Rosari’e

Chapter 3:thoughts of a dying man

Kieran’s POV

The snow bit at my bare feet as I staggered across the border, the cold gnawing through skin, bone, pride. Behind me, the gates slammed shut, a final judgment.

“Outcast.”

“Traitor.”

“Cursed.”

The words still rang in my ears, each one heavier than the chains they had just stripped from me. My own pack. My own blood. My Alpha—my father. He had looked at me like I was nothing, like the son he raised had died long before tonight.

I should have fought back. I should have begged. But what was the point? Once your own kind looks at you like a monster, you’re already halfway gone.

The scar across my chest burned where their claws had marked me—banishment carved into flesh. No return. No forgiveness.

Snow fell harder, erasing my tracks as fast as I made them. I wondered if that was fate’s way of saying I never existed at all.

My wolf paced inside me, restless, angry, howling for vengeance. But I was too tired to listen. Too tired to fight. Alone now, for the first time in my life.

I tilted my head to the sky, the moon barely a sliver through the storm. “If there’s a place for me,” I muttered, voice rough with frost and fury, “let it find me. Or let me die before I crawl.”

And with that, I kept walking. Step by step. Nowhere to go, but forward anyway.

Because even outcasts have a destiny

The snow didn’t care that I was bleeding. It welcomed my blood greedily, soaking it into the white earth until it disappeared, as if even the ground wanted to erase me.

My wolf howled inside me, furious, restless, pacing the cage of my ribs like a beast chained too long. I could feel his claws raking at me from within, begging to be let loose, to turn back, to rip apart the ones who had cast us out.

Let me go. Let me tear them open. Let me show them what we are.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because what would it change? My father’s eyes—hard, merciless, as if he had never loved me—were burned into my memory. His command still rang in my ears.

“Strip him of his name. Strip him of his rank. Mark him an outcast. If he ever returns, kill him where he stands.”

And then the claws came. His men. My brothers once. They didn’t hesitate. Their blades cut into me, their teeth sank into my flesh, each strike a reminder that I didn’t belong anymore. By the time they threw me past the border, I could barely stand.

Every step forward now was agony. My chest burned where silver had kissed skin. My ribs screamed with each breath. The freezing air stabbed my lungs, slicing deeper than any blade.

The snowstorm swallowed the world whole. The wind was merciless, cutting across my skin like knives. My legs trembled, every muscle screaming for rest, but stopping wasn’t an option. To stop was to die.

Still…

The truth was, I wanted to die.

My wolf’s fury was a storm inside me, tearing at the walls of my mind. His growls echoed in my head, feral, desperate.

Coward. Weakling. They tried to kill us and you did nothing.

“I did enough,” I hissed aloud, though my lips were cracked, bleeding. The words steamed in the air and were carried away by the wind. “I survived.”

Survived? You call this survival?

The claws in my chest raked deeper, his fury pressing against me until I staggered forward, coughing blood onto the snow. My wolf hated this—hated being caged, hated my refusal to give him full control when he knew he could slaughter them all.

But they weren’t just faceless enemies. They were my pack. My family. My father.

And despite everything, despite the wounds and the exile and the shame, part of me still wanted them to love me.

A broken laugh tore out of my throat, sharp and bitter. “I’m pathetic.”

My wolf snarled in answer.

The cold seeped deeper now, gnawing through bone. My hands shook violently. My vision blurred at the edges. Snowflakes stuck to my lashes, my blood freezing where it dripped.

I kept walking. One step. Another. Every crunch of snow beneath my feet was slower than the last.

Until I stopped.

The world tilted sideways, the storm roaring louder than my own heartbeat. My knees gave way, sinking into the snow. My wolf roared, furious that I dared to collapse, but even his strength couldn’t hold me up anymore.

The snow rose to meet me, cold and endless, pulling me down into silence.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t fight it.

I let the darkness take me.

And the last thought that crossed my mind before everything went black was a cruel, desperate whisper:

Maybe this is where I die. Maybe this is all I was ever meant for