The Stranger In The Shadows

Selene's point of view

I didn’t take his hand.

Not right away.

Everything about him screamed danger—rogue scent, bloodied claws, a wildness that made my wolf want to bare her throat and snap her fangs at the same time. But I was beyond caring. Beyond fear. Damon had already broken me worse than claws ever could.

So instead of flinching, I stared him down.

“What do you want?” I rasped, my voice shredded from screaming, my gown in tatters around my legs.

He lowered his hand but didn’t retreat. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting silver across his face. He was beautiful, but in a savage, untamed way. Jagged scars curved down one cheek like claw marks. His dark hair was a mess of curls, and his eyes—those glowing, moonlit eyes—were fixed entirely on me.

“I want to know why you smell like rejection,” he said simply, stepping closer. “But not ruin.”

My brow furrowed. “What?”

“Most she-wolves crawl into this forest to die after a rejection. You came in like you meant to survive.”

I huffed. Bitter. Broken. “I didn’t come to survive. I came because there was nowhere else to go.”

He crouched in front of me, not touching, just watching. Nyra stirred inside me—curious now, alert.

“What’s your name?”

“Selene,” I said quietly. Then added, because it hurt less to say it out loud, “Selene Winters. Former Luna-to-be of the Bloodhowl Pack.”

His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. “Bloodhowl. That explains the scent of arrogance on your skin.”

I should’ve bristled. Snapped. But all I did was stare at him. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

He studied me like he was trying to decide that himself. “Because I think you’re lying.”

“About what?”

He stood, towering over me, and I hated that it made me feel small. Powerless. Like I had just hours ago.

“You said you didn’t come to survive,” he said. “But you’re still breathing. Still fighting. Still staring down a stranger who could rip your throat out. That’s not the behavior of someone who’s given up.”

A beat passed. I looked away, throat tight.

“I wanted to die,” I whispered. “But now? Now I want to forget.”

“Then let me help you.”

I looked back at him sharply. “Help me?”

He nodded once, solemn. “The Shadow Forest doesn’t take the weak. But it gives the broken a choice. You can let it devour you—or you can let it make you into something else.”

Something else.

I thought of Damon’s cold eyes. His cruel voice. The gasps and laughter as I fled. The pain in Nyra’s chest as the bond frayed.

“I don’t want to be a Luna anymore,” I said.

He tilted his head again. “Then don’t be.”

My heart thudded.

“Be something else. Something stronger.”

I blinked. “What would that even look like?”

His expression turned almost reverent. “It looks like a she-wolf who doesn’t need a mate to be powerful. It looks like claws, and teeth, and the kind of fire that doesn’t burn out—it burns down.”

Something in me cracked open.

Not pain.

Not grief.

Something deeper. Wilder.

Nyra lifted her head inside me. And for the first time since Damon’s rejection, she didn’t whimper.

She growled.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Killian.”

“Are you a rogue?”

He smirked. “I’m something worse.”

Before I could ask what that meant, a howl pierced the night. Not from Killian. From deeper in the forest. Not human, not wolf. Something... other.

Killian’s smirk vanished. “We need to move.”

“Move?”

“Unless you want to meet the ones who really rule these woods, Princess, I suggest you get up.”

I didn’t ask questions. I stood—painfully, awkwardly—and followed him.

And as I stepped over roots and shadows, deeper into the forest, deeper into the unknown, one thought stayed with me:

I wasn’t Selene the Luna anymore.

I didn’t know who I was yet.

But I was going to find out.

And when I did, I’d make Damon Voss regret every word.

Every choice.

Every second he thought I wasn’t strong enough.

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