The wind howled through the treetops like a mourning spirit. Aria crouched low behind a thick fallen log, chest rising and falling rapidly, every muscle tight with fatigue and adrenaline. The dart that had nearly struck her still echoed in her ears like a warning bell she wasn't just being chased. She was being tracked.
Someone knew what ran through her veins.
She clenched her fists. The bond with Kael buzzed faintly in the back of her mind, distant but alive. He was coming. That much she could feel. But would he reach her in time?
As the forest around her fell silent once more, her thoughts drifted to memories she had long buried. Her mother's whisper in the dark: Never let them see you burn, child. They'll cage you, not save you.
Aria had always known she was different. Not just because of her silver eyes or how her wolf healed faster than others. Not even because her shifts came earlier than expected. But because her blood pulsed with ancient magic blood-moon magic wild, volatile, and feared by all.
She hadn't asked for it. She hadn't wanted the curse or the whispers.
But it had chosen her.
And now, they wanted to claim it.
Miles away, Kael tore through the trees, his body slick with sweat and blood. Each heartbeat pounded in his skull like a war drum, pushing him forward with relentless purpose.
He didn't just feel her panic anymore he sensed it. As if her very blood was calling out to him.
"She's marked," Joran's voice rang in his head from earlier. "Someone has found her bloodline. The rogues aren't acting alone."
The words echoed, sour and heavy. If what Joran feared was true, then Aria wasn't just rare. She was hunted.
And the longer she was alone, the greater the risk.
Kael vaulted over a ridge and slid to a halt, sniffing the air.
Smoke. Steel.
And her scent.
He followed it with precision, moving like a ghost across the forest floor until a splash of red caught his eye.
A drop on a rock.
Still warm.
She was close.
Aria clutched her side where a thorn had cut through her shirt and skin. It was shallow, but it bled more than it should have. Her healing was slowing. Too much running. Too much fear.
But it was the mark on her shoulder the one no one could see that throbbed with pain now.
A birthmark shaped like a crescent moon wrapped in flames. Her mother had called it a blessing. Her father had called it a curse.
"Your ancestors were the first of their kind," he once told her. "Moon-chosen. Flame-bound. The wolves who bent the elements."
She laughed then. She wasn't fired. She was furious.
But the truth burned beneath her skin even now. She was fired. And something inside her was beginning to crack open like embers catching wind after years of being buried.
A branch snapped nearby.
She froze.
Not a rogue. Not Kael.
Something else.
She rose slowly, eyes scanning the trees until she saw the figure emerge cloaked in black, face hidden by a mask.
Not a wolf.
A hunter.
And he wasn't alone.
Another stepped out behind him. Then another.
Each of them wore a silver insignia: a circle of thorns enclosing a wolf's head.
The Order of the Hollow Fang.
A human faction known only through whispers those who believed werewolves should be enslaved, dissected, or exterminated. They hunted for sport.
Or for power.
And Aria's blood was power in its purest form.
"You're a hard one to catch," the lead hunter said, voice low and rasping. "But we always find what we mark."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're trespassing on werewolf land. You won't leave alive."
"Oh, we didn't come to leave. We came to collect."
A dart gun lifted.
She growled, her eyes flaring silver. "Try it."
The first dart flew.
She dove. Rolled. Shifted in a blink and lunged at the nearest hunter, knocking him flat. Her jaws snapped down, blood coating her muzzle.
Another dart fired, this one grazed her flank.
Pain exploded. Burning. Numbing.
She staggered but kept fighting, claws slashing.
Too many.
She was fast, but they were trained. She was powerful, but they were ruthless.
A net dropped from above silver-woven.
She howled as it hit her, sapping her strength instantly. Her wolf writhed, back arching, legs kicking.
Voices blurred. Hands reached.
And then
A roar.
Not hers.
Kael.
He came like a storm, a black blur of violence and fury. The first hunter didn't even scream before Kael tore him apart. Another raised a gun, but Kael was faster, breaking his wrist and hurling him into a tree.
He reached Aria, ripping the net with a snarl and pulling her into his arms. Her skin burned from the silver, but her eyes fluttered open.
"You came," she whispered.
"Always."
They turned as the last hunter tried to run.
Kael's voice was deadly calm. "Go ahead. Tell the rest of your order what happens when you touch what's mine."
The hunter vanished into the woods.
Kael didn't chase. Not yet.
He knelt beside Aria, brushing a strand of blood-matted hair from her cheek. "They know what you are now."
Her voice trembled. "They've always known. I just didn't want to believe it."
Kael's jaw tightened. "No more running."
She looked up at him, her voice barely audible. "Then you'd better be ready for what's coming next."
Now that Aria's bloodline has been exposed and her powers are beginning to awaken, can Kael protect her from the enemies closing in or will the truth of her past ignite a war that neither of them is ready for?