Not from a predator, not from a pursuer—at least not one with a name or face. She fled from a legacy, from a war she didn’t start, from a kingdom that sacrificed her for peace.

The human world stretched around her in jarring contrast—loud, metallic, and coarse. Cars roared like beasts. Buildings loomed like dead trees. The sky glowed with artificial stars. None of it felt real.

And yet, this was her reality now.

The enchanted forest she once called home—whispering with magic, ancient and alive—was far behind her. In its place stood pavement, streetlamps, and a cold kind of silence that pressed against her ribs.

She pulled her hood tighter, hiding the curve of her ears beneath dark fabric. Even here, alone on a quiet street, she couldn’t risk being seen for what she was. An elf. A princess. A threat.

The kingdom of Elowen had made its choice: surrender a daughter to prevent war. Rynaria hadn’t fought it. She understood what her exile meant. She just hadn’t expected the loneliness to feel so heavy.

Briarwood appeared ahead just as the sun dipped below the horizon. The town looked like something from an old photograph—quaint houses, warm yellow windows, smoke curling from chimneys. Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Something about that stillness made her skin crawl.

She kept her head down, steps quiet, until she reached the edge of town. There, half-swallowed by vines and time, sat an old house. The last thing her family owned in the human world. Its roof sagged, its windows shuttered, but it stood.

It would do.

Rynaria moved toward it, but a sound stopped her—footsteps, deliberate and close.

She turned sharply.

A figure stepped out of the dark.

He wasn’t human.

Amber eyes met hers, glowing faintly in the twilight. The scent hit her a moment later—wild, woodsmoke and pine, sharp with something she couldn’t name.

Werewolf.

But not wild.

Not feral.

He moved with control, like someone who understood how to weaponize stillness. The air around him pulsed with restrained strength.

“You’re far from home, princess,” he said, voice low and unhurried.

Rynaria froze.

Her dagger was within reach. So was the magic curled deep in her chest—dormant but ready. She didn’t draw either. Not yet.

He knew.

He called her princess.

Her throat tightened. “You’ve been following me.”

“I noticed you,” he said, stepping closer. “This isn’t a town that gets strangers. Not ones like you.”

“What do you want?”

His smirk was subtle, but it pulled at something primal beneath her skin.

“Nothing,” he said. “But this is Thornridge territory. You should know where you’re walking.”

Her pulse kicked hard.

Thornridge.

One of the strongest packs still bound to ancient law. And this man… he wasn’t just a scout. His presence carried weight.

He was someone important.

Maybe even someone dangerous.

Everything about this town—and everything about Kael Thornridge—was dangerous.

The humans were just a veil. A distraction. Underneath their smiles and small talk, the old war still smoldered. Rynaria could feel it, humming beneath the surface. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t supposed to feel drawn to anything—or anyone.

And yet, his words echoed in her mind: I’ll be watching you.

She turned away from the shadows he disappeared into, heading for the abandoned house she’d claimed as her own. Cracked shingles. Hollow walls. The last relic of her family’s touch in the human world.

It would have to be enough.

Inside, dust coated every surface. The magic that once lived here had faded, but traces clung to the corners like cobwebs. She placed a hand to the wall and felt it faintly—her lineage, distant but real. It steadied her.

She was here for one purpose: to stay hidden. To make sure the war didn’t follow her into Briarwood.

But her thoughts kept circling back to him.

Kael Thornridge.

She didn’t have time for this. She couldn’t afford distractions—not with bloodlines and borders at stake.

Days passed. Rynaria kept her distance, moving through town like a shadow. She avoided conversation, kept her hood low, and returned to the house before nightfall. She watched. Listened. Blended.

Until the third day.

She spotted him again near the town square—leaning against a lamppost like he belonged there, like he owned the air around him. Relaxed, but alert. Dangerous, without even trying.

Her heart stumbled. She ducked behind a vegetable cart.

It was instinct.

But it was also useless.

He saw her the moment she moved.

“Princess,” he called, his voice cutting clean through the market chatter.

This time, there was no teasing edge. Just curiosity. And something else—something almost warm.

Rynaria froze.

He was already walking toward her. No rush, no tension. Just certainty.

She stayed behind the cart for half a heartbeat longer, then slowly stepped out. Her hood was still up, but his eyes found hers without hesitation.

“I told you I’d be watching,” he said. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

She didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

His presence was like a storm—calm on the surface, pressure building beneath. His eyes held hers, steady and unreadable.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” he added. “But I’m not going anywhere either.”

Rynaria felt the words like a stone dropped in still water.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, quieter than she intended.

Kael’s smirk faded into something softer. “I’m not following you,” he said. “I’m intrigued.”

The honesty—or the confidence behind it—unnerved her more than any threat could’ve. He took a step closer, and the scent of pine and something wilder filled her lungs.

He didn’t speak again.

He didn’t need to.

And she had no idea what to do with the way her heart responded.

“I don’t have time for curiosity,” she said quietly. “And I don’t have time for you.”

Kael chuckled, low and warm. “I think you do.”

Rynaria’s heart thudded. She wanted to deny it, to push him away, but something inside her leaned in. Something dangerous.

Before she could say more, a voice rang out from behind them.

“Kael!”

They both turned.

A tall woman approached—sharp-featured, regal, her eyes glowing faintly gold. Alpha-blooded. Her energy filled the space.

“Who’s this?” she asked, eyes locking on Rynaria with cool assessment.

Kael’s posture didn’t change. “Just someone I met.”

The woman didn’t look convinced. “Well, don’t keep her too long. Your father is expecting you.”

Kael gave a slow nod. “I’ll be there.”

Then, to Rynaria—softer, lower—he said, “I’ll see you again, princess.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The silence that followed pressed in around her. The weight of what just happened—of what it meant—settled like a stone in her chest.

She should walk away. She should forget his name.

But Rynaria knew she wouldn’t.

Not now.