That night, the forest came alive with howls.
Kael had told her to stay inside, but fear gnawed at her chest. She heard the cries of wolves and the clash of steel—hunters. Men who sought to kill wolves for their pelts and witches for their power.
Something inside her snapped. She couldn't sit and wait.
She ran into the forest, the wind tangling her hair, her bare feet pounding against the dirt. The moon hung low, full and heavy, painting the battle in silver.
Wolves lunged against armored men, snarling and tearing. And at the center of it all was Kael.
He moved like a storm given flesh, his massive frame striking down men with ease, his dreadlocks whipping as he shifted between wolf and man, claws dripping with blood. He was beautiful, terrifying, unstoppable.
But then—an arrow.
It struck him deep in the side. He staggered, a growl rumbling in his chest.
"Kael!"
Her scream echoed, and suddenly, power surged through her veins again. Fire exploded from her hands, a torrent of flame that lit the night sky. The hunters screamed as their weapons melted, as trees bent away from her wrath.
When the last man fled, silence fell. Kael collapsed, his body trembling, his blood staining the earth.
Aradia fell to her knees beside him, her hands hovering over his wound. "Please… don't die."
His green eyes flickered open, glowing faintly. "Witch," he rasped, his lips curving into a faint, pained smile. "You are mine."