In Her Shadow

A Mate's Vanishing Scent

Chapter Seven:

Mira’s POV

The first thing I noticed when I woke was the silence. It wasn’t the comforting quiet of the forest I’d grown used to but an unnatural stillness, heavy and oppressive. The room around me was unfamiliar, its bare walls and sparse furniture foreign in a way that made my stomach twist.

Where was I?

My fingers brushed against soft sheets, far cleaner than anything I’d slept on in weeks. A faint scent of pine and cedar lingered in the air, mingling with something faintly medicinal. The last thing I remembered was stepping into a clearing, the pack wolves staring at me like I didn’t belong. I didn’t.

But I had no choice.

My mate had been there. I’d felt him before I’d seen anyone else—his aura, strong and commanding, like a beacon calling to me across the void. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt, a pull so powerful it nearly brought me to my knees. And then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. His scent, warm and woodsy, disappeared like smoke on the wind.

I sat up slowly, wincing as pain flared through my bruised ribs. Weeks of wandering had taken their toll, my body pushed to its limits in my desperate attempt to stay ahead of my old pack. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and the faint scars on my arms and hands served as a reminder of what I’d escaped.

Two Weeks Earlier

The halls of my packhouse had always felt like a prison, but that night, they were suffocating. The holiday feast was in full swing, laughter and music spilling from the main hall as wolves celebrated. My family was at the center of it all, my father standing tall as the pack’s Beta, his booming voice commanding attention.

No one knew the truth.

To them, he was strong, honorable, a pillar of our pack. But to me, he was a tyrant, a man who saw me not as his daughter but as a tool to gain power. When the Alpha demanded that I mate with him, my father had agreed without hesitation, treating my life like a pawn in his endless games of control.

“I won’t do it,” I had said that night, my voice trembling but firm.

My father’s hand struck faster than I could react, the slap sending me sprawling to the floor.

“You don’t have a choice,” he growled, his face inches from mine.

That was the moment I decided I couldn’t stay.

The escape wasn’t easy. I waited until the feast reached its peak, the wolves drunk and distracted. Slipping out through the kitchen, I grabbed a small bag of food and a jacket before running into the forest. I didn’t stop running until my legs gave out, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I collapsed in the snow.

That night, under the cold, watchful gaze of the moon, I denounced my pack. I screamed it into the darkness, knowing the magic of my words would sever the ties that bound me to them. They couldn’t track me now, not without my consent.

But freedom came at a cost.

I shook off the memory, my throat tightening as I looked around the room again. My reflection stared back at me from a small mirror on the far wall, and I barely recognized the girl looking back.

My hair, once a rich chestnut, hung in tangled waves around my face, dull and lifeless. My skin was pale, stretched thin over my sharp cheekbones, and my eyes—gray and wide—seemed hollow. My clothes were threadbare, dirty and torn, a stark contrast to the warmth and cleanliness of this strange room.

I touched the bruises on my arms, wincing at the tenderness. My father’s anger had always been quick, but it was nothing compared to the Alpha’s cruelty.

A knock at the door made me flinch, and I scrambled back against the headboard as it opened.

A tall man stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. He had sharp green eyes, like mine, but colder, more calculating. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his posture screamed authority.

“I’m the Alpha,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’re in my territory now. Who are you, and why are you here?”

I hesitated, my heart racing as I tried to decide how much to tell him.

“My name is Mira,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m… I’m not part of any pack.”

His gaze sharpened, and I felt the weight of his scrutiny.

“You smelled like a Beta,” he said, stepping closer. “Which means you had a pack. Why did you leave?”

I clenched my fists, the memories of my escape flashing through my mind. “I left because I had to.”

The Alpha studied me for a moment longer before nodding. “You’ll stay here for now. We’ll decide what to do with you once we know more.”

As he turned to leave, I found myself blurting out the question that had been burning in my mind since I arrived.

“There was someone in the clearing,” I said, my voice trembling. “Someone… strong. I felt him.”

The Alpha paused, his back to me. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.

“Whatever you felt,” he said finally, his tone measured, “it’s gone now..right?”

The door closed behind him, leaving me alone once more.

I sank back against the pillows, my chest aching with a mix of relief and despair. I didn’t know what was worse—the thought that my mate was out there somewhere, or the possibility that he didn’t want me.

But one thing was certain. I couldn’t stay here forever.

Riley’s POV

The tray felt heavier than it should’ve as I carried it down the narrow hallway of the packhouse. The omega servant had looked at me strangely when I intercepted her, but she hadn’t questioned me. No one questioned me anymore. I was the future Alpha, and my word was law—even when I wasn’t sure of the reasons behind it.

The scent of roasted chicken and warm bread rose from the tray, mingling with the faint tang of herbs. My stomach churned, though it had nothing to do with hunger. The food wasn’t for me.

It was for her.

Mira.

The rogue who shouldn’t have been here. The rogue who, against all logic, was my mate.

I gritted my teeth as I reached the door to her room, pausing just outside. My hand tightened around the tray as I tried to steady my breathing. I’d told myself this was a courtesy, a chance to assess her without anyone else watching. A chance to do what needed to be done.

But I wasn’t fooling myself.

The bond was there, thrumming beneath the surface like an unrelenting drumbeat. I’d masked my scent, and shielded the connection so she wouldn’t feel it, but that didn’t mean I was exempt. If anything, I felt it more acutely—like the weight of it had doubled, pressing down on me from all sides.

This was no ordinary bond.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the tray balanced carefully in my hands. She was sitting on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest, her gray eyes wide and wary as they locked onto me.

She looked… fragile.

Her chestnut hair was wild, tangled around her face, and her clothes hung loosely on her thin frame. Bruises mottled her arms, faint but undeniable, and I felt a flicker of something I couldn’t name—anger? Protectiveness?

She stared at me in silence as I set the tray down on the small table by the bed.

“Eat,” I said gruffly, my voice sharper than I intended.

She flinched but didn’t respond, her gaze flicking between me and the tray.

I should’ve left then. I’d delivered the food; there was no reason to linger. But my feet didn’t move. Instead, I stood there, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire.

“What’s your name?” I asked finally, though I already knew the answer.

“Mira,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

I nodded, folding my arms over my chest. “Why are you here?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, defiance flashing in their gray depths. “I didn’t come here on purpose.”

“Then why did you?”

She hesitated, her hands tightening around the edge of the blanket. “I was running. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Running from what?” I pressed, though I already had a good idea.

“My pack,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was something in the way she said it—in the tightness of her jaw, the flicker of pain in her eyes—that made my chest tighten. I shouldn’t care. She was a rogue, an outsider. I had no obligation to her, bond or not.

And yet…

I stepped closer, my wolf growling softly in the back of my mind. Her scent hit me like a wave—earthy, warm, with a faint hint of something floral. It was intoxicating, and I had to fight to keep my walls up.

This was a mistake.

I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t do this.

“I don’t want a mate,” is all that was on repeat in my mind.

She blinked, her expression unreadable.

“Did she hear me?” I closed my eyes and cleared my mind. “I don’t care what the Moon Goddess says,” I thought, staring into her eyes...“I have a responsibility to my pack, which doesn’t include…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely at her, still in my head.

Something flickered across her face—hurt, maybe, or anger—but she didn’t say anything.

I turned to leave, my chest tight and my pulse racing. This was the right choice. I couldn’t afford to let her in, to let anyone in. Not after what I’d seen my father go through.

But as my hand touched the doorknob, I hesitated.

She wasn’t what I’d expected. She wasn’t weak or desperate or manipulative like I’d imagined. She was raw, unpolished, but there was a strength in her—a resilience that made it impossible to turn away.

My wolf growled again, louder this time, and I clenched my fists, fighting the pull.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.

Without looking back, I yanked the door open and stepped out, letting it slam shut behind me.

My heart was racing as I stalked down the hallway, the sound of my boots echoing against the walls. Her scent clung to me, lingering like a ghost, and I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of it.

The bond wasn’t just there—it was alive, thrumming with a power I didn’t fully understand. Shielding her from it didn’t make it easier for me. If anything, it made it worse.

I needed to get out. To clear my head. To breathe.

But no matter how far I went, I knew I couldn’t outrun this.

She was my mate. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, some part of me knew she always would be.