Fated To The Rival Pack의 모든 챕터: 챕터 1 - 챕터 8

“You don’t belong here, mate.”The word doesn’t settle it cuts.Vaelith Ardentra feels it land somewhere beneath her ribs, sharp and wrong, as if it’s trying to root itself inside her. The knife at her throat is secondary. Cold, yes. Dangerous, obviously. But it’s the word that stills her, that sends something hot and uncoiling through her veins.Mate.No.That isn’t possible. Not here. Not him.She keeps her chin lifted anyway, though the blade presses just enough to warn her what happens if she moves the wrong way. The forest around them breathes quietly too quietly for a border this contested. Even the wind seems to hold back, waiting.“I could say the same,” she replies, her voice steadier than she feels.The man in front of her doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t react much at all. He simply watches her, and that is worse.Draven Varkrys.She knew the name before she ever saw his face. Everyone did. Bloodfang’s war-born heir. The one sent when things needed ending, not negotiating. The on

“Say your name again.”Vaelith doesn’t answer right away.The request isn’t loud, isn’t sharp, yet it carries weight in a way that feels deliberate. They’ve moved deeper into the forest since the last sound threaded through the trees, cutting a careful path along terrain that grows steeper, wetter, older. The ground here holds memory. She can feel it in the way the air settles heavier against her skin.Draven slows, not stopping completely, just enough to glance back at her.“I heard you,” she says. “I don’t see why I need to repeat it.”“Because I want to hear it again.”There’s something in his tone this time something less guarded, more precise. Not suspicion exactly. Verification.Vaelith studies him as she walks, measuring the intent behind the request.“You already know who I am,” she says.“I know what you said,” he replies. “Those aren’t always the same thing.”That almost earns him a sharper response, but she lets it pass.“Vaelith Ardentra,” she says again, evenly.The momen

“Move, Vaelith.”Draven doesn’t raise his voice.He doesn’t need to.The command lands low and steady, threaded with something that carries through the bond and settles into her bones. Not dominance not exactly. Something sharper. Urgency shaped into control.“I told you,” she says, forcing her breath to even out despite the tightening in her chest. “I can’t.”The pull holds her in place at the center of the clearing, not like a restraint she can fight, but like a pressure she can’t ignore. It anchors her there, deep and insistent, as if stepping away would require tearing something unseen.Draven’s attention flicks from her to the approaching wolves, calculating distance, numbers, timing. There are more now. Five at least. Maybe six. Their movements are measured, no wasted energy, no reckless aggression.They aren’t hunting.They’re closing.Behind them, the presence in the trees lingers, closer than before. Vaelith can feel it pressing at the edges of her awareness, like a breath ju

“No one move.”Serik’s voice cuts across the clearing with sharp authority, but it no longer carries the same certainty it had minutes ago. Vaelith hears it clearly now the strain beneath the control.The creature remains at the edge of the trees.Watching.Its shape flickers subtly in the dim light, never fully settling into wolf or human. Every instinct in Vaelith’s body recoils from it, yet she cannot stop looking.Because she knows.Not exactly what it is.But that it belongs to this place.To the ritual.To whatever her father buried before she was old enough to question it.Draven’s hand remains against the side of her face for one steadying second longer before he lowers it carefully.“You still with me?” he asks quietly.Vaelith nods once.Barely.But enough.The pain in her chest has dulled into a lingering ache, though the bond feels strained now, stretched thin in places she doesn’t understand. She can still feel Draven clearly through it his focus, his restraint, the viole