When The Road Went Silent
1423 Words
The road home was quieter than usual.
Adera walked alone, her bag slung over one shoulder, her thoughts drifting back to the party and the days that followed. She still didn’t fully understand what had happened—or why Kael and Thane had stepped in the way they did. The way Kael had defended her, the way his eyes had searched her face afterward… it left her heart unsettled.
Hope was dangerous.
She reminded herself of that with every step.
Behind her, far enough not to be noticed, Kael followed.
He kept his distance on purpose. Close enough to sense her presence, far enough not to draw attention. His instincts screamed to stay nearer, but he forced himself to remain subtle. Too much protection too soon would only make things worse.
He didn’t miss Lyra’s stare from earlier.
Or the smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Adera turned a corner—and froze.
Lyra stood ahead, blocking the narrow road, her arms crossed. Three girls flanked her, all familiar faces. All loyal to the wrong person.
Adera’s heart sank.
“Well,” Lyra drawled, her lips curling. “Look who walks like she owns the road.”
Adera took a step back instinctively. “I don’t want trouble.”
Lyra laughed. “Trouble follows girls like you.”
One of the girls circled behind Adera, another stepping closer. Their movements were deliberate, practiced.
“Did you really think,” Lyra continued, “that because Kael and Thane helped you that day, I’d just let it go?”
Adera’s fingers clenched. “You lied,” she said quietly. “You embarrassed yourself.”
Lyra’s eyes flashed. “Careful.”
Another girl shoved Adera hard. She stumbled but didn’t fall.
“You think you’re special now,” Lyra said, stepping closer. “You think Alphas don’t notice when trash tries to climb too high?”
They pushed her again.
And again.
Adera’s bag fell to the ground. Someone laughed as they kicked it aside.
“Stop,” Adera said, panic rising. “Please.”
They didn’t.
Hands grabbed at her sleeves, her hair. She struggled, heart pounding, fear choking her breath. One of them tore at her shirt, buttons popping loose.
Lyra leaned in, her voice cold. “This is what happens when you forget your place.”
Behind them—
Kael stopped walking.
Someone had stepped directly into his path.
“Alpha Kael,” the boy said nervously, forcing a smile. “I just wanted to talk to you about something—”
Kael’s eyes narrowed instantly.
The boy’s scent was wrong.
Fear. Lies.
“What do you want?” Kael asked, his voice calm but sharp.
The boy hesitated. “I—uh—about school transfers and—”
Kael shifted slightly, trying to look past him.
“Adera was just here,” he said slowly. “Where did she go?”
The boy stepped sideways—blocking his view again.
That was when Kael knew.
“You were sent,” Kael said quietly.
The boy’s face drained of color. “I—I don’t know what you—”
Kael grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
“Move,” Kael growled.
The boy shook his head frantically. “Lyra told me—”
Kael let go instantly.
Lyra.
The world snapped into focus.
Kael spun around, scanning the road.
Adera was gone.
His heart dropped.
He didn’t think. He ran.
The sound reached him first—crying. Choked. Panicked.
Kael rounded the corner and saw red.
Adera was on the ground, surrounded. Her clothes torn, her face streaked with tears, her hands raised weakly as she tried to protect herself.
Lyra stood over her.
“Enough,” Kael said.
The word wasn’t loud.
But it carried power.
Every girl froze.
Lyra turned slowly, her face draining of color. “Kael—”
He moved like a storm.
One look at Adera and something inside him broke completely.
“Touch her again,” he said to Lyra, his voice deadly calm, “and you will beg the Moon for mercy.”
Lyra took a step back.
Kael knelt beside Adera instantly, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her shaking shoulders.
“I’m here,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”
Adera looked up at him, eyes wide with shock and relief.
“You followed me,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Kael replied, guilt heavy in his chest. “And I should have been closer.”
Behind them, the girls fled.
Lyra was the last to leave.
She looked back once, hatred burning in her eyes.
“This isn’t over,” she said.
Kael didn’t look at her.
His attention was entirely on Adera—the girl he had failed once, and would never fail again.
Kael did not sleep that night.
Adera lay curled on the couch in the safe house Rowan had insisted they use, wrapped in blankets too big for her, her breathing shallow but steady. Bruises bloomed faintly along her arms where fingers had dug in. Kael sat across the room, unmoving, his back against the wall, eyes fixed on her like a vow.
This was the moment he had failed before.
In his past life, he had arrived too late.
This time, the Moon itself could not accuse him of ignorance.
He knew who she was.
He knew what she was to him.
His mate.
Unawakened. Untouched by her wolf. Still human in all the ways that made her fragile—and strong. Adera’s wolf slept beneath her skin, waiting for the full Moon after her sixteenth birthday to rise for the first time.
Too soon.
Kael’s jaw tightened.
The bond between them existed already, faint but undeniable, like a thread pulled tight across lifetimes. He had felt it the moment he saw her again—felt it even when she did not look at him, even when she pretended her heart was calm.
She loved him.
Not loudly. Not recklessly.
Quietly. Carefully. Like someone afraid of breaking something precious.
And he had known.
Every step he took, every choice he made now, was shaped by that knowledge. That was the curse of being reborn—not memory of moments, but memory of consequences.
Adera stirred, a soft sound escaping her throat.
Kael was at her side instantly.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly, keeping his distance. “You’re safe.”
Her eyes fluttered open. Confusion flickered, then recognition. “Kael…”
Her voice broke him.
He lowered himself to one knee, careful not to touch her unless she asked. “You should rest.”
She nodded, then hesitated. “Why were you there?”
The question was gentle. Honest.
Dangerous.
Kael chose his words like stepping across thin ice. “I had a feeling,” he said. “And I listen to my instincts.”
She studied him, searching. “You always seem to know when something is wrong.”
If only she knew.
“You’re not invisible, Adera,” he said softly. “Even when you try to be.”
Her cheeks warmed. She looked away, fingers twisting in the blanket. “I don’t try to be obvious.”
“I know,” Kael said.
That was the truth—and the tragedy of it. She loved without asking for anything. Without demanding space in his life. In his past life, he had mistaken her silence for weakness.
Never again.
Outside, the Moon climbed higher.
Kael felt it shift inside him—felt the warning pulse through the pack bond. Wolves stirring. Instincts sharpening.
Adera’s turn was coming.
She didn’t know yet what it would mean. The pain. The fear. The moment her wolf would tear free for the first time and demand to be seen.
And when it happened, enemies like Lyra would smell it on her instantly.
Kael rose and moved to the window, scanning the darkness. His wolf paced beneath his skin, restless and protective.
Sixteen.
Unclaimed mates were vulnerable at sixteen.
And Kael had already seen how far Lyra was willing to go.
Behind him, Adera whispered, “Kael?”
He turned.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For today. You didn’t have to.”
He met her gaze, steady and unyielding. “I will always come,” he said.
It wasn’t a promise.
It was a fact.
Outside, unseen by either of them, the Moon brightened—silver and watchful.
And somewhere deep within Adera, something ancient stirred.
- Writer
