The Wolf Who Shattered Her Oath to Luna

Chapter 13

By the end of the week, everyone had a version of the story.

In one, I’d single‑handedly saved the wards from a rogue swarm.

In another, I’d nearly blown a hole in Nightwind’s defenses and gotten half a patrol killed.

The truth, as usual, sat somewhere uncomfortable between.

I felt the whispers before I heard them. A prickle on the back of my neck when I walked through the square, the way conversations snapped shut half a beat too late.

“…Alpha plugged her straight into the wards—”

“…you want that in your head?”

“…should have sent her to the Council when they had the chance…”

I ducked into the little supply shop to drop off Mara’s list. Shelves of jars and bundles of dried plants cramped the narrow space. The owner, a thin woman named Heda, pasted on a smile when she saw me.

“Rhea. Your mother’s order?”

I handed over the scrap. “She needs more comfrey and wolfsbane. And salt. A lot of salt.”

“Mm.” Heda’s eyes flicked to my palm when I laid the coins down—still faintly scarred from the stone. “Busy week.”

“You could say that.”

Two other women stood by the shelf of soaps, pretending to compare scents. Their voices carried easily.

“I heard she screamed so loud the wards cracked.”

“Helene says the Alpha had to hold her down. Said it was unnatural.”

“Luna mark us, if my pup ever—”

My jaw locked. Heda’s cheeks flushed; she suddenly found the ledger extremely interesting.

“You can talk to me, you know,” I said, not raising my voice. “It’s more efficient.”

The women jumped, then turned with varying degrees of guilt and indignation. One of them—I recognized her as Mira, whose son I’d stitched up twice this year—lifted her chin.

“We’re just worried,” she said. “Is that not allowed?”

“About the wards or about me existing within ten feet of them?” I asked.

Mira’s friend muttered, “You’re not the one with children sleeping next to those borders.”

Hurt flared, sharp and fast. “I helped carry your boy in when he tore his leg on a fence,” I said to her. “Did you worry about my Hollow hands then?”

Color rose in her face. She didn’t answer.

Mira’s gaze wavered. “It’s different now,” she said. “You were…normal then.”

Normal. As if one night had rewritten my entire life.

“If you think I want any of this,” I said, voice going hoarse, “you’re wrong. I didn’t ask to be tied to the wards. I didn’t ask to have some stranger in the dark poking at my head.” I forced a breath. “But I’m still the same wolf who stayed up three nights with your kid’s fever. If that counts for nothing, say it to my face.”

The shop felt too small. Too bright. Heda studied her counter like it contained deep cosmic wisdom.

Mira’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “I’m…grateful,” she said stiffly. “For what you did for Cam. And for the wards. But gratitude doesn’t make fear vanish.”

“No,” I said quietly. “It doesn’t.”

I took the bundle Heda slid across the counter and stepped around them, shoulders brushing the hanging herbs.

Outside, cool air hit my face. I let it.

“Hey.” Kael fell into step beside me, a paper bag under one arm. “I saw smoke from three streets away. Everything still standing?”

“Barely.” I exhaled. “Apparently I’m hero and hazard of the week. Depends on who you ask.”

He winced. “Yeah. I heard some of it at the bar. Half the patrol wants to buy you a drink. The other half wants to bubble‑wrap you and ship you to the Council so the problem is ‘somewhere else.’”

“Tempting,” I muttered.

We turned down the lane toward home. Chickens scattered from our path; a pup darted past, chasing something only he could see.

“You know what I think?” Kael asked.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

“They’re scared of things they can’t control,” he said. “Rogues. Councils. You. If they can file you under ‘Hollow, contained’ and pretend that’s enough, it lets them sleep.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Not really.” He bumped my shoulder. “But it means their fear says more about them than about you.”

Before I could answer, a familiar voice called my name.

“Rhea!”

Darius jogged up from the crossroads, hair damp with sweat, training leathers streaked with dirt. He slowed as he reached us, gaze flicking to Kael, then to me.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

Kael arched a brow. “I was just leaving,” he said, which was a lie; he hated missing drama. “Don’t break anything.”

He peeled off, whistling.

Silence settled between me and Darius like fog.

Up close, he looked older than a few weeks ago—shadows under his eyes, tension carved into his mouth. The rejection oath sat between us, an invisible blade.

“What do you want?” I asked.

He flinched. “I heard about the wards,” he said. “What you did. What you’re…tied to now.”

“You and everyone else.”

“I just—” He raked a hand through his hair. “I wanted to say… I didn’t know this was what they meant when they called you dangerous.”

Anger flickered, then something more tired. “You thought ‘dangerous’ meant what, exactly? That I’d bite you?”

He grimaced. “I thought it meant Council trouble. Pack trouble. I didn’t think it meant you standing between us and whatever’s out there.”

“Still glad you cut the bond?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

His jaw worked. “Glad isn’t the word I’d use for anything about that night.” His eyes met mine, naked for once. “I was a coward. I won’t pretend I wasn’t. But I’m not going to stand on the sidelines if they use that bond as an excuse to sideline you now.”

I stared. “What does that even mean, Darius?”

“It means,” he said, voice low, “if they try to lock you away ‘for your own good,’ they’ll have to go through me too.”

I opened my mouth, a dozen sharp replies fighting to get out—

And behind his shoulder, I caught a flicker of movement at the treeline. A prickle ran along my spine.

The wards hummed, soft and wrong.

Not now.