Levi's POV
The recruits are slow today.
I watch them fumble through basic combat drills, their movements clumsy and uncertain. Three of them are new. They still flinch when I raise my voice. They still look surprised when I tell them they are doing something wrong.
By next month, they will understand that flinching gets you killed.
Kael stands beside me with his arms crossed. He is smaller than me but his presence carries weight. We have been through too much together to need words most of the time. He just watches and nods at whatever I am thinking and we understand each other.
That is what happens when you build a pack from ashes. The bonds get deeper faster.
I am about to send them on a running drill when Kael's entire body goes tense.
His head snaps toward the eastern border. His nostrils flare. The look on his face says everything.
Something has crossed into our territory.
I do not wait for explanation. I shift into wolf form before Kael can even speak and I am already moving toward the scent. My pack scatters, alert and ready. This is what we have trained for. This is what keeps us alive.
The scent is strong but wrong. It is not another rogue. It is not a warrior from a neighboring pack. It is something that makes my entire body go rigid as I run.
Royal.
I follow the scent through the forest, moving faster than anything should be able to move. My paws barely touch the ground. The trees blur past. Every cell in my body is pulling me forward like something is yanking at my chest.
Then I see it.
A silver wolf collapsed in the clearing ahead. Female. Bleeding. Half-dead. The fur is bright like moonlight even coated in dirt and blood. The eyes are violet. Violet like royalty. Violet like Moonvale.
My wolf stops dead.
Everything inside me screams at the same time. Multiple voices all shouting over each other. Mate. Mine. Need. Kill. Protect. Destroy. Mine.
I cannot move. I cannot breathe. I cannot process the war happening inside my own body.
The wolf is barely conscious. I can see her ribs moving with shallow breaths. The wound on her shoulder is infected. Her paws are mangled. She has been out here surviving on nothing for days.
And my entire soul is screaming that she is mine.
But my human mind cuts through the chaos and it recognizes her.
Silver hair. Violet eyes. Royal markings fading on her fur. She is not just royal. She is Moonvale royal. She is the daughter of King Aldric. She is the daughter of the man who murdered my entire family.
She is the daughter of the man who slaughtered my mother in front of me.
The two instincts collide and I feel like I am being torn apart. Every part of me wants to kill her. Every part of me wants to protect her. Both desires are so violent and so intense that I cannot tell which one is stronger.
She is dying.
I can feel it through something that is not quite the bond but something close. Something that connects us even though we have never met. Her fever is high. Her infection is spreading. In another day, maybe two, her body will give up.
Kill her. It would be merciful. It would be justice.
Save her. My wolf demands it with teeth and claws and primal rage.
I stand frozen in the middle of the clearing and I feel like I am going insane.
Seven years. I have spent seven years building myself back from nothing. Seven years learning to survive alone. Seven years teaching myself that trust is suicide and love is a weapon and the only way to stay alive is to never let anyone matter.
Then a dying girl stumbles into my territory and everything shatters.
Her eyes flutter open for a moment. She sees me. The panic that floods through her is so strong I can smell it. She thinks I am going to kill her. She is right to think that. I should kill her.
But her eyes are scared and vulnerable and she looks so small lying there in the dirt and blood.
I make a choice that will destroy me or save me. I do not know which yet.
I shift into human form.
The air hits my skin cold and sharp. I am breathing hard like I just finished a fight. My hands are shaking. Every muscle in my body is locked tight with the effort of not doing both things at once.
I walk toward her and I hate myself for it.
She tries to move away but her body will not obey. The fever has taken too much. She can only watch as I approach.
I kneel beside her and I can feel her wolf trying to decide if she should fight or surrender. She cannot do either. She is too weak.
I reach out and lift her carefully into my arms. She is so light. So fragile. So breakable.
She is the daughter of the man who destroyed me and I am carrying her like she is made of glass.
I hate this. I hate the bond. I hate the way my body is responding to her scent like it is the only air I have been allowed to breathe in seven years. I hate that some part of me knew this girl was missing and I did not even know why.
But I am already moving toward my cabin. I am already planning how to save her life.
She is unconscious now. The fever has taken her. She does not see the rage in my eyes or feel the conflict tearing me apart. She just lies against my chest like she trusts me not to hurt her.
She is an idiot.
But she is my idiot.
The thought comes with such force that I almost drop her. She is not mine. She will never be mine. She is a royal. I am a rogue. She is the enemy.
But my wolf does not care about politics or history or seven years of surviving alone. My wolf knows something that my human mind is still trying to accept.
She is my mate.
And I am about to spend the next three days fighting to save her life while hating every second of it.