"Some bonds were made to be tested. Others were made to survive the fire."
The night was heavy.
The kind of heavy that seeped into your bones, settling under the skin, whispering ancient fears to the heart. Like an old song remembered in fragments, it carried warnings in its darkness—primal instincts awakening with each passing hour.
The fire in my room had burned low, the embers casting a soft, dying glow across the stone floor. Occasional sparks leapt from the fading coals, brief flashes of orange-gold that illuminated the unfamiliar contours of a room that should have felt like home but didn't.
I slept fitfully, twisted in the silver-threaded blankets, my body heavy with exhaustion and my mind restless with dreams I couldn't hold onto. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids—fragments of memories and fears braided together into something both familiar and strange.
Running through moonlit forests. The taste of freedom on my tongue. The scent of pine and earth and him. The sound of my own desperate howl echoing through empty valleys.
In my dreams, I was chasing something I couldn't name—or perhaps being chased by something I refused to acknowledge. The harder I ran, the more tangled the forest became, branches reaching out like greedy fingers to catch my hair, my skin, my heart.
I tossed and turned, the sheets wrapping around my legs like bindings. Sweat gathered at my temples despite the chill in the air. My heart raced, pounding against my ribs as if trying to escape.
And then — It hit me.
Like a blade through the soul.
I bolted upright in bed, gasping, clutching the sheets to my chest as a wave of agony slammed into me—so deep, so raw, I thought my own bones might splinter under the weight of it. The pain wasn't physical—or at least, not just physical. It was deeper, more fundamental—a pain that existed on a level I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge in long years.
Kael.
It was Kael.
I knew it in the marrow of my bones, in the beat of my heart, in the shimmering pulse of the bond that tethered us. The bond I had tried so desperately to ignore during dinner, the connection I had convinced myself was nothing but a lingering echo of what had once been.
But this—this was no echo.
This was a scream.
He was suffering.
Beyond reason. Beyond endurance. Beyond anything a wolf—or a man—should bear.
And I could feel it.
His pain was my pain.
His agony was my breath.
It coursed through the bond like wildfire, consuming every thought, every emotion, until there was nothing left but the overwhelming certainty that something was terribly wrong. The sensation was almost too much to process—like drowning and burning all at once, like being torn apart from the inside out.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, willing the connection away, willing myself not to move. The rational part of me—the human part that had learned to survive alone, that had built walls higher than Crescent Hall itself—tried desperately to regain control.
This isn't your battle anymore.You owe him nothing.Stay here. Stay safe.
But the bond didn't listen.
It howled through me, desperate and furious, dragging my soul toward him with claws and teeth. The wolf in me—the part I had suppressed for so long—surged forward, responding to the call of its mate with a ferocity that left me breathless.
Mate.
The word echoed in my mind, a truth I had been running from since the day I left.
I threw off the covers and stumbled to my feet, my body moving before my mind caught up. The stone floor was cold beneath my bare feet, but I barely noticed. All I could feel was the urgent pull of the bond, drawing me toward him with a strength that defied all logic, all reason, all the carefully constructed barriers I had built between us.
I didn't know where his room was.
I didn't need to.
The bond would guide me.
And it did.
I ran.
Through darkened halls lit only by the occasional torch, flames dancing in their sconces as I rushed past. The ancient tapestries and worn stone walls blurred in my vision, reduced to streaks of color and texture as I moved. My night dress—billowed around my legs, the fabric whispering against my skin like a warning I couldn't understand.
The air was sharp and cold against my skin, but I barely felt it. My senses were overwhelmed by the connection that pulled me forward, that drowned out all other sensations with its desperate urgency.
All I could feel was him.
A beacon of pain burning so brightly it blotted out everything else.
I'm coming. Hold on.
The thought wasn't deliberate—it flowed through the bond unbidden, a promise I wasn't sure I had the right to make. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our shared history, not the betrayal that hung between us, not the separation that should have severed the connection but somehow hadn't.
All that mattered was reaching him before it was too late.
I rounded a corner too fast and nearly slipped, catching myself against the rough stone wall. The impact sent a jolt of pain up my arm, grounding me momentarily in physical sensation. My hands shook against the cool stone, fingers scraping against the rough surface. My breath came in harsh gasps, lungs burning with the effort of maintaining my pace.
But I didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
The bond wouldn't let me.
It led me through the maze of Crescent Hall—left, right, up a flight of narrow stairs worn smooth by generations of packmates—until I reached a long corridor shrouded in shadow. Moonlight spilled through tall, narrow windows set high in the walls, casting alternating patches of silver light and deep darkness across the floor. The air here was different—heavier, charged with an energy that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end.
At the far end, two guards stood stiffly outside a heavy wooden door marked with the Crescent Fang sigil—a wolf's head surrounded by a perfect crescent moon, carved deep into the ancient wood and inlaid with silver that gleamed in the dim light.
I didn't need to ask.
I knew.
Kael was behind that door.
And he was drowning.
I could feel it—the chaotic surge of his emotions, the desperate battle being waged within him. Whatever was happening, it was tearing him apart from the inside. The bond between us pulsed with each wave of his agony, each moment of his struggle.
I surged forward, my bare feet silent against the stone floor, but the guards immediately moved to block me. They were both tall, broad-shouldered men with the watchful eyes of born predators. One had a jagged scar running down the side of his face—an old wound that had healed poorly. The other was younger, his posture betraying his tension as I approached.
"Miss Hart," the scarred one said, his voice firm but not unkind. "The Alpha has ordered he not be disturbed."
I shook my head, the bond lashing inside me like a live wire, sending jolts of desperate urgency through my veins. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a countdown to something I couldn't name but feared with every fiber of my being.
"You don't understand," I rasped, my voice rough with emotion and panic. "He's—he's not—I have to—"
Words failed me. How could I explain what I felt through the bond? How could I make them understand the terror that clawed at my insides, the absolute certainty that if I didn't reach him soon, something irreparable would happen?
"No one is allowed inside," the second guard said, stepping forward. His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his blade—not drawing it, but making it clear he was prepared to if necessary. "Alpha's orders were explicit."
A hand landed lightly but firmly on my shoulder, guiding me back. The touch was respectful but unyielding—a clear message that I would not be passing.
I stared at them, frustration and desperation warring inside me. The bond surged again, stronger this time, carrying with it a fresh wave of Kael's suffering. My knees nearly buckled under the weight of it.
I didn't have time for this.
He's suffering.
He needs you.
The realization struck me with the force of physical blow. Despite everything that had happened between us, in this moment, he needed me. And I needed to reach him.
Something ancient stirred under my skin—deeper than magic, older than blood. The power that had been dormant, the gift that had marked me as different even among the wolves.
The power gifted to me by the Moon.
It rose like a tide, cool and merciless, swirling around me in silver tendrils that were invisible to the human eye but unmistakable to wolves. The air grew dense with it, charged with potential. The temperature dropped several degrees in moments, frost blooming in delicate patterns across the stone floor beneath my feet.
The guards' eyes widened.
They felt it too—the sudden shift in the air, the raw energy vibrating through the stones beneath our feet. Their postures changed instantly, shifting from wary to defensive.
One of them reached for his weapon, drawing the silver-edged blade that glinted dangerously in the moonlight. "Miss Hart," he said, voice tense with warning. "Stand down."
Too late.
I didn't think.
I simply moved.
With a flick of my wrist—a twist of my fingers fueled by instinct and something deeper—the power snapped outward like a whip. It moved through me and beyond me, an extension of will made manifest in the physical world. Silver light, bright as the moon itself, flashed through the corridor.
The guards were lifted off their feet, thrown back against the walls with a heavy thud that shook the corridor. Their weapons clattered to the floor, skidding across stone with a metallic scrape that echoed in the sudden silence.
Not dead.
Not even bleeding.
Just unconscious.
Out of my way.
I didn't stop to check them more thoroughly. Didn't apologize for what I'd done. The bond was screaming now, a constant wail of agony that drowned out all thought, all reason, all hesitation.
I crossed the threshold, my hand slamming against the heavy wooden door. The silver inlay burned against my palm—a warning, a test, a reminder of the ancient pact between the Moon and the wolves who served her.
It didn't budge.
The door was locked—not just with physical mechanisms but with magic. I could feel it, layers of protective spells woven into the wood itself, designed to keep everyone out.
Or maybe to keep something in.
Another pulse of magic.
I gathered the power that swirled around me, drawing it into my core and then pushing it outward with all the force I could muster. The silver light flared again, brighter this time, focused like a blade against the door's defenses.
The door cracked open with a low groan, the ancient wood giving way under the weight of something stronger than anger, stronger than fear. The protective spells shattered like glass, fragments of magic dispersing into the air with a sound like distant wind chimes.
I stepped inside.
And froze.