Chapter 22: Where It Hurts to Trust
760 Words
Luna didn’t feel the pain until after the blood started dripping.
She was too focused on the surrounding wolves—younger than her, some barely trained, all trembling. They had held the eastern line for three nights without rest. No sleep. No Kael.
Only her.
And now, the Queen’s soldiers were on them.
Not scouts.
Elite breakers.
And Luna had just taken a blade to the thigh to keep one of her younger warriors from dying.
She pressed her palm into the wound and gritted her teeth.
The bond was silent.
Still.
Muted like Kael had pressed it behind a wall.
He wasn’t dead. She’d know.
But something was wrong.
And now—she had to fight without him.
The Queen watched from the ridge, flanked by mirror-cloaked sentinels, her hands clasped loosely.
She didn’t speak.
Didn’t need to.
Her wolves attacked like a hive—silent, endless, precise.
Luna slashed through one.
Dodged a second.
Took a claw to the shoulder.
Still, she fought.
Still, she stood.
Until the Queen spoke.
Only once.
One word.
“Shatter.”
And half of Luna’s wolves dropped screaming.
Clutching their heads. Bleeding from their noses.
Magic.
Mirrorfire.
It tore through the blood oath Kael had marked them with two weeks ago.
A binding meant to protect.
Now, we are used to destroy.
Luna’s breath froze in her lungs.
Her wolves—Kael’s wolves—were dying from his bond.
“No,” she whispered.
And ran.
She barreled through the tree line, ignoring the calls behind her, the blood in her boots, the scream in her ribs.
Straight into the heart of the old hunter’s path.
Where Kael had first kissed her.
Where he had first chosen her.
And now—
Where she needed him.
She burst into the ridge clearing at dawn.
He was there.
Alone.
Reading.
His cloak unfastened.
His armor stacked neatly beside him.
No guards.
No wolves.
Just him.
And the fire behind his eyes when he saw her.
“Luna?”
She didn’t speak.
She walked straight up to him.
And slapped him.
Hard.
Kael staggered.
The scroll he held dropped to the dirt.
Luna’s voice shook. “They’re dead." Half the eastern pack—dead.”
“I told them to hold—”
“You didn’t tell them you linked their bloodlines to a cursed vault sigil!”
Kael paled.
“I thought it was clean.”
“You thought wrong.”
She shoved him again.
He let her.
But when she raised her hand a third time, he caught it.
And his voice broke.
“I’m trying to end this war without watching you die.”
She blinked.
“What?”
Kael’s hand dropped.
“I needed you away because I was going to draw the Queen out.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You would’ve followed.”
“I should have.”
Silence.
Breathless. Raw.
Between them: smoke.
Within them: rage.
Desire.
Grief.
She turned away.
He stepped behind her.
Laid his hands on her shoulders.
Her body shook.
“I don’t know how to love you and still let you bleed for me,” he whispered.
“I don’t want your protection,” she said. “I want your truth.”
She turned.
Pressed her palm to his chest.
“I want all of it.”
He kissed her.
There was no softness.
Only heat.
Only teeth.
Only need.
He pushed her into the old watchstone, his mouth on hers, hands already under her shirt.
She tore his belt loose.
He lifted her in one fluid motion.
Enter her in a single thrust.
And they both gasped.
She clawed his back.
He bit her shoulder.
They moved like fire—fast, brutal, perfect.
This wasn’t lovemaking.
This was war.
This was forgiveness.
This was anger given form.
When they came, it was nearly at the same moment.
Her head thrown back.
His mouth was on her chest.
Both of them shook.
Both of them are alive.
They slid to the ground together.
Tangled.
Bare.
Still connected.
Neither spoke.
Only their hearts—pounding in time.
Only the bond—no longer silent.
When the silence broke, it was Kael who spoke first.
“I’ll undo it,” he said. “Every mark. Every cursed thread.”
“And I’ll go back,” Luna said. To the wolves. To finish what we started.”
He nodded.
But something in her eyes said:
I’m not sure if I trust you again.
Not fully.
Not yet.
And that hurt more than any blade.
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