Found
800 Words
KAELAN
I don’t sleep much after the nightmares.
I never do.
But tonight… she was there.
I remember the sound first. My own voice—strained, broken. The dream still haunts me, even after so many years. Fire , screaming, blood. I felt trapped. And then, suddenly, her hands. Shaking me. A soft voice calling my name.
“Kaelan,” she whispered. “Wake up.”
I shot up, breath ragged, soaked in sweat, disoriented.
And she was right there. Kneeling beside the bed in the dark, her face tight with concern.
Without thinking, I reached for her.
I pulled her into my arms like I needed her just to breathe again.
And goddess, it felt… right.
Her warmth, her scent, the way her body fit so perfectly in my hold. Everything just stopped—no more voices, no more chaos in my head. Just her.
I held her like I never wanted to let go.
That’s why I pushed her away.
Not because it felt wrong.
Because it didn’t.
Because it felt like peace. And I don’t deserve peace.
The moment I let go, I saw it in her eyes—something had changed. We’ve always had our banter, our distance, but this was different.
She looked at me like she hated me.
Good.
Hatred is better. Cleaner. It’ll make things easier. For both of us.
She didn’t say anything. Just quietly crept back into her chair and left the room the second the sun rose.
I didn’t stop her.
***
The day drags.
Council meetings, as usual. Long hours pretending to be what I’m not.
A leader.
A crippled, hollowed-out shell of a leader.
They keep bringing me here—placing me in the high seat, dressing me in robes, announcing me like I’m some war hero. But I know the truth.
I’m a puppet.
Madeline pulls the strings. Always has.
I sit there while she talks, makes decisions, hands out orders. And when she’s done, she always turns to me and says, “What do you think, Alpha?”
As if my approval matters.
Even if I said no, nothing would change.
I clench my jaw through the whole performance, pretending to need the wheelchair resting against my leg, pretending to be tired, weak. It’s all a lie, and the only person who knows it is her.
Juliette.
The only one who sees me for what I really am.
***
The meeting drags on, full of pointless debates, when the doors suddenly burst open.
A guard steps in, panting. “Forgive the interruption, but… Calla is here. Juliette’s maid. She’s—hysterical.”
The council members groan in irritation. One mutters, “Why are we being interrupted for this?”
But the guard steps forward and adds, “It’s urgent. Juliette is in danger.”
My heart stops.
I sit up straighter, every muscle in my body alert.
“Let her in,” I say, my voice sharper than it’s been all day.
Calla stumbles into the room, hair messy, her eyes wild with fear. “We were riding—horses—like she wanted,” she stammers. “Then something… something big rushed us in the woods. A bear, I think. I ran. I—I couldn’t find her.”
The room explodes with murmurs.
Madeline immediately snaps her fingers. “Send search parties now. Take the hounds. Sweep the eastern woods.”
And even though I want to do nothing but get up on my feet and go look for her, I have to wait to be out in my chair and rolled away.
***
The car ride is tense. Every second feels like a knife digging into my chest.
She’ll be fine.
I repeat it again and again, but my hands still won’t stop shaking.
Not from fear for myself.
For her.
She’s strong, but she’s not a fighter. She could be bleeding. Alone. Or worse.
I push down the thoughts, but they keep crawling back. Images of her broken, cold, still.
I can’t explain it, but I can’t breathe right until I see her again.
The second we reach the edge of the forest, i instruct the guards to bring me out of the car. Immediately my chair touches grass, I’m shoving past the guards. “Fan out,” I bark. “Start now.”
I head straight into the trees, trying to look for any signs of her.
We search for what feels like hours. No sign of a bear. No trace of her. But then my eyes catch a trail of blood.
I follow it through the trees. That’s when I see it.
A figure slumped near the base of a tree.
I wheel toward it, heart hammering.
It’s her.
Juliette.
Unconscious.
But she’s not alone.
She’s in another man’s arms.
- Writer
