Kael's POV
It had been months since I walked away from Blackwood Pack, but the sting never stopped. Some nights I jolt awake, fists clenched and claws half-formed, haunted by Aria's voice — calling for him, never for me.
I could still see it as clearly as the night it happened.
The Prophetess standing in the grove, the whole pack holding its breath.
I already knew before she spoke. My father's eyes told me everything — that he would never choose me. That I was not the son he wanted to crown.
"The Heir shall be Prince Ronan."
The words had struck like a blade. Not just the title — but everything that came with it. The right to lead, to rule, to protect the pack. And Aria.
Especially Aria.
Tradition gave the heir the right to choose his mate, and the pack would honor his choice without question.
I had grown up believing that choice would one day be mine — that I would choose her. That she would choose me.
I had grown up with her. Trained with her. Bled with her. She was mine in every way but by bond, and I thought it was only a matter of time before the Moon confirmed what we both already knew.
But when Ronan was named heir, he stood before the pack, claimed his right — and chose Aria.
And she didn't refuse.
She didn't even look at me.
She walked into that chamber and let him claim her — let him mark her while I stood outside and heard every sound.
I think that's when something in me broke for good.
My mother had run the same road years ago — vanished with a newborn in her arms rather than bow to the pack's cruelty. She chose exile to save what she loved. Watching Aria be taken felt like a mirror of that escape, only this time there was nothing left to save.
I didn't wait for the feast. Didn't stay for the blessings. I left. Not just the grove, not just the palace — I left Blackwood behind. The pack didn't need to exile me. They erased me while I stood right there among them.
And still, no matter how far I run, I carry it with me — the image of Ronan smiling, my father proud, Aria's neck glistening with his mark.
And now here I am, of all places, working for the Silverfangs — the pack we were raised to hate. Maybe it's punishment. Maybe it's rebellion. Maybe it's the only way I know to prove I can stand on my own after everything was stolen from me.
But then there was Soraya.
There was something about her that pulled at me. Something I couldn't place. Her wolf felt strangely close, almost like a whisper brushing against mine. Familiar. Connected. And yet, impossible. Even with her sharp tongue and rude temper, I couldn't bring myself to hate her. Oddly enough, that unsettled me more than anything else.
Work was beginning to grow on me. The people here were… surprisingly nice. Especially Maya. I'd learned she was Soraya's best friend, and honestly, that didn't surprise me. She was kind, maybe a little too talkative, but genuine in a way few people were anymore. For the first time in a long while, someone had made me feel welcome.
I was still gathering my things when Connor jingled the keys, ready to lock up.
"Goodnight, Kael," he said.
"Night," I replied, slinging my small bag over my shoulder.
The air outside was cooler than inside the office, carrying with it the faint smell of rain and street food from the stalls nearby. I stretched my shoulders, exhaling, ready to head home and shut out the world.
That was when I spotted her.
Maya sat at the bench near the bus stop, her figure small against the dusky evening. She wasn't scrolling on her phone, wasn't chatting with anyone. Instead, she stared into the distance, her posture tense, shoulders hunched, eyes restless.
"I thought you'd gone home," I said, walking over.
Her head lifted slowly, and the moment our gazes met, I saw the worry in her face.
"I can't," she murmured. "Not until I hear from Soraya. I've been trying to reach her, but nothing. I'm… I'm worried."
Something in her voice tugged at me, an echo of the fear I'd felt too many times before when someone I cared about went missing. Without a second thought, I sat beside her.
"Then I'll wait with you," I said simply.
Her brows drew together. "You don't have to. Really, Kael. I'll be fine."
But I shook my head. "I've got nothing to do at home. It's cool. I'll wait."
She gave a small, almost reluctant smile. "Thanks."
I leaned back on the bench, studying her in the fading light. Maya was incredible—full of life, full of energy, always talking, always moving. She carried an ease about her that people like me had long forgotten. And now, seeing her subdued like this, the worry lines etched across her forehead… it didn't suit her. She must really care about Soraya.
The least I could do was sit here with her.
"Don't worry," I said gently, keeping my tone even though unease twisted my gut. "She's fine. She's with the boss, remember?"
Maya's lips curved faintly again, but her eyes still searched the empty road as if expecting Soraya to appear.
I forced myself to smile back, though inside, unease knotted in my gut. Ethan Vander. Son of Erik Vander, Alpha of the Silverfang pack. I know them. Everyone in my pack did. The Silverfangs—ruthless, merciless, dangerous. They had been our sworn enemies for as long as I could remember.
And Soraya… was with him.
I hoped—truly hoped I was right and Soraya was fine. But deep down, I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that she wasn't safe. Not with Ethan Vander. Not with the Silverfangs.
When I first walked into that interview, part of me had only one thought: to get close enough to the enemy's son—learn his ways, maybe even use him. Maybe it was also a way to escape the weight of the betrayal I carried from my own pack. After all, who else would be reckless enough to become the personal assistant of their rival Alpha's heir, if not someone already betrayed by his own blood?
Maya hugged her arms to herself, glancing at her phone again. "I keep texting her. Nothing's going through. It's just not like her to go silent."
"She probably doesn't have service where she is," I offered, though the words felt thin, stretched too tight to be convincing.
I clenched my jaw, looking away. The streetlights flickered on one by one, their glow spilling across the pavement. People drifted past us—some laughing, some rushing, some lost in their own world—but Maya and I remained still, caught in the weight of worry.
I should've walked away. It wasn't my problem. Soraya wasn't my responsibility. And yet, every fiber of me resisted leaving.
"You care about her," I said finally, my voice low.
Maya blinked at me, then smiled faintly, her eyes softening. "Of course I do. She's like family. I can't just… sit back and do nothing."
Family. That word twisted something in me. I'd lost mine. Lost Aria. Lost everything. And maybe that was why Maya's determination cut so deep—because it reminded me of the loyalty I no longer had, the ties that had been severed.
Maya shivered from the cold outside, and without a second thought I slipped off my coat and draped it over her shoulders. She blinked, surprised, then gave me a small, tired smile.
"You didn't have to," she murmured, pulling it tighter around herself.
"I know," I replied, settling back beside her. "But you looked cold."
For a moment, the tension in her face eased, and I caught a glimpse of the brighter girl I'd seen earlier at work. She whispered a quiet "thank you," and I just nodded.
Just then, a bus hissed to a stop in front of us, doors swinging open as people hurried down the steps. Maya's eyes lingered on the road instead of the bus, her grip tightening on my coat. From her look, I wasn't sure she was even ready to go yet and I was ready to wait with her hoping Soraya would show up.