2.

Rayna POV

Pain.

That’s all I felt at first.

Not sharp. Not immediate. Just… deep. Like a wound that started inside me and is bleeding outward. A slow, dragging ache that pulls me down into darkness.

I blink. Once. Twice.

The world comes back in broken pieces -moonlight filtering through thick branches, the scent of moss and pine, and a throbbing behind my eyes like I’ve been trampled.

I’m lying on the forest floor. Alive. Barely.

Something moves nearby - quiet, deliberate. I freeze. The growl I heard before wasn’t a dream.

Branches shift, and a shape steps into view.

A wolf. Massive. The biggest one I ever saw in my life. Dark gray fur mottled with silver. Eyes like molten gold - intelligent, narrowed, watching me.

Not anyone from my pack.

I struggle to sit up, breath catching in my throat. My limbs feel like they’re full of broken glass. My wolf is still curled deep inside, quiet now, dazed.

The wolf circles once. Then twice. Then he shifts. Bones crack. Limbs stretch. Fur vanishes into skin.

And then he’s standing there. A man. Naked. Unbothered.

Towering, broad-shouldered, lean muscle cut in hard lines across his chest and abdomen. Scars ribbon over one side of his torso. There’s blood on his jaw -  something or someone else’s, not mine for sure - and a cruel gleam in his eyes that makes something deep in me coil tight.

He doesn’t speak. Just looks at me. Like he’s deciding whether I’m worth the trouble of killing.

I scramble backward, heart thudding. “Stay back.”

His lip twitches. Not quite a smile. Certainly not friendly.

“You smell like rejection,” he says, voice low and rough. “Fresh. Bitter.”

My face burns. I clench my fists even though I’m trembling. “Are you going to kill me or just insult me?”

That gets a dark, sharp sound out of him. A laugh. “I haven’t decided yet.”

I lift my chin. “Then make up your mind.”

The man crouches in front of me, eyes scanning my face. His scent hits me then - pine, smoke, something colder beneath. Not pack. Definitely rogue.

“You’re brave,” he murmurs. “Or stupid.”

“Why not both?”

Another pause. He stares at me like he’s seeing something I don’t.

Then: “What’s your name?”

I hesitate. Names have power. Especially out here.

“…Rayna.”

He studies me for a beat longer. Then rises and turns his back on me.

“You’re lucky,” he says over his shoulder. “It’s not your night to die.” And then he disappears into the trees like he was never there.

The forest swallows him whole, as if it hadn’t just dropped a wolf twice my size at my feet and let him decide whether I lived or died.

I don’t move for a long moment. I’m not sure I can.

The world is quiet again, the clearing dim except for the ghostlight of the moon bleeding through the trees. My hands press into the mossy earth, shaky and scraped. My breath saws in and out of my chest like I’ve been running for hours.

Eventually, I force myself to sit up fully - and that’s when I see it.

My dress. Or… what’s left of it.

Torn halfway down the side, shredded across the hem. The neckline is stretched, almost ripped through. The entire left sleeve is gone, exposing my bare arm, shoulder, and too much of the soft skin above my ribs. Claw marks. Not deep - more like the aftermath of a shift that almost happened.

My heart lurches.

I didn’t remember shifting. But I must’ve started to. That would explain the ache in my bones. The way my wolf had pushed forward, panicked and feral, then collapsed just before everything went dark.

I look down at my legs - more scratches. Some dried blood. A few fresh bruises blooming along my thigh. Nothing serious.

Nothing that explains why I feel like I’ve been cracked wide open.

And then I see the cloak. Still wrapped around me.

Barely smudged. Almost completely intact, even though I tumbled gods-know-how-far through the woods and scraped myself bloody on half the trees in this forest.

I frown.

It doesn’t make sense. The clasp is still latched at my throat. The hem is only dusted with leaves. It’s like something kept it from the same violence that tore through my clothes.

The wind shifts, and the faint scent of rosemary reaches my nose again. Odd.

I pull it tighter over my shoulders. It suddenly feels like the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

Embarrassment creeps up my spine as I stand, arms crossed, conscious of the way the fabric clings to the wrong places and leaves too many others exposed.

If that rogue had looked just a little longer.. - My cheeks burn. I push the thought away. - This is not what should I be worried now. He had the opportunity to kill me. 

If he found me. Than anyone could..

I need water. To clean up before the wounds heal completely and leave behind nothing but blood-stained skin and shame.

And I need shelter.

Somewhere to curl up for the night and try not to remember the look in Aiden’s eyes when he said those words. The sound of the laughter that followed. The weight of a bond that no longer exists.

I press my hand over my chest. It still hurts.

I sniff the air and turn my head toward the breeze. The woods carry more than scent - they carry memory. I follow the faint scent of water: mineral-rich, a hint of moss and something cold and clean.

A stream. It’s not far. My wolf stirs, weak but alert, guiding me through the undergrowth.

The moon follows me as I go - bright, watchful, far too quiet. The silence is too loud.

I keep expecting another growl, another flash of golden eyes in the dark, but the rogue doesn’t come back.

Part of me isn’t sure if I’m relieved… or disappointed.