Warmth. That was the first thing Elara felt — foreign and heavy, pressing against her skin like sunlight through fog. It wasn't the damp, cold air of the dungeon. There was no chain biting into her wrists, no drip of water echoing off stone. Only quiet.
Her lashes fluttered open. For a moment, the light burned her eyes. When her vision steadied, she saw a ceiling of dark timber beams and the faint sway of woven lanterns casting amber light. The air smelled of pine and smoke and something faintly metallic — wolf scent, but not Silvercrest.
Her heart jolted.
She pushed herself up too quickly, and the world tilted violently. Her head throbbed, her chest burned, and a raw, sour taste clung to her tongue. She gasped and fell back against the furs, her body shaking.
"Easy," a voice said quietly.
Elara froze. The tone was deep, steady — like thunder muffled by distance.
Footsteps crossed the room. She turned her head, every muscle tense, and saw him.
Kael Thorn.
The Blackridge Alpha stood near the hearth, his dark hair falling loose over his shoulders, his shirt unbuttoned at the throat. The firelight caught on the faint scars that crossed his arms and neck — reminders of the wars he'd survived. His golden eyes were fixed on her, sharp but unreadable.
Elara's throat went dry. "You—" Her voice cracked, too weak. "Where am I?"
"You're safe," Kael said. "You're in Blackridge territory."
The words barely registered before panic surged through her. She tried to sit again, ignoring the agony that lanced through her chest. "I can't— I have to—"
Kael was beside her in a heartbeat, his hand firm against her shoulder, holding her steady. "You'll tear the wound open again."
She stilled, trembling under his touch. There was strength there, but no threat. He released her once she stopped struggling.
Her eyes darted around the room. "Why… why am I here? The last thing I remember—" Her voice faltered. The dungeon. The food. The bitter taste. Then darkness.
Kael's gaze softened slightly. "You were poisoned."
Elara blinked. "What?"
"Wolfsbane," another voice answered from the doorway. Ryden stepped inside, his expression grim but respectful. "Not enough to kill, but enough to weaken your wolf — to stop her from healing."
Elara's stomach turned. She could still feel the numbness deep in her core, the part of her that connected to Lyra, her wolf spirit. It was like reaching into emptiness. "Who did it?" she whispered.
Kael didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened, and the fire behind his eyes darkened. "Someone who wanted you silenced."
Her heart pounded. "The elders."
Kael's silence was confirmation enough.
She turned away, staring at the wall. "Then you should've left me. You shouldn't have come for me."
Kael stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. "You think I could leave you there?" His voice was quiet, but something raw pulsed beneath it — grief, maybe, or something far older.
"You don't even know me," she whispered.
He laughed, low and bitter. "Elara, I've known you since before the Moon ever gave me my title."
Her eyes snapped to him. "What are you talking about?"
Ryden glanced between them, as if unsure whether to stay. Kael gave him a look — a silent command. Ryden nodded once and slipped out, leaving the two alone.
Kael turned back to her. "When I was a boy, my father forged an alliance with the Bloodbane pack. I spent a summer there. That's where I met you."
Elara's breath caught. "Bloodbane…"
"You were small then," Kael continued, his voice softening with memory. "You used to follow your mother around the training grounds. You were always trying to help the wounded pups, even when they snapped at you. I remember thinking you had more courage than most warriors I knew."
Her heart twisted painfully. "That can't be true."
Kael smiled faintly. "You wouldn't remember me. But I remember you. The night Bloodbane fell — we were too late. My pack arrived after Silvercrest had already struck. The forest was burning. Bodies everywhere." His voice roughened. "I looked for you for days."
Elara's throat closed. Images flickered behind her eyes — smoke, screaming, the stench of blood. She had flashes of that night, but never the whole picture.
"I thought you died," Kael said, his gaze meeting hers. "So I prayed to the Moon Goddess. I told her if you lived, I didn't want another mate. And I never got one."
The air between them shifted, charged with something deep and quiet.
Elara wanted to deny it — to say it was madness, that the Moon couldn't tie souls like that so young. But part of her… part of her felt it. A pull she didn't understand, thrumming faintly beneath her skin.
"Kael…" She tried to speak, but her voice failed her. "You shouldn't have come for me. Silvercrest will call it war."
"They already did," he said. "Roran's preparing to rally other packs. He'll use you as his excuse to grab power. But I won't let him touch you again."
She looked up at him then, truly seeing him — not as the ruthless Alpha she'd heard whispered about, but as a man who carried ghosts the way she did.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
Kael's expression hardened. "Whatever I must."
He turned toward the door, pausing only once before leaving. "Rest. You're safe here. For now."
When the door closed, Elara lay back against the furs, the flicker of firelight dancing across her face. Her body was weak, her wolf silent, and her heart heavier than ever.
But beneath it all, a single truth burned — she was free from Silvercrest.
And yet, somehow, she had never felt less free.