The fire had burned low by the time I realized I hadn't slept at all.
I lay on my side, wrapped in Fenris's spare cloak, staring at the cave ceiling where shadows twisted like living things.
Every crack in the stone looked like a mouth waiting to speak.
Every sound—leaves shifting, something skittering in the underbrush—felt too loud in the silence.
My body was exhausted.
My mind refused to shut up.
Across the fire, Fenris sat with his back against the stone wall, one knee bent, forearm resting loosely on it.
He hadn't slept either.
I knew because every time I shifted, every time my breathing changed, his gaze flicked to me without fail.
Like he was guarding something valuable.
"You always watch your prisoners this closely?" I asked finally, my voice rough.
His mouth curved faintly. "You're not a prisoner."
"Debatable."
"If you were," he said calmly, "you wouldn't still have your shoes. Or your sarcasm."
I snorted and pushed myself upright, the movement tugging at my bandaged heel.
It throbbed but didn't bleed.
Annoyingly efficient work.
"Then what am I?" I asked.
Fenris's eyes lingered on my face longer than necessary, yet he didn't say a word.
That silence unsettled me more than any answer could have.
I stood and walked toward the cave entrance, ignoring the way his attention sharpened instantly.
The forest outside was pale silver under the dying moon, mist curling low to the ground like it had secrets to keep.
I breathed it in.
Freedom tasted like damp earth and pine.
And fear.
"I can leave," I said quietly, not turning around.
"Yes," Fenris agreed.
I waited.
He didn't add anything.
The lack of resistance unnerved me more than force would have.
"You're not going to stop me?" I asked, finally facing him.
"No."
I narrowed my eyes. "Why not?"
"Because if I have to force you," he said evenly, "I've already lost."
Lost what?
The question sat heavy between us.
I crossed my arms, defensive. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough," he replied.
"That I'm wolfless?" I snapped. "That I was unwanted? That I mouthed off to an Alpha?"
"I know you weren't afraid," he said.
I faltered.
"That when they dismissed you," he continued, voice low, "you didn't fold. You didn't plead. You didn't try to make yourself smaller."
His gaze pinned me. "Most wolves would've."
"Most wolves were raised to obey," I shot back.
"I wasn't."
That was a lie.
I had been.
I just stopped.
Something unreadable flickered across his face.
"Sit," he said suddenly.
"I'm fine—"
"Lyra."
The way he said my name sent a strange heat down my spine.
I sat.
He moved closer—not invading my space, but enough that his presence pressed against my senses.
Heat, smoke and wild.
"You don't trust me," he said.
"Obviously."
"Good," he replied. "Neither should you."
I blinked. "That's… not reassuring."
"Trust gets people killed," Fenris said.
"Instinct keeps them alive."
"Is that why you're here?" I asked.
"Instinct?"
"Yes."
"And what is it telling you now?"
His eyes darkened. "That if I let you walk back to that pack, you won't survive the winter."
Anger flared hot and fast. "You don't know that."
"I know Alphas like Rowan," he said flatly.
"They don't tolerate what they don't have use of."
"So you saved me out of the goodness of your heart?" I scoffed.
"No."
"Then why?"
A pause.
"Because I wanted to," Fenris said.
That answer scared me more than any other.
Because wanting was reckless.
Wanting meant choice.
And choice meant he could change his mind.
Silence stretched between us, thick and dangerous.
The fire popped softly, a spark rising and dying in the dark.
"You don't even know me," I said quietly.
Fenris held my gaze. "I know enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
I huffed and looked away first.
I hated that I did.
Hated that he made everything feel like a battle I hadn't agreed to fight.
Outside, the wind shifted.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
But every instinct in my body tightened.
Fenris felt it too.
His posture changed—not obviously, not in a way anyone untrained would catch—but I saw it.
His shoulders squared.
His head tilted slightly, listening past the normal sounds of the forest.
"What?" I asked.
"We're not alone."
Not anymore.
My pulse kicked hard against my ribs.
"You said this place was beyond council reach."
"It is."
"That doesn't sound reassuring."
He stood slowly, every movement controlled.
"It's not the council."
A branch snapped in the distance.
Too deliberate to be an animal.
Too heavy to be prey.
I pushed to my feet, ignoring the pull in my heel. "Rowan?"
Fenris didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The scent hit seconds later.
Moonstone.
Iron.
My pack.
No, my ex-pack.
They'd tracked me.
Or more accurately tracked him.
Of course they had.
Fenris was a rogue Alpha with a reputation for crossing borders and surviving the consequences.
Rowan had been looking for a reason to strike for years.
And I'd just handed him one wrapped in justification.
Figures moved between the trees, silent and disciplined like a war formation.
My throat went dry.
"You said I could leave," I muttered.
"You still can," Fenris replied calmly.
I stared at him. "You're joking."
"If you walk toward them now, they'll take you back."
"And you?"
"They won't stop at you."
Something hot twisted in my chest.
"Why aren't you panicking?" I demanded.
Fenris glanced at me, and for a split second something fierce and almost pleased flashed in his eyes.
"Because I've been waiting for him to try."
The trees parted.
Alpha Rowan stepped into the clearing like he owned it.
Tall. Immaculate. Silver-gray eyes sharp with calculation.
He wore authority like a second skin.
Behind him stood a dozen warriors.
Not the weakest.
Not expendable.
His best.
"Lyra," Rowan said smoothly, as if we were meeting at a festival instead of a battlefield.
"You've caused quite a disturbance."
I lifted my chin. "You exiled me."
"I released you," he corrected. "There's a difference."
Fenris moved to stand beside me—not in front, not shielding. Beside.
Rowan's gaze shifted to him.
"And you," Rowan continued, voice losing its civility. "Rogue."
Fenris smiled faintly. "Alpha."
"You trespassed on my territory."
Fenris shrugged. "Territory is a matter of perspective."
"You abducted a pack member."
"I offered her a choice."
Rowan's eyes flicked to me. "Did he?"
"Yes," I said before I could stop myself.
The silence that followed was colder than the night air.
Rowan studied me carefully, calculating.
"I see," he murmured.
Then his attention returned to Fenris, and the mask dropped.
"You've been circling my borders for months," Rowan said.
"Provoking smaller packs. Testing alliances."
Fenris didn't deny it.
"You've wanted a confrontation," Rowan continued. "Now you have one."
Ah.
There it was.
This wasn't about me.
I was just a pawn.
Rowan needed a justification to attack a rogue Alpha without appearing threatened.
A 'stolen' pack member made the perfect excuse.
"You're using me," I said flatly.
Rowan's expression didn't change. "You chose to follow him."
"I wasn't following."
Fenris's voice was quiet but edged with steel. "Careful."
Rowan ignored him. "You belong to Silverhide."
"I belonged," I corrected.
A muscle ticked in Rowan's jaw.
"You think he'll protect you?" Rowan asked softly. "He can't even protect his own territory."
Fenris's wolf pressed against the surface of his skin—I could feel it, coiled and ready.
"You mistake me," Fenris said evenly. "I'm not protecting her because I have to."
Rowan arched a brow. "No?"
"I'm protecting her," Fenris continued, "because I want to."
The words hit harder this time.
Rowan's gaze sharpened.
"That," he said quietly, "is a weakness."
"No," Fenris replied. "That's a choice."
The warriors behind Rowan shifted, tension rippling through them.
Rowan lifted a hand slightly in warning.
"You've been a problem for too long," Rowan said.
Something dangerous flashed between them—history I wasn't privy to.
This wasn't their first clash.
"You should have stayed away from my lands," Rowan said.
Fenris's lips curved faintly. "You should have treated your wolves better."
The insult landed.
Rowan dropped his hand.
The attack came fast.
Arrows sliced through the air.
Fenris grabbed me and pulled me down just as one whistled past where my head had been.
The clearing exploded into chaos.
Warriors rushed forward in synchronized formation.
Fenris shifted mid-stride, bones snapping, fur tearing through skin.
His black wolf burst forward, massive and terrifying.
He met Rowan head-on.
The impact shook the ground.
I scrambled behind a fallen log, heart pounding as claws clashed and snarls ripped through the night.
Rowan shifted too—sleek silver, controlled and brutal.
They circled, lunged and collided.
A warrior broke from formation and charged toward me.
I grabbed a fallen dagger, breath sharp.
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
His eyes flicked to mine—and he couldn't do it.