Chapter 14 Chapter 14

Chapter 14 Chapter 14
Lyra
The first warning is the silence.
The jungle should be alive, crickets screaming, leaves whispering, nocturnal creatures moving through the undergrowth. Instead, it goes unnaturally still, as if the earth itself is holding its breath.
My wolf stirs.
No—she jerks awake.
Danger.
I slow my steps, heart thudding hard against my ribs, every sense sharpening until the world feels too loud, too sharp. Sweat clings to my skin. The air is thick, heavy with damp earth and moss… and something else.
Wolves.
Not mine.
Not Kael’s.
My breath stutters as the scent hits me fully—foreign, aggressive, male. A rival pack. Close. Too close.
Kael is away. Halfway across the continent, locked in a business meeting he couldn’t cancel, one that ties alliances and blood debts together. I told him I’d be fine. I believed it.
I shouldn’t have.
A twig snaps behind me.
I run.
The jungle tears at me as I sprint, branches clawing at my arms, thorns biting into my skin. My lungs burn, each breath sharp and painful, but fear drives me harder than instinct ever could. My wolf wants to shift, to fight—but I can’t. Not here. Not yet.
A howl splits the night.
Then another.
They’re hunting me.
Tears blur my vision as I push forward, feet slipping in the mud, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter my ribs. I taste blood—bitten lip, maybe—but I don’t slow.
I can’t.
Pain blooms suddenly along my arm as something rakes across my skin. I cry out, stumbling, barely catching myself before I fall. Warm blood trickles down my wrist, slick and terrifying.
“Run,” my wolf snarls inside me. Run or die.
I burst through the treeline and nearly sob in relief when the jungle thins into rocky terrain. The mountain looms ahead—steep, brutal, unforgiving.
I climb.
Hands scraping against stone, knees bruising, muscles screaming as I haul myself upward. My breaths come out in broken sobs now, tears streaming freely as fear and exhaustion crash over me in waves.
Another howl—closer.
I slip, cry out, pain exploding through my side as I slam into the rock. For a moment, I lie there, gasping, trembling, convinced this is it. That this mountain will be my grave.
Then I see it.
Lights.
Warm, golden lights cutting through the darkness.
A villa.
Luxury carved into stone high above the world, hidden like a secret among the cliffs.
Hope hurts almost as much as fear.
I force myself up, legs shaking violently as I stagger toward it. Every step is agony. My body feels heavy, wrong, weak. Blood stains my clothes. I can barely feel my fingers.
By the time I reach the gates, I’m crying openly.
“Please,” I whisper to no one. “Please…”
And then—
Scent.
My breath catches so hard it feels like my lungs seize.
Smoke and pine. Leather and night air. Something dark and familiar, something that sinks straight into my bones.
Riven Blackmoor.
My knees buckle.
Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground.
“Lyra,” he breathes, voice low, shocked, and then—tight. “Fuck.”
He pulls me against his chest, crushing me into him, and the moment I feel his heartbeat beneath my cheek, something inside me breaks completely.
I don’t speak.
I can’t.
I just cling to him, fingers fisting in his jacket, sobbing silently as his scent wraps around me like a memory I never fully let go of.
Home.
That’s the terrifying part.
“Easy,” he murmurs, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other wrapped firmly around my waist. “I’ve got you.”
I feel him tense.
His head lifts slowly, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. The warmth around me shifts instantly—hardens.
Predator.
“Sit,” he orders softly, guiding me down onto a stone bench near the entrance. His hand lingers for half a second longer than necessary, grounding me.
Then he turns.
The night erupts.
Wolves burst from the trees three, four, maybe more snarling, eyes glowing, teeth bared.
Riven doesn’t shift.
He smiles.
It’s cold. Lethal. Beautiful in the most horrifying way.
The fight is brutal and fast.
I watch through blurred vision as he moves like a shadow given flesh—snapping bones, tearing throats, ending lives with terrifying efficiency. Blood darkens the stone. Growls echo off the mountain walls, cut short one by one.
When it’s over, the silence returns.
Riven stands among bodies, chest heaving slightly, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. He looks untouched.
Unbothered.
He turns back to me immediately.
“You’re bleeding,” he says sharply, crouching in front of me. His gaze flicks over every bruise, every tear in my clothes. His jaw tightens. “Fuck. You’re bleeding.”
“I…” My voice comes out thin. Weak. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You came to the right place,” he says, and there’s no hesitation in it.
He lifts me without effort, carrying me inside the villa. The interior is warm, opulent, glowing with low lights and dark wood. It feels unreal after the nightmare outside.
I’m shaking. Panting. My body hasn’t caught up with what just happened.
Riven sets me gently on a couch and disappears for a moment. I hear water running. Drawers opening.
He comes back with a warm, wet towel.
“Stay still,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of me.
His touch is careful—almost reverent—as he cleans the blood from my arm. I hiss softly when the towel brushes a deeper cut.
“Sorry,” he mutters, though his hands remain steady. He wraps a bandage around my arm, fingers brushing my skin, sending unwanted sparks up my spine.
I feel… pulled toward him.
Like gravity.
“Thank you,” I whisper, voice breaking. “For saving my life.”
His eyes lift to mine.
Something dark flickers there. Something hungry. Something restrained.
“You shouldn’t have been alone,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t plan to be,” I reply, tears slipping down my cheeks again. “Kael is away.”
At his name, Riven’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing.
Instead, he leans closer.
Too close.
I can feel his breath on my lips, smell him fully now, feel the weight of everything unspoken between us pressing in.
My heart races.
My wolf stirs—confused, aching, drawn.
Riven’s thumb brushes under my chin, tilting my face up gently.
“Lyra…” he murmurs.
And then he leans in.