Updated Sep 16, 2025 • ~2 min read
The battle ended as suddenly as it began. The rogues scattered back into the forest, their howls fading into silence, leaving the village smoldering with blood and smoke. Wolves shifted back into human form, their bodies slick with sweat and scars.
Mira sat against the splintered cart, her chest rising in shallow, frantic breaths. Her hands still shook from gripping the spear, her knees weak beneath her. She had faced death before—but never so close, never with claws aimed at her throat.
Darius approached, still half-shadowed by the beast within. His shirt was torn, blood streaking his arm, but his golden eyes burned as fiercely as ever.
“You shouldn’t have been on the front line,” he growled, his voice sharp, heavy with something that sounded too much like fear.
Mira’s throat tightened. “I didn’t choose it. They came for me.”
His jaw flexed, his hands clenching at his sides as though he fought the urge to touch her. “Next time, stay back. I won’t risk—”
She cut him off, her voice trembling but steady. “I won’t hide while others bleed. If that’s what you expect from me, you chose wrong.”
The bond flared between them, hot and undeniable. He leaned closer, his presence filling her lungs until she couldn’t breathe. “This isn’t about choice, Mira. It’s about survival.”
Her pulse raced. The words should have stung, but the intensity in his eyes told another truth—one he would never say aloud. He hadn’t been afraid for the pack. He had been afraid for her.
For a moment, the world narrowed to just them, smoke curling around their bodies like a veil. Mira’s skin prickled, her heart betraying her resolve with every erratic beat.
She tore her gaze away, forcing her legs to hold her as she stood. “I don’t need your protection.”
But as she walked past him, the bond pulsed sharp and insistent, whispering the truth neither of them dared admit: she already had it.
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