LAYLA'S POV
The castle walls were suffocating me. Everywhere I went, whispers followed—eyes burning into my back, mouths muttering about me and Lucian. My skin prickled as if every stone in the palace carried their judgment.
So I slipped out.
The forest was the only place where I could breathe. The air was cool, damp with the scent of pine and earth. My wolf stretched inside me, calmer here beneath the canopy where moonlight broke through in pale ribbons. I wrapped my arms around myself and walked deeper until the noises of the castle faded.
Then I heard it.
The steady, rhythmic scrape of blade against wood. My body froze, every instinct alert. Slowly, I peeked around a tree.
Kieran.
He was sitting on a fallen log, knife in hand, a block of wood in the other. His arms moved with sharp precision, the muscles in his forearms flexing as the shape began to emerge. Even in something as simple as carving, he carried an aura of command, as though every cut answered to him.
I pressed myself back against the bark, thinking I could just stay hidden, just watch him. My heart thudded against my ribs, betraying me.
Without looking up, his voice rang out, deep and firm:
"I know you're there, Layla."
I jumped, heat rushing to my cheeks. Of course he knew. He always seemed to know. My hiding spot felt ridiculous now. With a sheepish smile, I stepped out from behind the tree.
"Hi," I said softly.
Kieran finally looked up, his storm-grey eyes locking on me. He didn't smile. He studied me in that way he always did—like he was reading every thought in my head, stripping me bare with a single glance.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people with knives," I joked weakly, trying to break the heaviness of his stare.
He didn't laugh. His jaw tightened instead. "I have something to tell you."
My stomach dropped. His tone was too serious. I shifted nervously. "What is it?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Don't trust Lucian."
The words hit me like cold water. My brows knit together. "What? Why?"
Something flickered in his eyes, sharp and unsettled. "Something about him isn't right."
I let out a small, humorless laugh. "Not right? Or are you just jealous because he's giving me attention?"
That did it. His expression darkened instantly, eyes flashing like a storm.
"Jealous?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You think I'm jealous of him?"
I folded my arms over my chest, anger rising to meet his. "Well, what else am I supposed to think? You never wanted me before. You made it clear what I am to you. And now, suddenly, because Lucian looks at me, you care?"
Kieran's knife dropped into the dirt. He rose to his full height, towering over me, tension radiating from his body. "Don't twist this, Layla. I don't need to be jealous to see when someone's a threat."
"Then explain!" I snapped, stepping closer without realizing. "Because all I hear are accusations without reasons."
He growled low in his throat, his wolf brushing against mine, thick and electric. "You don't understand. It's not about me wanting you or not. It's about keeping you safe."
"Safe?" I scoffed, heat flooding my cheeks. "From what? From being noticed? From being treated like I'm more than dirt under your boots?"
His eyes flared. "Don't say that."
"Why not?" I shot back, chest rising and falling quickly. "It's true."
We were so close now that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face, could see the tension carved into his jaw. My own breathing came shallow, ragged. The mate bond pulsed between us like a drumbeat, pulling, demanding. My wolf clawed at me, aching to close the space, aching for him.
His hand twitched like he wanted to touch me but stopped himself.
"Layla…" His voice broke slightly, rough and raw. "I saw something. Something you need to know."
My anger faltered, replaced by unease. "What did you see?"
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before pinning me with his gaze again. "Ronan. I saw him in the courtyard two nights ago, speaking to someone cloaked. A hooded figure. I couldn't see their face, but I heard them. They were talking about you."
My stomach plummeted. "M-me?"
His jaw clenched. "Yes. And then… they vanished. Into thin air. Magic."
The word alone made my blood run cold. Wolves didn't use magic. Wolves feared it.
"Magic?" My voice was barely a whisper.
Kieran stepped closer again, urgency in his tone. "I don't know what Lucian wants with you, Layla. But it isn't good. Trust me on this."
His eyes bore into mine, stormy and sincere. I searched them, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. I saw no mockery there, no disdain. Only raw honesty. And something else, something fierce and protective that I'd never seen from him before.
I swallowed, my voice trembling. "I… I trust you."
The bond between us thrummed painfully, almost alive. His chest rose and fell, his fists tight at his sides like he was restraining himself.
I nodded faintly, though confusion still clawed inside me. Lucian's words, Kieran's warning, the whispers of magic—it all tangled in my chest until I could hardly breathe.
But one truth stood out, clear as the look in Kieran's eyes.
For the first time, I believed him.