The forest was angry that night.
Branches snapped in the wind, thunder growled low in the clouds above, and the scent of rain clung thick to the air. Kael moved like a shadow through the trees, his steps silent, eyes glowing faint gold beneath his hooded gaze. He wasn't patrolling for safety. He was hunting silence—running from the ghosts that waited back at the cabin.
But instead, he found her.
She was curled beneath a fallen tree, soaked to the bone, shivering. Her clothes were torn, her cheek bruised, and her eyes… those damn eyes met his without an ounce of fear.
Kael frowned.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low, harsh like gravel. Most would cower. She didn't even flinch.
"I didn't mean to trespass," she whispered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. "I was just… running."
Running. That one word pulled something deep from his chest. Something familiar.
He should've left her there.
She wasn't pack. She was a stranger. Weak. And weakness had no place in his territory.
But something about her made him pause.
"Get up," he said after a long moment. "Before the storm gets worse."
She hesitated, then obeyed. Not because of fear—but trust.
Why?
Kael turned his back and led her through the woods. Her footsteps were light behind him, but he could feel the weight of her presence pressing into the quiet places of his thoughts. He didn't speak again—not until they reached the cabin.
Inside, the fire was still burning low from when he'd left. He tossed a towel in her direction, then turned away, trying not to notice how small and breakable she looked.
"What's your name?" he asked gruffly.
She looked up from where she knelt by the fire, drying her arms. "Lina."
He nodded once. "Kael."
The name hung in the air like a warning.
She smiled faintly anyway. "Thank you, Kael."
It hit him harder than it should have—how easily she spoke his name, like it didn't come with weight, with blood, with stories told in whispers.
He didn't respond. Instead, he crossed the room, grabbed an extra blanket, and dropped it beside her. Then, without another word, he moved to the far side of the cabin, letting the cold inside him take hold again.
But even as he sat with his back to her, he could feel her warmth like a ripple in the air between them. She was trouble. She was a risk.
And she was the first person in years to look at him like he wasn't a monster.
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