The witch’s promise lingered in Aria’s mind long after they left the grove. Zara walked ahead in silence, leading them through tangled underbrush and shallow creeks, but Aria’s thoughts burned hotter than the cold wind lashing her face.
“When the Alpha’s house begins to fall…”
The words echoed like a prophecy.
She hadn’t expected the witch to demand something so… poetic. But perhaps that was the nature of power. It didn’t come in neat exchanges or simple transactions. It came in riddles and sacrifices.
The witch had smeared something bitter-smelling across Aria’s pulse points—neck, wrists, inner thighs—and whispered incantations in an old tongue. Aria hadn’t understood the words, but the way her body pulsed afterward—silent, scentless to wolf senses—told her it had worked.
She was invisible now.
To Kael.
To the entire pack.
To fate itself, if only for a time.
“I can’t stay in the territory,” Aria said as they reached a narrow clearing. “Not even on the outskirts. Someone will sniff out the lie eventually.”
Zara turned. “Then we go where wolves don’t rule. East. Toward the human border.”
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
Aria hesitated. “I’ve never crossed over. They don’t trust our kind.”
“Then it’s perfect. Kael will never look for you there.”
The thought tightened something in Aria’s chest. Would he look for her? Would there come a day when he realized what he had thrown away?
Would he regret it?
The cruel answer was: it didn’t matter.
She couldn’t afford to care. Not now. Not when every heartbeat echoed inside her twice—once for herself, and once for the child she was sworn to protect.
They moved quickly, staying off the main paths. Aria avoided looking back, but the forest seemed to breathe with them, like it knew she was leaving behind more than land—it was history she was shedding. Identity. Name. Pack.
By nightfall, they reached a derelict cabin tucked into a thicket of junipers. Zara pried the door open and ushered her inside.
“No one’s used this place in years,” she muttered, brushing dust from a crooked chair. “But it’s a roof.”
Aria collapsed onto the cot in the corner. The mattress was thin, but she didn’t care. Her bones ached. Her mind raced. She pressed a hand to her belly.
Still barely noticeable. But not for long.
“I can’t keep running forever,” she whispered.
Zara sat beside her, eyes softening. “You don’t have to. We’ll find a place. Somewhere safe. Somewhere the child can be born free of him.”
The thought made Aria shiver. Free of Kael. Could a child be free of the man who sired him? Would her son—or daughter—carry Kael’s eyes? His growl? His fury?
Would they ask, someday, why he wasn’t there?
Would she be strong enough to answer?
Zara reached into her satchel and pulled out a small tin. “Eat something. You haven’t had a real meal in a day.”
Aria took the dry bread, grateful. As she chewed, she stared at the flickering fire Zara had coaxed to life in the hearth.
“I loved him,” she said suddenly. The words cracked open in her chest, raw and trembling. “I loved him so much it felt like I couldn’t breathe without him. And now…”
Zara waited.
“Now I’m afraid of what I’ll become if I don’t let that love die.”
Zara’s voice was gentle but firm. “Let it die. Let it burn. And from the ashes, you’ll rise into something stronger.”
Aria swallowed hard. She wanted to believe that. Needed to.
The firelight cast dancing shadows on the cabin walls. In the silence that followed, Aria leaned into it—into the flicker of warmth, the illusion of safety.
But deep in her bones, the truth throbbed.
Kael was still Alpha.
He still held power over the land, the council, the laws.
And one day, he might learn the truth.
That she had carried his heir.
That he had cast away more than a mate.
He had cast away a legacy.
And by then… it would be too late.
The dream came uninvited.
Aria stood in the council hall again. But this time, she was cloaked in red, her hair unbound, eyes glowing silver. She held a child in her arms—small, dark-haired, with a growl already rising in its throat.
The Elders looked on, faces pale. Kael stood at the center, no longer the Alpha. His eyes met hers, filled with something he had never shown before—regret.
“You hid him from me,” he whispered.
“You gave me no choice,” she said, voice cold as winter.
The child snarled.
Aria awoke with a gasp.
Her hand flew to her belly. A flutter—real or imagined—answered.
She sat up, breath catching.
“Are you okay?” Zara stirred across the room, instantly alert.
“A dream,” Aria murmured. “But it felt… like a warning.”
Zara moved beside her. “Then we move faster.”
Aria nodded, heart pounding. She no longer had the luxury of waiting. Every passing day brought Kael closer to discovering her absence meant more than heartbreak. The council would wonder. Whispers would rise.
She had to disappear completely before the truth began to grow not just in her body—but in the rumors that would spread like wildfire through the pack lands.
She met Zara’s eyes. “We head for the human cities tomorrow.”
Zara didn’t blink. “Then we leave before dawn.”
Outside, the wind howled against the warped wood of the cabin, but inside, Aria felt something settle for the first time since her world had shattered.
She had a direction now. A purpose.
Kael had broken their bond.
But she would build a new one—with her child, with her own strength, and maybe, someday, with vengeance.
