Chapter 8 Blood and Shadows
The next night, the air was sharp with the promise of trouble. Patrol duty was routine, but every wolf could feel it—the way the forest carried a different silence, the way the scents lingered too long in the air.
Kier and I were paired together, which wasn’t unusual. The Alpha-in-training and the Beta’s daughter. The packs couple in waiting —of course we would be. Jaxon had teased me mercilessly when the assignments were posted, and Liora had raised her brows but said nothing.
We moved quietly through the trees, eyes sharp, ears tuned. The moon was a thin curve overhead, casting silver slashes across the undergrowth.
Kier walked with the kind of steady confidence that reminded me why the pack trusted him. His shoulders squared against the night, his stride sure but not careless. He didn’t look back at me, but I never doubted he knew where I was, each step in sync with his.
I admired him more than I wanted to admit. He would make a great Alpha one day—unyielding but fair, strong but not reckless. The pack needed that balance. And yet, every time his arm brushed mine, every time his gaze lingered just a heartbeat too long, the thought of us sparked like fire in my chest.
If I gave in to it, if I let that invisible thread between us pull tight, where would I be? Bound. Claimed. No longer Sable, the girl who carved her own path, but Sable, Kier’s mate. Part of me ached for it; the other part clawed at the walls inside me, desperate to stay free.
A snap echoed in the trees, sharp and deliberate. Both of us froze, ears flicking forward.
Kier lifted his chin, nostrils flaring. “Do you smell that?” he whispered.
I did. The air was heavy with musk and copper, the kind of scent that didn’t belong. Not pack. Not prey. Something… other.
My wolf stirred, claws pressing against the edges of my skin. “Rogue,” I breathed.
Kier’s hand brushed mine, a fleeting touch meant to steady. “Stay close.”
The words ignited my chest in equal parts heat and fury. I didn’t need him to protect me. I wasn’t fragile. And yet, as the silence deepened and the shadows seemed to move, I found myself instinctively shifting a half step closer, my senses sharpened by the thrill of danger.
The forest held its breath. And then, in the distance, a howl split the night—raw, guttural, and wrong.
Kier’s jaw tightened. “They’re here.”
Rogues burst from the dark, eyes wild, teeth bared. Three, no—four of them, snarling, foam flecking their muzzles. Their movements were feral, untrained, but brutal all the same.
“Left!” Kier barked, already shifting, his wolf form exploding into motion.
I drew my blade and met the first rogue head-on, steel singing as it cut through the night. My body remembered every drill, every bruise, every lesson. Block, strike, pivot. A wolf lunged, claws raking across my arm. I hissed, spun, and drove my blade deep into its side.
But there were too many. They pressed harder, driving us back toward the ridge. Kier’s wolf slammed one into the dirt, teeth snapping at its throat, but another came from the side, throwing its weight against me. I stumbled, footing lost, and suddenly the ground vanished beneath me.
The fall wasn’t long, but it knocked the air from my lungs. Rocks tore at my skin as I tumbled into darkness.
“Sable!” Kier’s roar split the night.
A heartbeat later, his massive wolf form crashed down beside me. Dust and gravel rained around us as the ridge collapsed, sealing the mouth of the cave we’d fallen into. The world above went silent.
My chest heaved as I pushed up, heart hammering. The only light was the faint glow of moonlight seeping through cracks in the rock. The air was damp, thick with moss and earth.
Kier shifted back to human form, breath ragged, dirt smeared across his face. His arm bled from a deep gash, but his eyes were fixed on me.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though my scraped palms burned. “You?”
“I’ve had worse.” He glanced at the blocked entrance, jaw tight. “We’re trapped.”
I swallowed hard. “The others—?”
“They’ll hold the rogues. And they’ll come looking for us.” He sank against the wall, exhaling slowly. “But it might take time.”
The cave pressed close around us, shadows thick, silence heavy except for the sound of our breathing. My pulse hadn’t slowed. Not from the fight, not from the fall. From him.
“You shouldn’t have jumped,” I whispered.
His eyes found mine, steady, unyielding. “Of course I should have. I wasn’t letting you face that alone.”
The words hit something deep inside me, something I’d been trying to ignore. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to build walls the way I always did. But in the dark, with his warmth so close, the walls felt thin.
“You can’t protect me from everything, Kier,” I said, voice rough.
“I don’t want to protect you from everything.” His gaze softened, but his voice stayed firm. “I just want to protect you from losing yourself. From being forced into something you don’t want. From anything that takes away who you are.”
My throat tightened. “You make it sound easy.”
“Because with you, it is.”
The cave fell silent again, but it was a different silence now. Not empty. Charged.
I wanted to tell him to stop. That this closeness was dangerous, that it only made the thought of running harder. But when his hand brushed mine in the dark, I didn’t pull away.
Not this time.