Chapter 11 The Knock at Midnight
Elara's
The sun rose pale over nameless forest, its weak light spilling across the wooden beams of Dorian’s home. I woke to the unfamiliar quiet, the faint crackle of a fire, and the smell of roasted bread. For the first time in weeks, I hadn’t opened my eyes to damp walls or the stench of mold from a cheap inn.
Dorian was already up, sleeves rolled, moving about the kitchen with an ease that made the small cabin feel… safe. Too safe.
“You should eat before we leave,” he said, sliding a plate toward me. “The docks will be busy today. More crates, more coin.”
I nodded, murmuring thanks, though my chest tightened. Safety was an illusion I knew that better than anyone.
As I chewed, Dorian leaned against the table, studying me. “You’re restless. Is it the Guild?”
I froze. My gaze dropped to the bread in my hands.
“They’ve been sighted more often,” he continued quietly. “Groups of them, near the city. You have to be careful.”
The words sank like stones. I had survived this long by keeping one step ahead, by never trusting too much. But still, something about Dorian made me hesitate. He wasn’t prying. He wasn’t pushing. He was just… here.
And I hated how much that mattered.
••
Elsewhere, deep in Ashvale’s underbelly, the Hunter Guild convened. The air in their chamber was thick with smoke and iron.
“She’s close,” one muttered, slamming a knife into the table. “The Silverfang girl. We can smell her blood in this city.”
Another leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “She’s not just a stray wolf. She’s worth more than coin. She’s the key to what we’ve been hunting for years.”
Their leader only smiled thinly. “Find her. Bring her alive. Or bleed for your failure.”
••
By the time Dorian and I stepped into the streets, the market was already stirring. Yet every sound set my nerves on edge. Every glance over my shoulder revealed nothing and yet… something.
I caught it then. A flicker in the crowd. A figure moving when we moved, pausing when we paused. My skin prickled.
“Someone’s watching us,” I whispered.
Dorian’s eyes narrowed, but when he turned, the figure was gone.
I told myself to breathe. To focus on the work ahead. But unease clung to me like a second skin.
••
Third POV's
And miles away, under the blood-colored moon, Kael mounted his steed. His expression was a storm. Controlled, cold, but dangerous beneath the surface.
“I won’t waste another night,” he growled to himself. “She won’t slip through me again.”
The thought of her. Alone, hunted, with another man’s shadow beside her, ignited a fire in his chest.
If the Guild touched her, they would die.
If another man claimed her, he would burn.
Elara belonged to him.
Night fell. Dorian’s home was quiet again, his breathing steady in the room next door. Elara lay awake, staring at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling at her but unease keeping her tethered to the dark.
Then,
A knock. Soft. At the window.
Her pulse lurched. Slowly, she rose, padding barefoot across the floor. She drew the curtain back just enough,
And froze.
Eyes. Silver, burning in the night.
Kael.
Standing in the shadows, waiting. Watching.
Elara froze, her body stiff. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Kael’s silhouette framed by the crimson moonlight. Then footsteps behind her.
“Elara?”
Dorian appeared, his breath uneven. His gaze followed hers, and the moment he saw the figure by the window, his expression hardened. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and pulled Elara behind him, shielding her with his body.
Kael didn’t move. He stood there, calm and composed, as if the world itself bent to his stillness. The nameless forest outside seemed suffocated by silence no owls, no rustling leaves, nothing but the weight of anticipation pressing down on them.
“If you’ve come to take her,” Dorian’s voice cut through the heavy air, low and firm, “you’ll have to fight me first.”
Elara swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She could feel the heat radiating from Dorian’s body in front of her, but also the piercing intensity of Kael’s gaze, locking onto her like a claim written in blood.
Kael didn’t bristle at the challenge. Instead, his lips curved into a crooked, dangerous smile, one that was as unsettling as it was magnetic.
“Fight me?” His voice was deep, almost amused. “You’re brave, wolf… but bravery won’t save you.”
Elara realized this clash was inevitable. The question was no longer if Kael would take her but how high a price Dorian would pay trying to stop him.
Elara’s breath caught when Kael’s voice rolled across the room, dark and unyielding.
“Step aside, wolf.”
Her eyes widened. Wolf? The word struck her like thunder. She turned to Dorian, suddenly seeing him in a light she had never considered before. A werewolf, just like her. But this was no time for questions. The air between the two men bristled with danger, thick enough to suffocate.
Kael’s lips curled into a sly, almost mocking smile. “This shack is too small for what’s about to happen. Come outside, unless you’d rather let her watch you bleed here.”
Dorian didn’t hesitate. He moved first, stepping out of the wooden door without a single word. Elara’s pulse raced, and though fear clawed at her chest, she followed close behind.
Outside, the night swallowed them whole. The crimson moon hung low, bathing the clearing in a cold, eerie glow. Kael stood only a few paces away, his body still in human form, but his gaze. Sharp, golden, predatory was enough to make Elara’s knees weaken.
She reached instinctively for Dorian’s hand, gripping it tight. “Don’t,” she whispered, almost begging. Memories of blood and fire from the Silverfang massacre surged back. She couldn’t bear to see Dorian torn apart the same way.
Kael tilted his head, a cruel glimmer dancing in his eyes.
“If you back down now, wolf,” he drawled, his tone dripping with contempt, “you’re no man at all. Just a coward hiding behind a girl.”
The words sliced through the night, sharper than claws.
Elara’s heart pounded as she realized Kael wasn’t just here to claim her, he was here to break Dorian. And this time, she might not be able to stop the blood from spilling.
