory of Leira’s claws tearing into my skin still makes me flinch when someone moves too quickly near me.But Kael’s withdrawal is real.He still protects me—his warriors bow when I pass, and no one dares lay a hand on me—but he no longer sees me. His gaze skims past me like I’m part of the furniture, something to be acknowledged only when necessary.And
KaelThe courtyard reeks of blood and fear.Even after two days, the stench clings to the stones, a constant reminder of my failure. Warriors move with grim efficiency, cleaning weapons and tending to wounded comrades. Every movement is sharp, purposeful, and laced with barely contained rage.My pack wants war.My wolf demands it.And yet, I stand still in the center of the chaos, forcing myself to think instead of act. Acting on instinct is how enemies win.“Alpha,” Roran says, falling into step beside me. His tone is clipped, his face drawn tight with exhaustion. None of us have slept much since the attack. “The scouts returned an hour ago. They found more signs along the northern ridge. Rogues and Bloodfang tracks, together.”As expected. I grind my teeth. “Garrick has finally revealed himself.”Roran hesitates. “You’re certain it’s him?”“Who else?” My voice is sharp enough to cut. “No rogue pack could coordinate an attack of this size alone. This was planned. Calculated.”Roran d
ElaraThe stronghold feels different now.It’s not just the added patrols or the sharp edge to the warriors’ voices as they pass in the corridors. It’s deeper than that—like the very stones are holding their breath.The aftermath of the rogue attack lingers like smoke, clinging to everything. Where there was once quiet wariness, there’s now outright suspicion. And I am at the very center of it.Everywhere I go, I feel eyes on me. Not just watching. Judging.I keep my head down as I sweep the hall outside Kael’s war room, trying to become invisible. It’s a skill I perfected in Bloodfang. The less they noticed me, the less they hurt me. But here, it doesn’t seem to matter how small I make myself.I still hear the whispers.“Why would Garrick send her here if he plans to go to war?” a sharp female voice hisses from around the corner.My broom freezes mid-sweep.Two voices. Close. They don’t know I’m here—or they don’t care.“That’s just it,” another replies, lower, urgent. “It doesn’t ma