Chapter 4: Wolves Don’t Forgive
664 Words
The forest had once been her sanctuary—now it felt like it was watching her.
Every pine needle underfoot whispered her secrets, and the wind carried her scent like a traitor. Lyra crouched behind a twisted oak, one arm wrapped protectively around Elior, the other steadying her breath. Her senses stretched outward, every snap of a twig or rustle in the canopy triggering old instincts.
He was close.
She could feel Kael’s energy like a storm brewing behind the trees. The air was thick with it—earth and smoke, dominance and pain. She hadn’t seen him again since that encounter earlier, but the memory of his voice still clung to her skin.
“Mom,” Elior whispered, his voice trembling against her side. “Why are we hiding again?”
“Because not everyone who wears a familiar face is safe,” she murmured, brushing his hair back with a trembling hand. “Not now.”
Elior pressed his face deeper into her cloak. He didn’t ask another question.
Then—crack.
A branch snapped underfoot, not far off.
Her heart leaped. No time.
She bolted, clutching Elior tightly against her chest, weaving through the trees like a shadow. Branches scraped her face, and brambles tore at her clothes, but she didn’t stop. Her wolf raged beneath the surface, begging to be let out, to protect her pup—but she couldn’t shift. Not while carrying him.
She heard the other footfalls behind her—strong, controlled, too swift to be a scout.
Kael.
She twisted through a thicket and veered toward the ridge path—only to come skidding to a halt.
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Dark, towering, immovable.
Kael Stormborn.
He didn’t speak at first. He only looked at her, the way one might look at a ghost. His silver eyes burned beneath his dark brows, his body tense with restrained fury.
“Lyra,” he said, at last, his voice a low rumble of thunder. No threat. No softness either.
She didn’t flinch. Her chin lifted in defiance, even though her breath caught in her throat. She stepped back, placing her body fully between him and Elior.
“I’m not here to beg,” she said coldly. “We’ll be gone before nightfall.”
Kael’s gaze dropped to the child in her arms. “That’s not your choice to make anymore.”
“You lost your right to decide anything for me the moment you let them banish me,” she snapped.
His expression cracked, barely. His jaw flexed.
“You broke the pack’s laws,” he said, voice tight.
“I broke nothing,” she whispered. “You broke me.”
The words lingered in the space between them, heavy with unspoken grief.
Kael took a step forward. Lyra’s hand tensed against Elior’s back.
“Who is the boy?” he asked, softer now.
Lyra shook her head. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
Kael’s nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply—too sharply.
His eyes widened. “He smells like me.”
It was as if the words ripped through her armor. For a moment, she faltered.
“I said don’t,” she whispered. Her voice cracked. “Just… don’t.”
Kael’s voice dropped to a growl. “You think you can just run back in after all these years? With a secret like this?”
Lyra turned to go.
He didn’t stop her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he called out. “I would have protected him.”
She paused. “You would have let the Elders decide if he lived.”
The air stilled.
Then she vanished into the trees again, not looking back.
Behind her, Kael stood alone in the clearing, the echo of her accusation ringing louder than any howl.
He didn’t chase her. Not because he didn’t want to—but because the past had finally caught up to him.
And wolves don’t forget.
- Writer
