The forest at the pack's border never truly slept. Even under the blanket of night, the trees whispered with restless leaves, and the wind carried scents from beyond—rogues, humans, danger. The Crescent Moon wolves patrolled in shifts, their senses sharp, their loyalty sharper.
Adanna wasn't supposed to be here. Not this close to the treeline. Not this late.
But the lodge walls pressed too tight tonight, the whispers of the day still echoing in her head. Her skin itched with restlessness. She needed air.
The moon was only half full, pale light spilling across the damp ground. She walked slowly, her boots crunching softly against fallen twigs. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
For a while, the silence calmed her. Out here, away from the pack's suspicious stares, she could breathe. She could almost pretend she was just… normal.
Almost.
"Too far from the lodge."
The voice broke the quiet, low and gravel-edged.
Adanna startled, spinning. Leander stepped out from between two trees, his pale hair catching the moonlight, his cloak hanging heavy around his shoulders. His presence filled the clearing like a storm rolling in.
Her pulse jumped. "You follow me everywhere?"
His expression didn't shift. "No. You walk where you shouldn't."
Adanna crossed her arms. "I needed space."
"This is not the place for it." His gaze swept the dark line of trees behind her. "You're wolfless. If something came out of those woods, you wouldn't hear it until it was too late."
Her teeth clenched. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then why risk it?"
Something sharp bubbled up in her chest. She hated how he made sense. Hated that his words always hit too close, as though he could see every weakness she tried to hide.
"Because inside those walls," she said, voice tight, "I feel like I can't breathe. Like every eye is waiting for me to break. Out here—it's just me. Just the trees. For once, I don't feel like a ghost."
Leander's jaw tightened. For a long moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched, thick with something unspoken.
Finally, he exhaled, slow. "Ghosts belong to the dead, Adanna. You're still here."
Her throat closed. She didn't know why the words mattered. Didn't know why they softened something raw inside her.
Before she could reply, the wind shifted. A scent slithered through the clearing—sharp, sour, wrong.
Leander froze, head snapping toward the treeline. His entire body stilled, predator-quiet.
Adanna's heart lurched. "What is it?"
He lifted a hand for silence, his eyes narrowing. His nostrils flared, pulling in the air.
Then, without a word, he moved—fast, silent, toward the trees.
"Wait—Leander!"
But he was gone, swallowed by shadow.
Adanna's pulse thundered in her ears. Logic screamed at her to turn back, to run for safety, but her feet refused. She couldn't just walk away. Not when danger pressed so close. Not when he disappeared into it.
She followed, slower, heart hammering. Branches clawed at her arms, damp leaves brushing against her legs as she pushed through.
The scent grew stronger. Acrid. Rogue.
She heard it before she saw it—low snarls, sharp breaths, the crunch of bodies clashing.
Adanna stumbled into a small clearing just in time to see Leander move like lightning. His fists struck with brutal precision, his cloak whipping as he dodged and countered. Two rogues circled him, their teeth bared, eyes gleaming mad with hunger.
He didn't flinch. Didn't hesitate. Every strike was deliberate, controlled, deadly.
Adanna's breath caught. She should've been afraid—of the rogues, of him—but instead, something else thrummed through her veins. Awe. Recognition.
He wasn't just strong. He was relentless.
One rogue lunged, and Leander caught its wrist midair, twisting until bone snapped. The creature howled, collapsing. The second tried to flank him, but Leander pivoted, slamming his elbow into its throat.
Both rogues hit the ground, writhing.
Adanna pressed a hand to her mouth, torn between horror and relief. She had never seen violence so close, never witnessed such raw, unflinching power.
Leander stood over the fallen rogues, chest heaving. His storm-grey eyes gleamed in the moonlight, his pale hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.
For a moment, he looked almost… unhuman. A predator cut from shadow and steel.
Adanna's legs shook, and a twig cracked under her boot.
Leander's head whipped toward her. His gaze locked on, sharp as blades.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was harsher than she'd ever heard it.
"I—I followed. I thought you—"
"You shouldn't be here." His chest rose and fell, voice heavy with restraint. He looked at her like she was a danger in herself, not just the rogues at his feet.
Adanna swallowed hard, forcing the tremor out of her voice. "You think I could just sit there? Pretend I didn't hear you disappear into a fight?"
His jaw worked. For a long moment, only the sound of the rogues groaning filled the clearing.
Then Leander bent, grabbed one of the rogues by the collar, and hauled it up with terrifying ease. His eyes never left hers.
"This is what waits at the borders," he said, voice low, deliberate. "Madness. Blood. Death. If you come here again, it will eat you alive."
Her breath shuddered. "And you?"
The question slipped before she could stop it.
His eyes flickered—something raw, something broken, gone as quickly as it came.
"I don't get eaten," he said flatly, dragging the rogue back toward the trees.
Adanna stood frozen, the night pressing heavy around her.
And for the first time, she wondered if Leander wasn't just protecting her from the dangers of the border.
Maybe he was protecting her from himself.
Adanna's hands trembled as the night swallowed Leander's figure. He dragged the rogue like it weighed nothing, his movements sharp, deliberate. The other wounded rogue crawled weakly toward the trees, whimpering.
Adanna flinched as it caught her scent. Its head snapped up, eyes glowing faintly gold in the moonlight, lips curling back over bloodied teeth.
Before she could react, Leander was there again—faster than thought. His boot pinned the rogue's chest to the ground, his fist slamming once, twice, until the body stilled.
The forest fell quiet.
Adanna's stomach twisted. She had seen death before—hunters back in her old pack, rogues executed in shadows—but this was different. Leander didn't just fight to kill. He fought like killing was all he knew.
He turned, and the sight of her seemed to drag him back from somewhere darker. His shoulders straightened, his fists unclenched slowly.
"You shouldn't have followed me." His voice was rough, low, but steadier than the storm she'd just witnessed.
Adanna swallowed, forcing her voice to work. "If I hadn't, you'd be lying out here alone."
His eyes narrowed. "No. I don't lose."
She took a shaky step forward, her chest burning. "That's not the point! You act like you don't care about anyone else, but what if you didn't come back? What if—"
"What if you had?" he cut in, sharp. "Do you know what those things would have done if they'd scented you first?"
The words struck like claws. Her throat closed, but she refused to look away. "I'm not weak."
Leander's jaw worked. For a long beat, his gaze held hers, grey colliding with defiance. Finally, he muttered, "No. You're not weak. Just reckless."
Adanna's lips pressed tight. "Better reckless than dead inside."
The words hung heavy between them. Leander's expression shifted—barely, but enough. Like something had cracked in his armor.
He glanced at the fallen rogues, then at her again. "You shouldn't see this."
"I already did."
His silence said more than words could.
For the first time since she'd met him, Leander looked uncertain—not about himself, but about her.
Adanna stepped closer, her pulse hammering. The air between them felt charged, dangerous.
"Why are you here, Leander?" she whispered. "Why are you always at the edges, always watching?"
His jaw clenched. "Because the edges are where I belong."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you'll get."
The rough finality of his tone should've pushed her back. Should've warned her off. Instead, it only pulled her closer.
Adanna shook her head. "You saved me. Twice now. Don't tell me it means nothing."
Leander's chest rose, fell. His hands flexed at his sides, like he was holding something back.
Finally, his voice dropped, softer but still edged. "It means more than it should."
Her breath caught. She stared at him, the truth of it vibrating through the air between them.
Before she could speak, movement stirred behind them. Another patrol wolf appeared, broad-shouldered, golden eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight.
"Leander." The man's tone carried suspicion, heavy as stone. His gaze flicked from the rogues' bodies to Adanna, then back. "What's this?"
Adanna stiffened. The way he said this made her skin prickle.
Leander straightened to his full height, his face smoothing into something cold. "Border breach. Dealt with."
The wolf's nostrils flared. His gaze lingered on Adanna, sharp and questioning. "She shouldn't be here."
Leander's voice cut like a blade. "She's under my watch."
The wolf's brow furrowed. He looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at Leander's expression kept him silent. With a grunt, he turned and stalked back toward the trees.
Adanna exhaled shakily once he was gone. "He doesn't trust you."
Leander didn't look at her. "Few do."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Then why protect me?"
At last, his storm-grey eyes swung back to her. For a moment, she thought he might say nothing. That he'd shut her out again.
Instead, his words came quiet, rough, like they'd been dragged from somewhere deep.
"Because I know what it's like to stand alone."
Adanna's chest tightened, her throat burning. She wanted to reach for him, to tell him she understood, but before she could, he turned away.
"Go back to the lodge," he said. "Don't come here again."
Her voice trembled, but she forced it steady. "And if I do?"
His gaze flicked over his shoulder, sharp, unreadable. "Then you'll find me. Every time."
Then he vanished into the fog, swallowed by shadow once more.
Adanna stood frozen, the echo of his words burning through her.
Every time.
She didn't know whether it was a warning… or a promise.