I didn't go after him.
I should have. Should've demanded answers, told him to stay away, called the sheriff—something. But instead, I stood in the middle of the clinic lobby, frozen in the wake of Kane Thorne like a deer staring down headlights it never saw coming.
"You good?" Dr. Avery called from the back, her voice casual.
I couldn't answer right away. My tongue felt like ash. I forced myself to move, to tuck the clipboard under my arm and head toward the kennels.
"I'm fine," I said, lying as smoothly as I could.
She didn't press, but I could feel her eyes on me for a beat too long. I was unraveling, and even the humans were starting to notice.
I distracted myself with Baxter, the arthritic retriever who needed his meds and a belly rub. Then Callie, the injured fox. I cleaned cages, wiped down counters, did inventory—all while my thoughts looped around one thing:
Moonveil.
That name hadn't touched my ears since I was sixteen.
Back when I had a pack.
Back when I still had a father.
The memories clawed at the inside of my chest—running through the forest barefoot, laughing with wild freedom, my father's strong voice calling me "little shadow." Then the blood. The fire. The betrayal.
I shoved it all back down where it belonged.
But Kane had cracked the seal. And now everything inside me was leaking through.
After closing hours, I took the long way home—through the rain-soaked streets of Ashridge, past shuttered diners and fog-drenched lamp posts. I needed to think. Or maybe I needed to feel something other than this burning ache under my skin.
The wolf in me paced. She had questions I didn't want to answer.
I should've gone upstairs. Locked the door. Poured another mug of tea.
Instead, I walked straight into the woods.
The wet leaves squished under my boots, and the wind teased my hair loose from its braid. I didn't shift—I couldn't. Not yet. But I could feel her rising beneath my skin, close to the surface, more present than she had been in years.
"You're the last of the Moonveil line," Kane had said.
Why now? Why come after me after all this time?
The trees opened into a small clearing where the moonlight poured down like liquid silver. I used to dream of this place. I used to run here as a girl, barefoot and wild, before the world went dark.
I knelt and pressed my palm into the earth.
It thrummed.
Alive. Ancient.
Mine.
"You came."
His voice didn't startle me this time. I think I knew he'd follow.
Kane stepped into the clearing, his dark silhouette outlined by the moon.
"I didn't call you," I said, without looking up.
"You didn't have to," he said. "Your blood did."
I stood slowly, facing him. "Don't talk to me like I'm some relic of prophecy. I'm just a woman. I run a vet clinic. I don't want this."
He studied me in the quiet for a long time. His eyes glowed faintly—wolf eyes. He didn't hide what he was.
"I didn't want it either," he said at last. "But it's already in motion."
"Then stop it," I snapped.
He took a step forward. "You can't stop a storm by denying the wind. The old bloodlines are rising. Packs are being called. The Council's waking up. And if you don't take your place, someone else will—someone who won't hesitate to use your birthright for the wrong reasons."
My breath hitched. "You're talking like this is destiny."
"It is," he said simply. "But it's also a war. And right now, Elara, you're unclaimed territory."
The words landed like ice water down my spine.
"What do you mean unclaimed?" I asked, even though I already knew.
"You carry the blood of Alpha Adrien of Moonveil. That makes you a legacy leader. A threat. And a prize."
I took a shaky breath. "I don't want to lead. I want to be left alone."
"You think I didn't want that too?" he growled. "You think I chose to become Alpha of a dying pack with blood debts and no territory? You don't get to choose what the blood demands."
The silence stretched between us like a wound.
"I'm not ready," I whispered.
Kane's expression softened—just a flicker.
"No one ever is."
We didn't speak for a while after that. He let me stand in the clearing, barefoot in the wet moss, and just exist. I was too tired to keep fighting the truth. Too raw to pretend I didn't feel it—the connection that pulsed between us like a heartbeat.
He stepped closer, his hand outstretched.
"You felt the bond," he said.
"I don't want it," I said, even as my hand trembled toward his.
He didn't flinch when our fingers brushed. My wolf surged up like fire, and his eyes flared with golden light.
"I won't force it," he said. "But I won't lie either. The bond is real. And it's awakening faster than either of us expected."
"Why me?" I whispered.
"Because you survived," he said.
Something in my chest cracked. A dam I didn't even know I was holding back began to flood.
For the first time in ten years, I let the tears fall.
And Kane—this stranger, this wolf—just stood there.
And didn't look away.