The forest swallowed us whole the moment we crossed the broken gates.
No torches.
No pack paths.
Just moonlight slicing through twisted branches and the sound of my heartbeat trying to outrun my thoughts.
I didn't slow down.
Didn't look back.
Didn't ask where we were going.
If Fenris wanted to drag me somewhere dark and dangerous, he was going to have to work for it.
"You're bleeding," he said calmly behind me.
I snorted. "Congratulations. You have eyes too."
"Left heel," he added. "Stone cut. Shallow, but you're favoring it."
I stopped abruptly.
Not because of the pain—but because he was right.
I turned, glare loaded and ready.
"Are you stalking my gait now, Rogue Alpha?"
He stood a few feet away, moonlight catching the sharp lines of his face.
Unbothered. Relaxed. Like he wasn't an enemy Alpha who'd just ripped me out of my pack and into the wild.
"Habit," he said. "Survival depends on noticing weaknesses."
"Good to know," I shot back. "Because I'm not weak."
His gaze flicked to my face, intent and unreadable. "I know."
That should not have warmed my chest.
I pushed past him and kept walking.
The forest deepened.
The air grew colder.
My dress—thin, ceremonial nonsense—did nothing to protect me from the night chill or the scratches from low branches.
After ten minutes, my heel throbbed.
After twenty, my foot slipped.
Fenris caught me before I hit the ground.
One second I was falling.
The next, I was pressed against a solid chest, his hand firm at my waist.
Heat flared instantly—sharp and unwanted.
I shoved him. "Let go."
He did.
Immediately.
No arguments. No smirks and no grip tightening like I'd expected.
I nearly stumbled again from the sudden lack of support.
That threw me off more than if he'd held on.
"You don't like being touched," he said.
"I don't like strangers touching me," I corrected.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Fair."
I limped forward.
Fenris followed.
Silence stretched—thick, charged, not uncomfortable but not calm either.
Finally, I broke it. "Why me?"
He didn't answer right away.
I hated that he took his time like he wasn't worried I'd bolt or stab him or do something reckless.
"I came to observe the ceremony," he said at last.
"Packs discard assets every year.
Sometimes they become problems. Sometimes opportunities."
"Charming," I muttered.
"I didn't expect you," he continued. "No wolf. No bond. And yet—"
"And yet?" I challenged.
"You didn't smell empty."
I frowned. "What does that even mean?"
He stopped walking.
I turned, irritated. "You going to keep dropping cryptic nonsense or—"
His eyes glowed brighter.
Not threatening.
Curious.
"Most wolfless smell hollow," he said. "Like something unfinished. You don't."
A chill slid down my spine.
"I don't have a wolf," I said firmly. "Never have."
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe something else filled the space."
"That's not how this works."
"Not how packs teach it," he corrected.
I crossed my arms, defensive. "You're saying I'm broken in a special way now?"
He stepped closer—but stopped just short of invading my space.
"No," he said quietly. "I'm saying you're dangerous."
I laughed, sharp and disbelieving. "I can barely outrun you with a cut heel."
"You stood up to an Alpha who could've had you executed," Fenris said.
"You walked away without shaking. You smelled angry—not afraid."
His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lifted again.
"That kind of defiance doesn't come from nothing."
My breath caught.
I didn't like how seen I felt.
"Where are we going?" I asked, changing the subject.
"My territory."
"You said you were rogue."
"I said I don't answer to a council," he corrected.
"That doesn't mean I don't protect what's mine."
The word mine landed heavier than it should have.
We reached a clearing minutes later.
A cave entrance yawned open between ancient trees, runes carved deep into stone—old, powerful, nothing like pack markings.
Fenris crouched and started a fire with practiced ease.
I stood awkwardly, arms wrapped around myself, trying not to shiver.
"Sit," he said, nodding to a flat stone.
"I can stand."
"You can bleed more," he countered. "Or you can sit."
I sat.
He approached slowly, movements deliberate, non-threatening.
And then he knelt in front of me.
"Don't," I warned.
"Relax," he said. "I won't bite unless asked."
I rolled my eyes. "That was not reassuring."
He gently lifted my foot.
His touch was warm and careful.
Not anything I'd expect from an Alpha and a rogue at that.
I hissed as he cleaned the cut with water.
"Hold still."
"I am holding still."
"You're vibrating with attitude."
Despite myself, a laugh slipped out.
Fenris paused, surprised.
For half a second, the tension shifted—lighter, almost normal.
Then his thumb brushed my ankle.
Something sparked.
And it's pain or fear.
It was awareness.
Heat curled low in my stomach, sudden and intense.
I stiffened.
He felt it.
His jaw tightened slightly. "That's… interesting."
I swallowed. "What is?"
"That reaction," he said quietly. "You shouldn't respond to me like that."
"I shouldn't respond at all," I snapped.
"You're a stranger."
"Yes," he agreed. "Which is why this is a problem."
He finished bandaging my foot and stood, putting distance between us like he needed it.
Good.
Because I needed it too.
I rose slowly. "You said the bond isn't complete."
His gaze locked onto mine. "No."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning nothing ties you to me," he said.
"Yet."
The word echoed.
I lifted my chin. "And it won't. I didn't agree to be claimed."
His eyes darkened—not angry, but something deeper.
"Claimed isn't owned," he said. "It's chosen."
I held his stare. "Then don't choose for me."
A long silence stretched.
Then he nodded once. "I won't."
That should've reassured me.
It didn't.
Because as I lay down near the fire later, wrapped in a spare cloak that smelled like smoke and forest and him, I realized something terrifying.
My instincts weren't screaming danger.
They were whispering closer.
And somewhere deep in the woods—
A howl answered.
Not Fenris's.
Not mine.
Something had followed us.
And it knew exactly who I was.
The howl faded as quickly as it came.
Silence rushed in to replace it, thick and heavy, pressing against my ears.
Fenris was on his feet instantly.
Alert.
Every muscle in his body shifted, predator-precise, like violence was just another language he spoke fluently.
"Stay here," he said.
I nodded in silence.
He moved to the edge of the clearing, nostrils flaring, head tilting as if listening to something I couldn't hear.
The firelight carved sharp shadows across his back, emphasizing scars I hadn't noticed before—old claw marks, healed poorly, earned the hard way.
This wasn't a man who survived by luck.
This was someone who had outlived everything that tried to kill him.
"Not a pack," he muttered. "Too messy and loud."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means," he said, returning to me, "that something curious is circling."
My stomach tightened. "Curiousity usually comes before dead."
"Usually," he agreed.
I shifted closer to the fire, fingers curling into the cloak around my shoulders.
"You said this was your territory."
"It is," Fenris said. "Which means someone's testing boundaries."
"And you're okay with that?" I asked.
A slow smile curved his mouth. "I enjoy it."
Of course you do.
He crouched across from me, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze steady.
"You should sleep."
I laughed once. "You think I can sleep after that?"
"You'll heal faster if you do."
"Did you just give me medical advice?"
"I've kept people alive with worse injuries and fewer resources," he said. "Trust me."
I hesitated.
Trust wasn't something I handed out easily—especially not to a rogue Alpha with dangerous eyes and a talent for unsettling me.
Still, exhaustion tugged at my bones. The adrenaline from the ceremony, the run, the confrontation—it all came crashing down at once.
I lay back against the stone wall of the cave, firelight flickering across the ceiling.
Fenris didn't lie down.
He stayed sitting.
Watching.
"Do you always guard people while they sleep?" I murmured.
"Only the ones worth keeping alive."
My lips twitched. "High praise."
Minutes passed.
My breathing slowed despite myself.
Just as sleep threatened to claim me, I whispered, "Why didn't you complete the bond?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Fenris didn't answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was lower. Rougher.
"Because incomplete bonds don't trap," he said. "They reveal."
I frowned, eyes still closed. "Reveal what?"
"Whether the pull is real," he said. "Or just instinct dressed up as fate."
That made my chest ache in a way I didn't understand.
"And if it's real?" I asked quietly.
"Then you'll choose me," he said. "Not the moon or tradition. You."
I opened my eyes.
He was watching me—not like a predator this time, but like someone standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if the ground would give way.
No one had ever given me that choice before.
"And when you do," he said quietly, "understand this, Lyra."
The forest went silent.
"No one will be allowed to take you from me."
Something howled in the distance.
And Fenris smiled.