The border was forbidden.
Every child in the pack knew that before they learned how to shift. Before they learned how to run. Before they learned fear.
It was carved into our stories, whispered into our lullabies, and etched into our bones long before we ever understood what danger truly meant. Elders spoke of it in hushed tones, their voices heavy with warnings. Mothers tightened their grips on their children whenever the topic came up. Fathers grew silent, jaws clenched, eyes distant—as if remembering something they wished they could forget.
Beyond the jagged line of ancient stones and twisted ironwood trees lay lands that didn't belong to us—lands soaked in old blood, old magic, and grudges that never died. Lands where treaties had failed and promises had rotted away. No patrol crossed it unless ordered. No wolf strayed there unless they had a death wish.
Yet that was exactly where my feet carried me.
Each step felt deliberate, even though my mind screamed at me to stop. The forest grew quieter the closer I got, as if the earth itself was holding its breath. Crickets fell silent. The wind thinned to nothing. Even the leaves seemed reluctant to move.
My jaw tightened as I pushed past the final marker stone.
It was larger than the others, cracked down the middle, etched with symbols so old no one remembered their meaning anymore. I hesitated for half a heartbeat, my hand brushing its cold surface.
Then I crossed.
A sharp pain lanced through my chest the moment I stepped over the line—not physical, not something I could clutch or breathe through. It struck deeper than flesh, deeper than bone.
Something old.
Something bound.
The bond.
Kael.
It snapped tight, like a chain yanked without warning.
I gasped, stumbling forward, my hand flying to my heart as if I could tear the sensation out of me. My knees almost buckled. For a split second, his presence slammed into me—cold, commanding, furious. It was overwhelming, like being submerged in icy water without warning.
"Where are you?"
His voice roared inside my head, sharp and demanding, layered with authority that no longer comforted me.
I shut him out.
For the first time since the moon ceremony that made me Luna in name only, I shut him out completely. I forced the walls up, ignoring the backlash that rippled through my chest. The bond strained, resisted, then dulled.
I didn't want to see him or talk to him.
I wanted silence.
I wanted space.
I wanted to think—about my life, about my son, about the way Kael had looked when he made a decision about our child without even glancing in my direction. Like I was nothing. Like my voice didn't matter.
The pain eased, replaced by a hollow ache that sat heavy in my chest.
Good.
Let him feel it.
Let him feel even a fraction of what I felt.
The forest on the other side was different. Darker. Thicker. The air felt heavier in my lungs, carrying a metallic tang that made my instincts twitch. Moonlight struggled to pierce the dense canopy, breaking through only in fractured beams that barely touched the forest floor. Shadows shifted where no wind blew, stretching and shrinking like living things.
Every instinct I had screamed at me to turn back.
But another part of me—the part that was tired of bowing, tired of swallowing pain—pushed me forward.
And I listened to that part.
I would rather face monsters than look at Kael again after what he did.
A low growl echoed from somewhere to my left.
My entire body froze.
The sound vibrated through the trees, deep and warning, sending a chill down my spine. Slowly, painfully aware of every breath I took, I turned.
A wolf stepped into the clearing.
Huge. Black as midnight. Its fur absorbed what little moonlight existed, making it seem like a living shadow. Its eyes burned red—sharp and knowing, like the blood moon itself.
Not from my pack.
Not from any pack I knew.
The scars along its flank were deep and jagged, some old, some newer. They told a story of battles survived, not avoided. Of strength earned the hard way.
I shifted my stance instinctively, grounding my feet despite the tremor in my legs.
"I won't fight," I said hoarsely, my voice rough from disuse. "I'm just passing through."
The wolf studied me.
Seconds stretched into something unbearable. Its gaze wasn't feral. It wasn't hungry. It was… searching.
Then it did something unexpected.
It growled.
Not an unfriendly growl. Not a threat.
It was low, resonant—filled with something that made my chest tighten.
Longing.
And then I felt it.
A second heartbeat.
It echoed against mine, close but separate, familiar yet completely foreign. A pull tugged deep within me, curling around my soul in a way that made my breath hitch.
I had never felt anything like it before.
Mate.
The word slammed into my mind.
"What?" I whispered, spinning around wildly, my heart pounding as I searched the clearing. "Who said that?"
There was no one else.
Only the strange wolf, still staring straight into my soul.
Mate.
The voice came again, clearer this time—deep, male, filled with disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
The world tilted.
My legs gave out beneath me as the weight of it crashed down, and I fell hard to the ground, palms scraping against dirt and leaves. My breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as my mind reeled.
This wasn't possible.
It couldn't be.
The wolf whined softly and took a cautious step closer, head lowered.
"Don't come any closer!" I shouted, panic flooding my voice as I scrambled backward.
My heart hammered violently in my chest. I had to be hallucinating. Exhaustion. Stress. The bond backlash.
Anything but this.
"Look," I said quickly, forcing the words out as I pushed myself to my feet, backing away step by step. "I know I'm not supposed to be here, and I'm sorry for trespassing. But I have a mate and a son who would be worried sick about me."
The words tasted bitter.
"I really need to get back to him. Please."
The wolf stopped.
Slowly, it lowered itself to the ground, resting on its haunches, eyes never leaving mine. It didn't advance. Didn't growl.
It was like he was giving me assurance.
That he wasn't going to hurt me.
That made it worse.
Without looking back a second time, I turned and ran.
Branches tore at my skin. Roots tried to trip me. My lungs burned as I pushed myself harder, faster, desperate to put distance between us.
Between what I felt.
Between what I didn't understand.
And with every breath I took as I ran, I felt his eyes on me—steady, unwavering, imprinted into my back like a brand.
And deep down inside me, beneath fear and denial and confusion, I knew the truth.
This wouldn't be the last time I would see him.