The fire had burned down to embers when Selene stirred awake. The cave smelled of smoke and damp stone, but also something warmer, something that felt like safety. For a fleeting heartbeat, she forgot her shame, her exile, her rejection. Then her fingers brushed the silver-etched runes still glowing faintly on her skin, and the memory of everything returned like a crushing wave.
She pushed herself upright slowly, ignoring the aches in her body. Across the fire, Darius sat with his back against the wall, his head tilted slightly forward as if he had dozed off. But Selene doubted he ever truly slept. Even now, his hand rested close to the dagger at his side, his body coiled like a predator ready to strike.
Her wolf stirred inside her, restless but curious. Selene's gaze lingered on him, on the jagged scar cutting across his cheek and the shadows under his eyes. He was a man marked by battles, by survival, by loss. A rogue, yes, but not aimless. There was purpose in the way he carried himself, a weight she couldn't name.
The silence pressed on her until she broke it. "You don't trust me."
His head lifted. His eyes, sharp and gray like storm clouds, locked on hers. "Should I?"
Selene swallowed. "I've done nothing to betray you."
"You've done nothing yet." His tone wasn't cruel, just blunt, as if the truth were a blade and he wielded it without hesitation.
Her chest tightened. "If you think I'm a threat, why not leave me behind? Why save me at all?"
He studied her for a long moment. Then, to her surprise, he said, "Because you remind me of someone I once knew."
Her breath caught. "Who?"
His gaze flickered away, jaw tightening. "Doesn't matter. She's gone."
Selene wanted to press, but something in his tone warned her not to. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself instead, her thoughts heavy.
After a long silence, Darius asked, "Why do you cling to them? To the pack that threw you away?"
The question pierced her. She stared into the embers, voice low. "Because it was my home. Because I believed—" She cut herself off, shame rising like bile.
"Believed what?" he pressed.
"That mates meant everything," she whispered. "That love was stronger than ambition, stronger than lies. I thought…" Her throat tightened, the words catching. "I thought if I was patient, if I was loyal, if I proved myself, I would be enough."
Darius let out a short, humorless laugh. "You'll waste your whole life waiting to be enough for people who feed on weakness."
Her wolf bristled at the insult, but Selene forced herself to stay calm. "So what? You think I should become like them? Cold? Ruthless?"
His gaze snapped back to her, hard and unflinching. "No. I think you should stop begging scraps from those who'd rather starve you. Take what's yours, or someone else will."
The words settled into her chest like seeds, dangerous but undeniable. She wanted to reject them, to cling to the girl she had been before her world shattered. But that girl was gone. Rejection had burned her away.
Selene shifted closer to the fire, her eyes on the glowing runes. "You speak as if I have power. As if I could take anything."
Darius's gaze followed the markings on her skin. "You do. You just don't understand it yet."
Her heart raced. "And you do?"
He hesitated, then nodded once. "I've seen it before. Rare, dangerous. The kind of power that makes enemies out of allies and legends out of exiles."
His words should have frightened her, but instead they sparked something—hope, maybe, or defiance.
Selene met his gaze, steady now. "Then teach me. If you know what this is, if you know how to survive it… teach me."
For the first time since she met him, Darius looked unsettled. His eyes narrowed, his jaw flexed. "You don't know what you're asking."
"Yes, I do," she said firmly. "I can't go back to who I was. I won't crawl back to them, begging for scraps. If these marks mean I was chosen for something more, then I need to learn how to wield it. And you—" She drew a shaky breath. "You're the only one who hasn't turned away from me."
The fire crackled between them. Darius's expression hardened, as though battling some internal war. Finally, he muttered, "You're reckless."
"Maybe," Selene admitted. "But I'd rather be reckless than broken."
The silence that followed was thick, weighted. Then Darius rose slowly, his tall frame casting a shadow over her. He crossed the small cave and crouched in front of her, close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the flecks of silver in his storm-gray eyes.
His presence was overwhelming, commanding without effort. Selene's pulse quickened, but she refused to shrink back.
He reached out, his roughened hand stopping just short of her arm. "These marks… they'll draw danger to you. Wolves will see you as a threat. Some will want to worship you. Others will want to kill you. If you choose this path, there is no turning back."
Her voice trembled, but her resolve held. "Then I'll walk it."
Darius's hand finally brushed her skin, his fingers grazing the glowing runes. The touch was electric, her wolf surging within her chest. Heat rushed through her veins, not just pain this time, but something fierce, alive.
For a fleeting heartbeat, she thought she saw something in his eyes—respect, maybe even admiration—before his mask returned.
"Very well," he said, voice low. "From this moment, you are no longer the daughter of Magnus Blackthorn. You are no longer the rejected mate of Lucian Hale. You are Selene. And you will decide who you become."
The words struck deep, reshaping something inside her. For the first time since her exile, she felt the faintest stirrings of strength.
She met his gaze and whispered, "Then teach me."
Darius nodded once, sharp and final. "At dawn, your training begins."
The fire crackled, the wolves howled in the distance, and in the shadows of that forbidden cave, a bond was forged—not of blood, not of fate, but of choice.
Selene didn't know if it would lead to salvation or ruin, but for the first time in weeks, she didn't feel alone.