Thalia could hear her father's guards long before she saw them. Their pursuit announced itself in the disciplined rhythm of boots striking earth, in the sharp crackle of branches snapped under careless haste. She had made no attempt to hide her passage through the forest. Panic and purpose had driven her forward, and stopping to aid the wolf had cost her the precious distance she might have gained beneath the canopy of ancient trees. She knew that. She accepted it.
And yet, she did not regret her choice.
Every instinct she possessed, older and deeper than the lessons carved into her by centuries of courtly obedience, had compelled her to stop. Even when the wolf had snarled, lips curling back to reveal glistening fangs, even when fear had flared white-hot in her chest, something else had overridden it. A certainty. A quiet, unshakable knowing that leaving him there would be a far greater betrayal than defying her father ever could be.
Silver burned werewolves. That much was indisputable. It burned vampires as well, though her kind rarely spoke of it. Pain was a familiar companion to immortals, a reminder that eternity did not equate to invulnerability. Silver was used in punishments, in trials, in the crueler lessons meant to temper fledglings into obedience. Thalia had endured it before. She had learned to keep her face impassive while her skin blistered and split.
Knowing that did not make it easier.
The moment her fingers closed around the blood-slick metal of the trap, agony flared through her palms. The silver seared her flesh, heat and pain racing up her arms as though the metal itself resented her touch. She bit down on her lip, refusing to cry out, and leaned her weight into the mechanism. Blood from the wolf's wound coated her hands, warm and sticky, mixing with her own as the trap resisted her efforts.
She did not stop.
A low, broken growl tore from the wolf's chest, and Thalia looked up despite herself. His eyes met hers, molten gold burning against the darkness of the clearing. In that instant, the truth struck her with startling clarity. He could kill her. One snap of those jaws, one swipe of his massive paw, and her defiance would end here, beneath the trees. Every tale her father had ever told her about werewolves whispered through her mind, stories of savagery and bloodlust, of monsters barely leashed by skin and shape.
And yet, he did not move.
Despite the silver biting into his flesh, despite the pain that must have been radiating through his body, he remained still. His muscles trembled beneath his fur, breath coming in harsh pulls, but he allowed her to work. Trusted her.
At last, with a final wrench, the trap gave way. The wolf tore his paw free with a sharp sound of tearing flesh, and Thalia staggered backward, nearly losing her footing on the leaf-strewn ground. She scrambled away on instinct, pressing herself against the trunk of a nearby tree as the guards' footsteps grew louder, closer, inevitable. In mere moments, they would burst into the clearing. In mere moments, she would be dragged back to the castle and its suffocating walls, her brief taste of defiance crushed beneath her father's will.
"There," she said, forcing her voice into an even, controlled cadence. Years of court training guided her tone, smoothing away panic and pain alike. She drew her burned hands toward her body, tucking them out of sight. "You're free."
She half expected him to flee.
Instead, the wolf lowered himself onto his haunches and began to lick at the bleeding wound. Thalia's throat tightened at the sight. The scent of blood drifted through the air, rich and intoxicating, far more tempting than she cared to admit after a day of forced restraint. She focused on steadying her breath, on anchoring herself to the moment.
But there was something else beneath the copper tang. Something warm. Comforting. The scent reminded her, absurdly, of fresh bread pulled from an oven, of tea steeping quietly in the evenings she had stolen in the library. It unsettled her more than the blood did. She clenched her jaw and tore her gaze away, furious with herself for the way her senses betrayed her.
The wolf stilled, ears twitching.
He had heard the guards too.
His attention snapped back to her, and for a heartbeat they simply stared at one another, the clearing holding its breath. Then he moved. Not away. Toward her.
Thalia's heart slammed against her ribs. She pressed herself harder against the tree, bark biting into her back, her body going rigid with tension. When he drew close, she closed her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she tilted her head and exposed her throat, baring the most vulnerable part of herself.
If this was how it ended, she would not resist.
Death, she decided, would be a mercy compared to returning to her father's gilded cage.
A sound, soft and aching, broke the silence.
She opened her eyes.
The sorrow in his gaze stole the breath from her lungs. The anger and fear she had seen moments before were gone, replaced by something that mirrored her own exhaustion. His massive head lowered, and the tip of his nose brushed her cheek, nudging away a tear she had not realized had fallen. Her chest hitched.
Tentatively, she raised her hand. She moved slowly, deliberately, giving him every opportunity to pull away. When her fingers finally threaded into the thick fur of his face, the wolf exhaled and closed his eyes. His tail flicked once behind him, the smallest, most human gesture she had ever seen from such a creature.
For one fragile moment, the world narrowed to the two of them.
Then it shattered.
"My lady," a voice called sharply.
Thalia turned as one of her father's guards stepped into the clearing, his expression pale beneath the rigid professionalism of his uniform. His gun was already drawn, held in a trembling grip. Three more followed, spreading out among the trees, weapons raised, eyes fixed on the wolf.
Instinctively, the wolf shifted. He rose and moved in front of her, a living wall of muscle and fur between her and the guns trained on him. A low growl vibrated through his chest, reverberating against her bones.
"He won't hurt me," Thalia said, pushing herself upright with as much grace as she could muster. Pain lanced through her hands, but she did not allow it to show. She lifted her chin, meeting the guard's gaze with cool authority honed over centuries. "Lower your weapon."
The guard hesitated, fear flickering across his face as his grip tightened. The others adjusted their stances, fingers twitching near triggers.
As Thalia stepped forward, she leaned close to the wolf's ear. Her voice dropped to a whisper meant for him alone.
"I'll distract them," she murmured. "Run."
She took another step.
The ground gave way beneath her foot.
Silver clamped shut around her ankle with a vicious snap, pain detonating through her body in a blinding surge. At the same time, a gun went off, bullet lodging deep in the rear leg of the wolf. Her scream tore free before she could stop it, echoing once through the clearing before darkness surged up to meet her, dragging her into unconsciousness as the world fell away.