Chapter 7

KELLY

The first thing I saw was light, soft, gold, and cutting through the cracks of a wooden roof. For one beautiful second, I thought maybe I was home.

Then I breathed, and the pain came rushing back.

My ribs burned, my throat felt like I’d swallowed glass, and the memories slammed into me, the dungeon, the forest, the screaming, and that voice that had whispered my name right before the world went black.

I blinked hard, forcing my eyes to focus. I was lying on a bed made of rough furs.

They were warm, but… strange. Wild. Like something had died recently to keep me comfortable.

I tried to sit up. Big mistake. White-hot pain stabbed through my side, and I gasped.

“Don’t move.”

The voice snapped through the room. Not cruel, but sharp enough to slice through my daze.

I froze, eyes darting toward the sound. Someone was sitting at a table across the cabin, broad shoulders, dark hair, sleeves rolled up past scarred arms.

He was grinding something in a wooden bowl, calm like he hadn’t just startled me half to death.

“Where… where am I?” I managed, my voice rasping.

He didn’t look up. “Alive.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters right now.”

I frowned, pressing a shaking hand to my ribs. Bandages. Fresh ones. “You did this?”

He finally glanced up, and there it was,gray eyes that looked like thunderclouds waiting to break.

“Unless you think the trees suddenly learned how to stitch wounds.”

“So you saved me.”

“Technically.” His mouth twitched, almost a smirk. “You were doing most of the bleeding yourself.”

I stared. “Why?”

“Why not?”

I rolled my eyes, wincing when it hurt. “That’s not how saving people works.”

He went back to crushing herbs. “Then maybe you’re not the kind of person who’s usually saved.”

That stung more than it should’ve. I shifted, trying to push myself up again. He was at my side in two strides, steadying me with hands that were warmer than they should be.

“Careful,” he murmured, and for a heartbeat, his tone softened.

I met his eyes. “Who are you?”

“That depends.” His lips curved into a half-smile. “Do you plan to stab me once you can stand?”

“Maybe,” I shot back. “Depends on whether you deserve it.”

He chuckled, low and quiet. “Fair.”

He stepped away, reaching for something near the fire, a small bowl, steam curling up from it. He held it out to me. “Eat. Then you can decide if I’m your captor or your savior.”

My stomach growled before I could argue. I hated that.

As he turned toward the door, I called after him, “Wait. You never told me your name.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Didn’t I?”

“No,” I said flatly.

He smiled then, quick, sharp, and gone too fast. “Call me Rune.”

The door creaked shut behind him, leaving me with the smell of pine, smoke, and too many questions.

My limbs felt like they’d been poured full of lead. Every movement reminded me of the silver chains that had once dug into my wrists, burning, biting, marking.

When I turned them over, I could still see faint scars glinting in the morning light. Pretty, in a cruel way.

As my eyes adjusted, the cabin came into focus.

Everything was small, rough, and too quiet. The air smelled of herbs, smoke, and pine, comforting if you didn’t know what kind of person usually hid this far from the pack’s walls.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the protest in my muscles.

The fur blanket slid off my lap, and I caught sight of the table where the stranger, Rune,had been working earlier.

Bowls of dried plants, jars of cloudy liquid, a dagger too sharp to be ornamental.

A healer, maybe. Or a hunter. Or both.

Pieces of memory flickered, out of order. The storm. The wind in the forest. The scream that wasn’t mine. A pair of arms catching me before the ground did.

And something else, something like static under my skin, humming in rhythm with my heartbeat.

I whispered, “Who pulled me out of there?”

“Me,” a voice answered from the shadows.

I jumped so hard my ribs screamed. Rune stepped forward from behind the doorframe, casual as if he hadn’t just materialized like a ghost.

“Do you always sneak up on injured people?” I snapped.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Only the ones who look like they might stab me if I walk too loud.”

“You really think I could stab anyone right now?”

He gave a small shrug. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you’ve lost too much to stay quiet about it.”

I hated that he was right.

My gaze flicked to the dagger on the table. “Why did you save me?” I asked again, softer this time.

Rune’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did, like he was weighing whether I deserved the truth.

“You were in the woods,” he said finally. “Bleeding, half-dead, with half the forest chasing your scent. Hard to ignore that kind of chaos.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I just didn’t want to watch someone else die.”

“Someone else?” I echoed.

The air between us thickened. He looked at me for a long time, then turned away. “Eat your soup before it goes cold.”

I watched his back as he walked toward the door again, frustration clawing at my chest.

“Rune,” I said, stopping him. “That night, when I blacked out, did you… touch me? There was something. Power. I felt it.”

He froze mid-step. For the first time, I saw it, a flicker of light under his skin, faint as moonlight under water.

He didn’t turn around when he said, “You weren’t the only one cursed that night.”

Then the door closed behind him, and I was left staring at the spot where he’d stood, the silence heavier than before.

Someone had saved me.

I didn’t remember much, the storm, the screaming, the blur of trees, but deep down, I knew who it was.

Even before my mind dared to say his name, my heart did. Kayden.

The thought made my chest twist. He was supposed to be gone.

He should’ve been gone. But I could still feel it, the faint echo of his presence like a ghost brushing against my ribs.

The cabin was silent except for the fire’s soft crackle. Shadows danced across the walls, painting the place in gold and ash.

It looked lived in, but lonely. Everything in here had a purpose, yet nothing belonged to anyone. Like a refuge built by someone who didn’t expect to stay.

My throat tightened.

He’d been here once. I could feel it.

“Kayden…” I whispered, half expecting the walls to answer.

Only the fire moved, hissing like it knew secrets I didn’t.

I pushed the furs aside and tried to stand. My body screamed in protest, but something deeper, something older kept me upright.

That’s when I felt it. A tug low in my chest, faint but steady.

It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t fear. It was her.

“Nevaeh,” I breathed.

The name alone steadied me. My daughter. My pulse synced with the quiet rhythm in my chest, the same rhythm I’d felt the moment she first cried. The bond was still there, weak, but unbroken.

“She’s still alive,” I said out loud, just to test if it hurt.

It didn’t. It healed.

From the corner of the room, a voice said quietly, “You shouldn’t move yet.”

I spun around, too fast. Rune was standing near the doorway again, a shadow cut from calm.

“You’re getting good at sneaking up on me,” I said, clutching the nearest wall for balance.

He gave a small, almost amused hum. “You’re getting worse at listening.”

“I don’t have time to listen,” I said. “She’s alive. My daughter, Nevaeh, she’s out there.”

Rune’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You felt her?”

“I know her.”

He studied me, unreadable. “You’re sure this isn’t just… hope talking?”

The way he said it made something in me snap. “Hope doesn’t pull at your chest like a heartbeat,” I said. “Hope doesn’t hurt.”

“Then we don’t have much time,” he said finally.

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He stepped closer, the fire catching in his gray eyes. “If you can feel her, others can too. Bonds like that don’t just whisper, Kelly, they call.”