When Night Hunts Him
1255 Words
Mira floated in it for what felt like hours — maybe days — drifting between memory and nothingness. Sometimes she felt the sting of Rowan’s rejection slicing through her chest again; sometimes she heard the whisper of that strange, ancient voice calling her by a name she didn’t understand.
Moonsplitter…
Every time that name echoed through her mind, the darkness trembled.
Then a sharper sensation pierced the fog: cold fingers brushing her forehead, lifting her limp hand, checking her pulse.
“Mira.” A familiar voice — female, trembling. “Sweetheart, please. Wake up.”
Her mother.
Mira forced her eyes open.
She blinked slowly until the blurry shapes around her sharpened into her mother’s worried face, her grey hair pulled into a messy bun, lines of fear etched deeper into her delicate features.
“Mom?” Mira whispered, voice hoarse.
Her mother’s breath hitched. “Thank the Goddess. You scared me half to death.” She cupped Mira’s cheeks and brushed away the dried tear tracks she hadn’t felt.
Mira pushed herself upright, wincing as her chest flared with pain. Not physical pain — something deeper. Something spiritual, raw, wounded.
Her mother held her shoulders. “Slowly. The rejection hit you harder than most.”
Most.
The word tasted like ash.
“Mira…” her mother whispered carefully, “do you remember what happened?”
Memory slammed into her — Rowan, the bond, the rejection, the silver tether ripping her apart.
Her throat tightened. “He didn’t want me.”
Her mother’s eyes darkened. “It was never about wanting.” She glanced toward the small healer’s hut door, making sure no one was listening. “The Alpha… he rejected you too quickly. Too violently. The bond barely had time to settle.”
Mira swallowed. “I shouldn’t have hoped.”
“No.” Her mother touched Mira’s chin gently. “You should have. The Goddess does not make mistakes.”
Mira looked away. “Rowan thinks she does.”
Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Rowan Blackthorn thinks a lot of things the Goddess hasn’t approved.”
A sudden, low growl carried through the trees. Mira stiffened.
“What was that?”
Her mother didn’t answer. Instead she stood slowly, her movements too deliberate. Carefully controlled.
“Mom?”
Another growl — closer this time.
Mira’s pulse spiked.
Her mother whispered, “Don’t move.”
Footsteps pounded against the earth outside — heavy, frantic, uneven. Something slammed into the hut wall, hard enough to shake the wooden frame. Mira’s heart lurched.
Her mother grabbed a silver-tipped dagger hidden beside the herbs.
“Mom! What’s happening?”
Her mother motioned for silence.
The door rattled as another growl tore through the night — deeper this time, unhinged, feral.
Then—
“Mira.”
The voice wasn’t human.
Her breath caught.
“Mira…”
A strained, broken whisper.
“Open… the door.”
Her mother paled. “No. Absolutely not.”
But Mira knew that voice.
Her blood turned to ice.
“Rowan?”
Her mother hissed, “You do not open that door!”
Another violent thud slammed into the wood. The boards cracked. The dagger in her mother’s hand trembled—not with fear, but with the certainty that whatever was outside wasn’t safe.
“Mira…”
The voice strained with agony.
“I need… to see you.”
Her mother stepped in front of her. “Rowan Blackthorn, if you break into this hut—”
He snarled, clawing at the door, voice slipping into wolfish growls. “Let. Me. In.”
Mira’s heart hammered.
Why was he here?
How did he know she had awakened?
Why did he sound like he was suffering?
Her mother steadied her breathing. “His wolf is unstable. He’s losing control.”
Mira pushed herself off the cot. “Because of the rejection?”
“Yes,” her mother said tightly. “And because he tried to sever a bond that wasn’t meant to be severed.”
The hut shuddered again.
Rowan groaned. “Mira, please—”
Mira gasped softly. Rowan Blackthorn never said please.
Her mother raised the dagger. “If he shifts fully, I’ll have to—”
The door shattered.
Rowan stumbled inside.
Half-shifted.
Half-wolf.
Half-man.
His chest heaved, skin gleaming with sweat. His eyes burned molten gold. Claws extended from shaking fingers. His canines had sharpened, lips pulled back as he fought the shift.
He looked feral.
Unhinged.
Broken.
And he was staring straight at her.
“Mira.” His voice was ragged. “I can’t—” He clutched his chest, eyes wild. “I can’t stay away.”
Her mother shoved Mira behind her. “Get out, Alpha.”
He growled, low and dangerous. “You don’t command me, healer.”
“Tonight,” her mother snapped, “someone has to.”
His gaze snapped back to Mira. “Why does it hurt like this?” His voice cracked — actually cracked — like a man begging the world to explain its cruelty. “Why can’t I breathe?”
Mira’s heart twisted painfully.
Her mother answered instead. “Because rejecting your mate doesn’t break the bond. It only breaks you.”
Rowan staggered forward. Mira instinctively stepped back.
His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “Please. Let me see you.”
Mira whispered, “Why are you here?”
His throat bobbed. “I… don’t know.”
Her mother muttered, “Of course you don’t.”
Rowan ignored her, gaze locked onto Mira like she was the only thing anchoring him to sanity.
“I felt you wake,” he said softly. “Everything inside me—” His hand fisted against his chest. “—dragged me here.”
Mira shivered. “The bond?”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “There is no bond.”
But his eyes glowed brighter, betraying him.
Her mother stepped between them. “You rejected her. Now leave her alone.”
Rowan snarled. “I told you—”
His body jerked violently. He fell to one knee, claws dragging across the dirt floor. He was losing the fight with his wolf.
Mira’s fear dissolved.
He wasn’t here to hurt her.
His wolf was here because it needed her.
“Rowan…” she whispered.
He lifted his head, sweat dripping down his temples. “Don’t—say my name.”
“It calms you.”
She stepped closer.
“It destroys me.”
He lowered his gaze, breath hitching.
Silence stretched between them — tense, sharp, fragile.
Finally, Rowan whispered, “I shouldn’t be here.”
“But you are.”
His eyes flicked up to hers, wild and anguished. “If I stay, I will hurt you.”
“Then leave.”
He didn’t move.
Mira realized with a cold, breathtaking clarity:
He couldn’t leave. Not tonight. Not from her.
Her mother whispered harshly, “Get away from my daughter.”
But Rowan stayed on his knees, hand gripping the floor, body trembling from the effort of not lunging toward Mira.
He looked more beast than man —
—but she had never seen anyone look so helpless.
“Mira…” Rowan’s voice broke entirely. “What did you do to me?”
The wind whipped through the broken door.
The red moon glowed brighter.
And the ancient whisper returned — curling around her like prophecy.
Moonsplitter…
Mira shivered.
She had no idea what she was becoming.
But Rowan could feel it.
And his wolf was terrified.
- Writer
