Chapter 4

Aria’s Pov

The heavy iron gate of Crescent Moon was slammed shut behind me, as darkness began to flicker in the sky I was determined to journey alone into nowhere. I felt a crushing sense of despair as the mate bond had been severed leaving me empty. Nyra, my wolf was just a faint whisper in my mind.

“We are alone,” she whispers, barely heard.

The forest stretched out before me. It was dark and unending. The air outside the territory was colder, sharper as though the wind knew I no longer had a home. Ronan’s words echoed on my ears, “Leave before dawn or be dragged out,” the humiliation cuts deeper than any wound. I fell on my knees to beg only to be met by his dismissive look.

The moon light shined bright through the branches and as I moved deeper into the forest for hours my legs felt weak.

The tall trees loomed around me, every crack of a twig made me jump, and each rustle of leaves had me turn around expecting danger. I was now prey – a solitary wolf without a pack, without any means of protection. The forest was aware of my vulnerability.

As time went on, I felt hungry and my stomach ached, my throat got dried up. I only managed to take a few items with me and water wasn't included.

When I came across a stream, I knelt beside the water and cupped my hands to drink. It became clear to me of the harsh reality of my situation.

Then, I heard a growl.

It was low and threatening, coming from somewhere behind me.

I froze, the water from my hand dripping to the ground. My heart raced as I slowly turned to look. Yellow eyes glowed in the shadows among the trees. Then more eyes appeared. And even more.

Rogues.

I quickly moved backwards, my fingers grabbing the dagger at my waist. Three of them rushed out into the open space closer to me, their grins wild and savage.

Their fur was in a mess and filthy, their bodies gaunt with hunger. I could sense their madness – the desperate scent of wolves who had lost everything.

Not in the mood for company,” I called out, though my voice was unsteady.

They laughed. An actual, cruel laughter.

The first wolf ran towards me, its saliva dripping from its bare teeth. The other two behind it had strong shapes filled with rage.

I quickly moved to my left side, slashing my dagger across its flank. It screamed but recovered quickly, and he tried to block my escape, another rogue hit me from the side, claws tearing at my arm and slammed me into my side. I went down immediately.

The cold water touched my skin making me breathless and I tried to stand on my feet. My ribs ached from the impact but I forced myself to move.

A flash of teeth came for my throat from the third rogue, and I moved quickly, just enough to make the rogue fall to the ground. My breaths came in ragged gasps, I was outnumbered, outmatched and already weak.

This was it. This was how I would die. Alone. Forgotten. Torn apart by the very wolves I should have considered family.

Then, just as the first wolf came again, I was pushed back mid-air. I blinked, as a dark figure moved through their midst with impossible speed.

One by one, he fought the rogues, and one was covered in a pool of blood while others were trying to be brave and kept on fighting. The stranger’s movements were precise, brutal and almost inhuman.

As the last two wolves wanted to disappear into the forest, the stranger moved quickly, silently precise and brutal. In a moment they went down. Then the figure straightened and walked towards me wearing a dark cloak.

I stared at him. He was tall and lean, with dark hair falling on his face. When he turned to look at me, I met his silver eyes – they seemed to see right through me.

"Who are you?" I managed to whisper.

“Someone who doesn’t feel like watching you bleed out tonight.” He said quickly in a rough voice.

He moved closer to check the bodies making sure they were truly dead.

I should have fled. Every instinct screamed at me to escape. This man—if he truly was a man—had just taken out three rogues effortlessly. But I couldn’t move. Part of me was afraid while another part had a strange connection to him.

"Come," he said, turning away. "Unless you want to explain to their pack why you’re drenched in their blood."

Looking down at myself, my clothes were torn and there were scratches on my arms, I felt sick. That was when I noticed I was covered in blood. Yet, I followed him anyway.

He moved quickly but with an easy, practiced grace. I tried to match his pace while thought filled my mind.

He led me through the deep forest paths I would not be able to find by myself. The air shifted with some ancient and wild energy.

We broke through the last trees into a small space. At its center was a hidden cabin. It was dark and looked empty

Inside, the linger smell of cedar filled the air, and it also smelt like burnt herbs. The cabin had a narrow bed, and a broken table at the center.

“Why did you help me?" I asked as he stirred the fire.

He stared at me, “Because you’re not ready to die. Not yet.”

“What’s your name?”

"Raven."

It suited him. Dark with a hint of danger.

I sat on a chair by the fire, exhausted. The cabin warmth my skin, but I couldn’t let my guard down. Not here. Not with him.

Raven moved around the cabin, carefully and controlled like he wanted to strike at any moment.

Then I heard it.

A howl echoed from deep in the woods. It was not a pack howl but something different, Older and it sounded hungrier

The cabin trembled. Claws scraped against the wood outside, long and deliberate. The scent of blood filtered through the cracks.

Raven’s silver eyes suddenly brightened with an otherworldly light. He grasped his sword and stood.

"Whatever happens tonight," he said, his tone barely human, "don’t open that door."