Pain has a sound.

I learned that the moment the bond broke.

It wasn’t a scream, not really. It was quieter than that—sharp and internal, like something tearing loose deep inside my chest. I felt it ripple through me in waves, a brutal echo that left my limbs shaking and my heart stuttering as if it no longer remembered how to beat properly.

The world came back to me in fragments.

Cold earth beneath my palms. The taste of copper on my tongue. The torches blurring into streaks of orange and gold as my vision swam. Someone was shouting my name, their voice distant, stretched thin by disbelief and horror.

“Elara—Elara, breathe.”

Hands gripped my shoulders, grounding and warm. I sucked in a breath that burned all the way down, my lungs seizing as if they were filled with ash instead of air. The bond’s absence was worse than its presence had ever been—an empty, hollow ache where something vital had rooted itself only moments before.

Rejected.

The word echoed relentlessly in my mind.

I had known, logically, that it was possible. That not every mating ended in joy or celebration. But knowing something in theory did nothing to soften the devastation of it happening to you, in front of the entire pack, beneath a moon that had marked you as chosen only to strip that destiny away seconds later.

I lifted my head before I could stop myself.

Alpha Kael still stood where he had been, tall and immovable, the torches casting harsh shadows across his sharp features. His expression was carved from stone, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle ticking beneath the skin.

For one fleeting, foolish moment, our eyes met.

The connection—though shattered—twitched.

Not alive.

But not entirely dead either.

His gaze darkened, silver eyes flashing with something feral and dangerous before he turned away sharply, as if looking at me for even a second longer would cost him something he couldn’t afford to lose.

That was when the murmurs started.

Whispers slithered through the clearing, growing louder with each heartbeat. I didn’t need enhanced hearing to understand them.

“Omega.”

“Rejected.”

“Did you see the way she collapsed?”

“Shameful.”

Each word landed like another blow, driving me further into myself. I curled inward, wrapping my arms around my middle as if I could hold the pieces of myself together through sheer force of will.

The elders moved quickly then, their faces tight with discomfort. The ceremony was over—broken beyond repair—and no one seemed quite sure what to do with me now that the sacred ritual had ended in ruin.

“Take her to the healer,” one of them ordered quietly.

Before I could protest, I was lifted gently into someone’s arms. I barely registered who it was; everything inside me felt numb, dulled by the shock still reverberating through my bones. The clearing faded behind us as I was carried away, the weight of the pack’s stares pressing down on me even after I could no longer see them.

I don’t remember the walk to the healer’s den.

I remember flashes instead—rough stone walls, the scent of crushed herbs, the low murmur of voices speaking in hushed, urgent tones. Someone brushed my hair back from my face, fingers trembling slightly as they checked my pupils. Another pressed a cup to my lips, urging me to drink something bitter and warm.

“The bond shock is severe,” the healer said, her voice tight. “She’s never experienced a partial bond before. Her wolf—”

“She doesn’t have a wolf,” someone interrupted.

The healer hesitated.

“She does,” she said slowly. “It’s just… asleep.”

The words should have meant something to me. Should have sparked questions, confusion, maybe even hope.

Instead, all I could think about was the way Kael had looked at me right before he turned away.

Not disgusted.

Not indifferent.

Afraid.

I drifted in and out of consciousness for hours—or maybe minutes; time had lost all meaning. Each time I surfaced, the ache in my chest greeted me anew, a constant reminder of what had been taken. My dreams were restless and fragmented, filled with silver eyes and shadows that reached for me before dissolving into smoke.

When I finally woke for good, the den was quiet.

Moonlight filtered in through the narrow window, painting pale patterns across the stone floor. The fire in the hearth had burned low, leaving only glowing embers behind. For a long moment, I lay still, listening to the steady rhythm of my own breathing, half-expecting the pain to surge back full force.

It didn’t.

The ache was still there, but muted now—dull and heavy instead of sharp. Like an old bruise you only notice when you press on it.

Slowly, carefully, I pushed myself up.

My body protested, muscles stiff and sore, but I ignored it. I needed to be alone. Needed space to think—to feel—without the weight of pitying looks and whispered judgments pressing in on me from all sides.

I slipped out of the den quietly, pulling a cloak around my shoulders as the night air kissed my skin. The pack was asleep, the paths between dens empty and still. Above me, the moon hung high and bright, its crimson hue softened now to something paler, almost gentle.

I walked without a destination, my feet carrying me beyond the familiar paths and toward the forest’s edge.

That was where he found me.

—or maybe where I found him.

I sensed his presence before I saw him.

The air shifted, thickening with that unmistakable scent—smoke and winter and something darkly intoxicating beneath it. My steps faltered, my heart stuttering painfully in my chest as awareness prickled along my skin.

“Go back.”

His voice was low, edged with warning.

Kael stood a few paces ahead, partially obscured by shadow. The moonlight caught the sharp lines of his profile, the rigid set of his shoulders. He hadn’t looked at me yet, his gaze fixed somewhere deep within the forest as if he were guarding against something unseen.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and taut.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said finally. “Not tonight.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get to worry about me anymore. You made that very clear.”

That got his attention.

He turned then, fully facing me, and the intensity of his gaze nearly stole the breath from my lungs. Up close, the control he wielded so effortlessly in public was fracturing, cracks spider-webbing through the mask he wore.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely.

“Don’t what?” I demanded, heat flaring in my chest. “Don’t ask why you humiliated me? Don’t ask why the bond still hurts even though you broke it? Or don’t ask why I can still feel you standing here like—like you belong to me?”

His jaw clenched, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest before he could stop it.

The sound sent a shiver down my spine.

“Because it was the only way,” he said.

I stared at him, disbelief crashing through me. “The only way to what? Ruin me?”

“To keep you alive.”

The words landed between us like a blow.

My breath caught. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It will,” he said grimly. “Eventually.”

He took a step back, increasing the distance between us as if proximity itself were dangerous. Maybe it was. The air between us felt charged, alive with something unsaid, something pressing against the fragile barrier he was trying desperately to maintain.

“There are things you don’t know about this pack,” he continued. “About what hunts beyond our borders. About what you are.”

“I’m an omega,” I said flatly. “Everyone knows that.”

A flash of something—anger, frustration, maybe even fear—crossed his face.

“No,” he said. “You’re not.”

Before I could ask what he meant, a sharp howl split the night.

Kael stiffened instantly, his head snapping toward the forest. Another howl answered, closer this time—wrong somehow, discordant in a way that made my skin prickle.

“Go back,” he ordered, all Alpha authority now. “Run.”

My pulse spiked. “What’s happening?”

“They’ve found the boundary,” he said, eyes glowing faintly as the shadows around him seemed to deepen. “And if they catch your scent—”

A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, my vision blurring as heat flared in my chest, spreading outward in a rush that left me gasping. I staggered, clutching at my cloak as something inside me answered the distant howl.

Kael was at my side in an instant, his hands gripping my arms to steady me.

The contact sent a shock through us both.

His breath hitched audibly. My senses flooded with him—his warmth, his power, the intoxicating pull that refused to fade no matter how hard he tried to deny it.

“See?” he murmured, voice rough with something dangerously close to desperation. “The bond isn’t gone. It’s waiting.”

Waiting for what, I wanted to ask.

For him to stop running.

For me to awaken.

But before either of us could speak again, the forest erupted with movement, shadows slipping between the trees as eyes gleamed in the darkness.

Kael released me abruptly, stepping in front of me with a snarl that shook the air.

“Stay behind me,” he commanded.

And for the first time since the moon rose crimson over Blackridge Pack, fear gave way to something else entirely.