God, that wind. Man, this cold wasn't just your run-of-the-mill chill—it straight-up hated her. Like, personal vendetta kind of cold, stabbing right through her jacket and gnawing at her bones. Evangeline hung around at the edge of camp, burying her toes in the dirt, throwing daggers at the woods with her stare like she was gonna win some kind of staring contest against a bunch of trees. Spoiler: the forest just stared right back, all dark and fanged, not giving a damn. How long had she been out here anyway? Could've been an hour, could've been her whole damn life. Time didn't mean anything when your chest felt like someone scooped it hollow and forgot to fill it back up.
And of course, Kieran's voice wouldn't die. Just looping in her skull, all sharp edges and poison:
"I reject you, Evangeline Blackwood."
God, she could punch something. Or him. Or herself, honestly. He didn't just dump her—he detonated her whole world. No mate, no Luna, no fairytale. Just her and a bunch of rejects in this half-assed camp, and she didn't even know who she was supposed to be anymore.
Oh, and then her wolf decided to go full drama queen.
The shift had shown up outta nowhere—pain, panic, and then, bam, fur and claws and holy crap, her paws were red. This wasn't some weak sauce, half-baked red. Nah, this was blood—like, the kind that stains and sticks in your hands. She looked like something that made its way out of a nightmare, or maybe one of those old horror tales the elders told when the fire burned low and they thought nobody else listened. Red wolves? Man, you saw one of those and you knew—you just knew—some next-level crap was about to go down. Curse, omen, cosmic joke—pick your poison. She sure as hell didn't have answers. All she knew was, it was freaky, and just hammered in how busted she already felt.
She mumbled into the darkness, voice shot and worn out. "Why me? Why now? Seriously, what the hell?"
The wind, obviously, couldn't care less. Trees? Nope, silent as grave markers. Only thing talking was the low drone drifting from the camp behind her. And Silas? Yeah, he was back there too. That guy. The one who wouldn't drop this whole fated-mates thing. There was this weird, magnetic pull, like he'd snagged a hook in her ribs and just reeled her closer every damn time she tried to get away.
And honestly, wasn't that the real punchline?
Because part of her wanted to go to him. Not 'cause she was some damsel (blech, miss her with that), or because she was scared. It was just—gravity, man. She could lament all she wanted, she was stuck here.
And, no joke? It made her want to puke.
Kieran was supposed to be the endgame. The grand finale. The happy-ever-after, right? And here she was, catching feelings for some other guy—already? What the actual hell did that say about her, or about all that "moon-blessed mate" garbage her mom used to go on about?
She barely let it slip, voice barely more than a sigh. "I feel like a traitor."
Something snapped behind her—could've been a branch, could've been the universe screwing with her some more. She didn't even look. Silas had this way of filling up the air just by existing, didn't need to say a word to make himself known. If brooding was an Olympic sport, he'd medal.
"Knew you'd be out here," he said, keeping his distance. "You've been dodging everyone since training."
She gave a shrug that said, "So what?" "Needed some air."
His mouth quirked, a little sharp. "You needed to bolt," he shot back, waiting her out. "But you didn't."
Her hands knotted up, nails digging in. "'Cause if I started running, I don't think I'd stop. And honestly? I have no clue where I'd land."
He just stood there, basically carved out of patience. No reaching out, no fixing—just being there. Kieran, he'd always rush in, loud and blinding. Silas? He was the quiet. Still water, deep and probably hiding some real monsters down there.
"You're not locked up here, Evangeline," he finally said, voice soft enough to almost miss. "Door's open. You can go whenever."
She barked a laugh—ugly, sharp. "Go where, genius?"
And damn, that stung. Her old pack? Not a chance in hell. They saw her shift, saw the red. No way back from that, even if they begged her on their knees.
She spun on him, words biting. "What do you even want from me? You want me to fake it? Pretend I'm glad the Moon Goddess swapped out my mate like I'm some used car?"
Silas just stood there. Didn't move, didn't blink. "Nah. Just tell me what you need."
She let out a sobbing kind of laugh. "What I need? I need a freaking instruction manual, Silas. I need to know why the universe is screwing with me like this. Why my wolf waited so long. Why Kieran bailed. Why the Moon Goddess thinks it's hilarious to mess with me. If she's even up there at all."
He just watched her for a bit, eyes all shadow and storm.
Then, finally: "You want the truth?"
She nodded, throat burning. "Yeah. Please."
He just shrugged, straight up honest. "I don't know. I don't know why you got a second mate. Or why you're a red wolf. But I do know you're not abandoned. Not really."
Evangeline jerked her head away, blinking like mad. "So why's it feel like everyone's left me in the dust?"
Silas just shrugged, voice all gentle. "'Cause your heart got wrecked. 'Cause everything you thought you could count on just—poof—crumbled in one night. You're grieving, Evangeline. That's all it is."
She almost snapped back, but… nah. He was right, damn it. She was grieving. That thing she had with Kieran? Gone, like a thread yanked too hard—now all she had were these broken, bloody ends and a mess of confusion. And then, hell, there's this other thing, this new bond, tugging at her soul all quiet and persistent—nothing like the old one, no fire, just something soft, and it won't leave her alone.
"I don't even know if I can ever start afresh," she said. "I don't know what to feel again. Or if I even want to."
Silas didn't budge, didn't close the gap between them. Just dropped his voice even softer, like a secret. "Then don't. Not yet. I'm not asking you for anything big, Evangeline. I'm not asking you to fall for me or whatever. Just… breathe, okay?"
His words did something to her—untied a knot inside, maybe. She looked at him, really looked, searching for pity or some sad little expectation.
Nothing. Not a hint.
Just patience. Maybe even a little bit of understanding—who knows.
"You're not like them," she said.
He sighed. "Nope. Left that mess behind ages ago."
"Why?"
He paused, jaw tight. "They tried to kill me."
Well, that landed like a brick. Her breath hitched, but he just left it there, didn't say more, and she wasn't about to dig. Not now. Still, something shifted—like they were connected by this invisible string, tied by old wounds.
"You're not alone, Evangeline," he said, and this time there was this weight to it, like he meant every damn syllable. "You never were. Even if the world tried to convince you."
She looked away, wiping at her eyes, though honestly, the wind was doing her zero favors with her hair—a total mess. That old pain? Still hanging out, just less bite, more dull throb. She wasn't suddenly some hero out of nowhere. Like, come on, who actually gets that kind of movie moment? Maybe she'd keep her walls up forever. Maybe not. But, you know what? First time since, well, that whole mess—rejections, chaos, you name it—she actually didn't feel like she was unraveling piece by piece.
"I don't even know who I'm supposed to be now," she mumbled, barely holding it together.
Silas just kind of shrugged, shot her that lopsided grin—half encouragement, half 'yeah, life's a dumpster fire sometimes, huh.' "You don't have to figure all that out right now," he told her. "Seriously. Take a breather, alright?"
So they just hung out, not really talking, two scruffy wolves dragging more emotional carry-on than any sane person would want. Neither of them moved. They just hung in that weird, awkward middle space—stuck somewhere between all that crap that happened and, well, whatever's supposed to come next. Just… stayed.
Right now? That was good enough.