Three days passed.
Three days of kitchen work. Three days of avoiding Kael's gaze. Three days of waking with silver marks that spread further each morning, curling now past her wrists toward her palms, delicate as fern fronds and twice as persistent.
Three days of pretending she hadn't learned she was royalty.
Elara scrubbed pots. Elara peeled vegetables. Elara kept her head down and her mouth shut and her sleeves pulled low despite the heat of the kitchen fires. She became exactly what the pack expected—a quiet, useful, invisible human omega.
But at night, she dreamed.
The silver wolf in chains. The chanting figures. The eyes—Kael's eyes—watching her from the darkness with something that looked like desperate hope.
Wake up, the wolf whispered each night. Wake up before they find you.
Who? she always asked.
But the dream never answered.
---
On the fourth morning, everything changed.
Elara was carrying a bucket of kitchen waste to the disposal pit at the edge of the compound. It was early—dawn barely breaking over the mountains, most of the pack still asleep—and she'd volunteered for the task specifically because it meant solitude.
The marks on her arms itched. They'd reached her palms now, delicate silver lines that looked like the veins of a leaf. She'd taken to keeping her hands in fists, hiding the evidence.
The disposal pit was a foul-smelling hole behind the kitchens, ringed by snow and frequented by scavenger birds. Elara dumped the bucket, turned to leave—
And froze.
A man stood at the tree line.
Not pack. She knew that immediately. Pack moved with confidence, with ownership, with the easy grace of predators at the top of the food chain. This man moved like a hunter—careful, watchful, hungry.
His eyes met hers.
Yellow.
Rogue.
Elara's heart slammed against her ribs. The bucket slipped from her fingers, clattering against frozen ground. She opened her mouth to scream—
The man was gone.
Just... gone. Like he'd never existed.
Elara spun in a circle, scanning the trees, the shadows, every possible hiding place. Nothing. No movement. No sound except her own ragged breathing.
Did I imagine it?
But she hadn't. She knew she hadn't. Those yellow eyes had looked at her with recognition. With intent.
They'd found her.
The hunters had found her.
---
Elara ran.
Not to the omega quarters—too far, too exposed. Not to the kitchens—full of wolves who wouldn't believe her, wouldn't care. She ran to the only place that felt even slightly safe.
The healing hut.
She burst through the door without knocking, gasping for air, her chest burning with more than just the sprint.
Thorne looked up from his worktable, took one look at her face, and went still. "What happened?"
"Rogue." The word came out strangled. "At the tree line. By the disposal pit. He was watching me. He—" She grabbed Thorne's arm. "He knew me. His eyes—he looked at me like he knew me."
Thorne's weathered face paled. "Did anyone else see?"
"No. It was dawn. Everyone was asleep."
"Good. That's..." He gripped her shoulders, steered her to a chair. "Sit. Breathe. Tell me everything."
Elara told him. The yellow eyes. The way he'd vanished. The certainty that settled in her bones like frost.
When she finished, Thorne was silent for a long moment.
"They're getting closer," he said finally. "The rogues who attacked you—that wasn't random. That was a hunting party. And hunters who lose prey don't give up. They track. They watch. They wait for another opportunity."
"The pack won't protect me. You know that."
"No. They won't." Thorne's jaw tightened. "Which means you need to protect yourself."
"How? I'm human. I'm nothing. I can't—"
"You're not nothing." His voice sharpened. "You're the last heir to the Silver Crown. And whether you believe it yet or not, that means something. That means power. Dormant, yes. Hidden, yes. But real."
Elara looked at her hands. At the silver marks curling across her palms. "I don't know how to access it."
"Then we need to find someone who does."
"Who?"
Thorne's eyes met hers. "There's someone. An elder. She lives in the ruins of the Silver Palace—what's left of it, anyway. She served the royal family before the rebellion. If anyone knows how to break your seal safely, it's her."
"The Silver Palace?" Elara's voice cracked. "That's—that's days away. Through rogue territory. I can't—"
"You can't stay here either." Thorne knelt before her, his ancient face fierce. "Listen to me, child. The rogues who attacked you aren't working alone. Someone is directing them. Someone who knows about the royal bloodline. Someone who wants you found before your seal breaks—because once it breaks, you become infinitely harder to capture."
The master, Vance had said in her dream. The master knows.
"The Blood Moon," Elara whispered. "It's in three weeks. Thorne said it could break the seal."
"It could. It will, if you're near enough to power. But if the rogues take you before then—" He stopped. Swallowed. "There are things worse than death, child. Things that can be done with royal blood. Rituals that can steal your power, your wolf, your very soul. You cannot let them capture you."
Elara's marks burned.
For the first time, they didn't just pulse with warmth—they flared, bright enough to see through her skin, bright enough to illuminate the fear on Thorne's face.
"What—" she gasped.
"The seal is responding to your fear. To the threat." Thorne grabbed her hands, held them tight. "Fight it. Calm your heart. If the seal breaks now, without protection, without guidance—"
"Without Kael," she finished bitterly.
"Without anyone strong enough to guard you through the transition." His grip tightened. "The breaking kills some, child. The power surge. The wolf emerging without a anchor. You need your mate. You need the bond fully activated. Or you might not survive."
My mate.
The man who'd rejected her. Who looked through her like glass. Who'd said they should have let her die.
"Then I'll die," Elara said quietly.
"You won't." Thorne's voice held steel. "Because I won't let you. And neither will that stubborn Alpha, whether he knows it or not."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he came to the healing hut last night. Asked about you."
Elara's heart stuttered. "What?"
"Couldn't explain why. Said he'd been having strange dreams. Said he felt... restless. Agitated. Wanted to know if I'd given you anything that could affect pack members." Thorne's lips twitched. "I told him no. Told him you were just a human omega who'd be gone soon. He didn't look relieved. He looked—"
"What?"
"Lost." Thorne met her eyes. "He looked like a man who'd misplaced something vital and couldn't remember what it was."
---
Elara left the healing hut with her mind churning.
Kael had dreams. Kael felt restless. Kael had asked about her.
The bond, she thought. It's stirring in him too. He just doesn't understand what he's feeling.
Part of her—the stupid, hopeful part—wanted to find him. To tell him everything. To beg him to try, to push past whatever block prevented him from sensing her.
But Marta's words echoed in her memory.
The wolves don't care about us. They never have.
Kael had rejected her publicly. Had wished her dead. Had looked at her like she was nothing for days on end.
She couldn't trust him. Couldn't rely on him. Couldn't hope in him.
She could only survive.
---
That afternoon, a new wolf appeared in the kitchen.
Male. Young—maybe twenty-two. Broad-shouldered and handsome in the sharp way of predators, with copper-brown hair and hazel eyes that held a glint of mischief. He lounged against the doorframe, watching the kitchen work with obvious amusement.
The kitchen she-wolf—Greta, Elara had learned—bristled. "Dace. What do you want?"
"Mother sent me for supplies." His voice was warm, teasing. "Apparently feeding growing wolves requires actual food. Who knew?"
"Then take what you need and go."
Dace pushed off the doorframe. Wandered further into the kitchen. His eyes swept over the workers—and stopped on Elara.
"Well, well." He approached, ignoring Greta's warning growl. "The human. I've heard about you."
Elara kept scrubbing. "I'm sure you have."
"Dace." Greta's voice sharpened. "Leave her alone."
"I'm just being friendly." He leaned against the counter beside Elara, close enough that she could smell him—forest and leather and something spicier. "Is it true the Alpha rejected you at the Moon Ceremony? Publicly?"
Elara's jaw tightened. "Is there a point to this?"
"Just curious." His eyes roamed her face. "You don't look like much. But then, humans never do."
Keep your head down. Don't react. Survive.
She'd heard worse. Much worse.
Elara kept scrubbing.
Dace watched her for another long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned closer. "You smell strange, human."
Her heart stopped.
"Can't place it. Like..." He inhaled deeply. "Like nothing I've ever scented before. Interesting."
He straightened, grinned at Greta's furious expression, and sauntered out with his supplies.
Elara's hands shook.
He smelled something.
For the first time since she'd arrived, a wolf had actually smelled something on her.
Which meant—
Which meant the seal was weakening.
Which meant she was running out of time.
---
That night, Elara didn't sleep.
She sat in her corner cot, wrapped in her thin blanket, watching the marks on her arms pulse with faint silver light. They'd reached her fingers now—delicate patterns that looked almost like claws, like she was becoming something other than human.
I'm not human. I never was.
The thought didn't bring comfort. It brought terror.
Because if the seal was weakening, the rogues could track her. If the seal was weakening, the pack might notice. If the seal was weakening—
"Elara."
She jerked.
Marta stood at her curtain, face pale in the candlelight. "There's someone here to see you."
"At this hour? Who—"
But Marta had already stepped aside.
And Kael Draven ducked through the curtain into her tiny space.
---
He looked terrible.
That was Elara's first thought. Terrible in a way that had nothing to do with his physical appearance—he was still devastatingly handsome, still radiating power, still every inch the feared Alpha. But his eyes...
His eyes were haunted.
Dark circles bruised the skin beneath them. His jaw was tight with tension he couldn't hide. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days, who'd been fighting something invisible and losing.
"What do you want?" Elara's voice came out sharper than intended. Fear, she told herself. Only fear.
Kael's gaze swept over her tiny corner. The thin cot. The single blanket. The absence of any personal items, any comfort, any sign that she existed as more than a shadow.
"This is where they put you?"
"The omega quarters. Yes."
His jaw tightened further. "It's not fit for—" He stopped. Swallowed. "Never mind."
"Why are you here, Alpha?"
The title was deliberate. A reminder of the distance between them. A wall.
Kael's silver eyes met hers. And for the first time, she saw something in them besides cold indifference.
Confusion. Frustration. And beneath that, something that looked almost like...
Pain.
"I can't stop thinking about you."
The words fell between them like stones into still water.
Elara stared at him.
Kael looked as shocked by the admission as she felt. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of pure agitation. "I don't know why. I don't understand it. You're human. You're nothing to me. You should be nothing to me. But I—" He stopped. Struggled. "I dream about you."
I dream about you too, she thought. About a silver wolf in chains. About your eyes watching me from the darkness.
"I don't know what you've done," Kael continued, his voice rougher now. "If it's some human trick, some magic, some—"
"There's no trick." Elara's voice was quiet. Steady. "I'm not doing anything to you."
"Then why can't I stop thinking about you?" The question burst out of him, raw and frustrated and more honest than anything he'd said since she arrived. "Why do I feel like I'm missing something every moment you're not near me? Why do I—" He broke off. Turned away. "Forget it. I shouldn't have come."
He moved toward the curtain.
"Kael."
His name stopped him. Not Alpha. Kael.
He turned back.
Elara stood. Approached him slowly, carefully, the way she'd approach a wounded animal. Stopped when she was close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, to smell the winter pine and smoke that clung to him, to see the conflict raging in his silver eyes.
"What do you dream about?" she asked softly.
He stared at her for a long moment.
"You," he finally said. "In a cave. Chained. Silver light pouring off you like water. And I can't reach you. No matter how I try, I can't reach you."
Elara's breath caught.
The wolf in chains. The silver light. The desperation.
They were dreaming of each other.
The same dreams. The same fears. The same desperate reaching.
The bond, Thorne's voice whispered in her memory. It's stirring in him too.
"There's something," Kael said slowly, his eyes searching her face. "Something I'm missing. Something about you. Every time I'm near you, I feel like I'm on the edge of understanding, and then—" He touched his chest. "Nothing. Like a door slamming shut."
The seal. It's blocking him. Testing him.
Elara made a decision.
Slowly, deliberately, she pulled up her sleeves.
Kael's eyes dropped to her arms. To the silver marks curling from her wrists to her fingers, glowing faintly in the candlelight. To the evidence that she was not what she seemed.
He went completely still.
"What," he breathed, "is that?"
Before she could answer, a howl split the night.
Distant. Urgent. A warning.
Kael spun toward the sound, every muscle in his body going rigid. "Border patrol. Rogues."
He looked back at her, and for one endless moment, something flashed in his silver eyes.
Recognition? No. Not yet.
But awareness. Deep and primal and undeniable.
"Stay here." His voice was Alpha-command, brooking no argument. "Don't move. Don't leave this building."
And then he was gone, shifting mid-stride into a massive black wolf with one silver paw, disappearing into the night.
Elara stood in her tiny corner, marks pulsing, heart hammering, mind spinning.
The rogues are here.
They're hunting me.
And the Alpha just saw proof that I'm not human.
She pulled her sleeves down. Sat on her cot. Waited.
And tried not to think about the look in Kael's eyes before he'd left.
The look that said, for the first time, he'd actually seen her.
---
End of Chapter 4🐺