Chapter 8 The Weight of Secrets

Kael’s grip on my arm was steady, unyielding. His eyes—dark, relentless—never wavered. “Come with me,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “Bloodmoon will keep you safe.”

I yanked my arm free, fury rushing like fire through my veins.

“Safe?” My voice cracked with disbelief. “You think I would ever live in that cursed fortress? I’d rather run until my lungs bleed than serve in the pack that destroyed mine.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t back down. “There’s a reason you survived that night, Elara. You weren’t spared by chance.”

The words struck deep, but I forced myself to spit them back at him. “Yes, there’s a reason—because you let me go. After you slaughtered everyone I loved, after you drenched Silverfang in blood, you left me alive. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Kael’s eyes hardened, but there was something else flickering beneath the surface—pain, or regret, I couldn’t tell.

“You’re wrong,” he said, steady and calm, as if holding back a storm. “There are truths you don’t know. Secrets buried deeper than your hate.”

My hands trembled, not with fear but with rage. “Secrets? You murdered my pack in one night! My father, my mother, my kin—you call that a secret?” My voice broke into a sharp cry. “You’ve sinned beyond forgiveness, Kael. And one day, you’ll choke on your own karma.”

Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. For a moment, only the whisper of the wind through the ruins filled the void. Then Kael’s lips curved into the faintest, bitterest smile.

“I already am,” he murmured. “Every day.”

I shook my head violently, refusing to believe him, refusing to see anything but the monster who had ripped my world apart. I turned away, heart pounding, breath ragged, every muscle screaming for distance.

But before I could move, Kael spoke again, his voice a warning and a promise all at once. “You’ll learn the truth, Elara. Whether you want it or not.”

I froze, the air tightening in my chest. My hate burned brighter than ever—yet somewhere, deep in the cracks of my fury, a single, unwanted question clawed its way in.

What truth?

And why did his eyes look as though he carried a burden even heavier than my grief?

A bitter laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. I tilted my head, my smile sharp and venomous.

“So, the great Alpha Kael does suffer after all.” My words dripped with mockery. “Thank the gods for finally giving you a taste of what you deserve. If that’s your karma, I’m glad to hear it.”

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes—dark, shadowed—shifted. There was something there, something heavy, like a man silently asking forgiveness without ever daring to speak the words.

But no matter what flickered beneath that mask, he was still the same man. Cold. Ruthless. Overbearing. The monster who had crushed my pack into dust. That part of him hadn’t changed, and never would.

“I will take you to Bloodmoon,” he said, voice firm, final. “Whether you fight me or not.”

I met his gaze, steady and unflinching, and whispered with all the steel I had left inside me, “If you do, I’ll slit my own throat before I take one step inside your fortress.”

His eyes widened, the mask cracking for the briefest instant. He didn’t move, but I saw it—the hesitation, the shock. And beneath it, something else. Fear. Not for himself. For me.

“I mean it,” I pressed, my chest rising and falling in rage. “I would rather die free than live as your prisoner.”

Something dark and unspoken rippled in his gaze, but I didn’t let him speak. I raised my hand, trembling with fury, and struck at him.

My palm met his cheek with all the force I had left, but he didn’t flinch. He stood there like stone, unyielding, as if the blow was nothing but wind against a mountain.

Frustration clawed at me, hot and violent, so I hit him again, pounding at his chest, his shoulder, wherever my fists could reach. Still, nothing. His body was solid, immovable, carved from the same cruelty that had destroyed my world.

Finally, I staggered back, panting, my hand stinging, my eyes burning. “Stay away from me,” I spat, my voice shaking. “Don’t you dare come near me again.”

Kael didn’t move, didn’t answer. He only stared at me, silent, unreadable. But in that silence, I felt it—the weight of something unsaid, the pull of something dangerous and inevitable.

And in the pit of my stomach, I knew this wasn’t the end.

No matter how far I ran, no matter how much I hated, Kael would come for me again.

I wiped the back of my hand across my lips, forcing the tremor in my chest to steady. I had said what I needed to say. I had struck him, cursed him, spit every shard of my hatred at his face. There was nothing left to give him—no more rage I was willing to waste.

I turned away.

For a moment, I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder. Kael hadn’t moved. He just stood there, watching me with an expression I couldn’t read—half-shadow, half something I refused to understand.

That silence was worse than any threat.

I tightened my cloak and quickened my steps, my boots crunching against the overgrown earth. I wouldn’t let him think I was afraid. Not of him. Not anymore.

I had survived too much to crumble now. I was raised in flight, molded by hunger and fear, sharpened by the streets that had no mercy for orphans of war. Running was my second nature, survival my only weapon.

And if Alpha Kael thought he could cage me, he’d soon learn what a desperate, cornered wolf could do.

Still, even as I left the ruins behind, I could feel it. His eyes on me. That weight in the air.

Kael wasn’t chasing me this time.

But I knew—deep in the marrow of my bones—that he would.

••

I didn’t know how far I had walked. The path bled into the wild, no direction, no plan—just distance. Distance from Kael, from the ruins, from everything I couldn’t bear to face.

Ashvale was no longer an option. Too many eyes, too many whispers, too many hunters. Going back there was walking into a trap, and I wasn’t foolish enough to let myself be cornered.

So I drifted. Step after step. Until fate decided to toy with me again.

“Running into me twice in one day,” a voice broke the silence. “Starting to look less like chance, don’t you think?”

Dorian.

He leaned casually against a crooked tree at the roadside, as though he’d been waiting for me—or maybe he just had that kind of timing. My breath eased, tension I hadn’t realized I carried softening at the sight of him.

He studied me with that calm, unreadable gaze. “You look like you could use a roof. Just for tonight. I’ve got a place near the forest, nothing fancy… but safe.”

I froze, instincts prickling. Offers like that were never free. My life had taught me better.

“I’m not—” I began, but he raised a hand, stopping me.

“I won’t try anything,” he said firmly, his tone steady, almost offended by the idea. “You need shelter, that’s all. And I know the hunters are still on your trail. If you keep wandering out here alone, they’ll catch up sooner than you think.”

The words lodged in my chest, sharp and true. I hated how much sense they made.

Finally, I nodded. “Fine. Just for tonight.”

He didn’t smile, didn’t gloat, just gave a short nod and gestured for me to follow.

As I trailed after him, I caught myself studying his back, the way he carried himself—not as a man looking to take advantage, but as someone quietly, stubbornly reliable. For the first time in a long while, I admitted it to myself.

Dorian was a good man. A rare one. And somehow, he was always there when I needed it most.

What I didn’t know—what I couldn’t yet see—was that nothing in Ashvale, or beyond, ever happened by accident.