Chapter Two
1362 Words
The forest had never felt so endless. Branches clawed at Selene’s arms and tangled in her hair as she stumbled forward, every step a battle against exhaustion. Her lungs burned, each breath cutting like glass, yet the only thing she could hear over the pounding of her heart was the echo of Marcus’s rejection. His words still rang inside her skull, cruel and final, like a blade severing something sacred.
You are nothing to me.
No matter how many times she blinked, the image returned—his cold eyes, the crowd behind him, the way her knees had nearly buckled under the weight of shame.
The earth tilted beneath her feet, her body trembling with weakness. She hadn’t shifted since the ceremony, her wolf silent, buried somewhere deep within as though even she had abandoned her. It was unnatural. Wrong. Wolves didn’t go quiet unless something inside them had shattered.
Selene pressed a hand to her ribs, forcing herself onward. She couldn’t collapse. Not here. Not when she knew others would come. She had seen the look in Marcus’s mother’s eyes as the rejection was spoken—satisfaction, as though she had been waiting for this moment. Selene might have been cast out, but that didn’t mean she was safe. Exiles rarely lived long. Packs didn’t like loose ends.
A sharp c***k behind her snapped her head around. She froze, eyes narrowing into the darkness between the trees.
Silence.
Only the steady drip of water from the leaves and the faint whistle of wind winding through the canopy. But she wasn’t fooled. Someone—or something—was there. Her pulse quickened, but she forced her steps into something quieter, lighter, though every muscle in her body screamed with fatigue. She told herself she was imagining it. She told herself her paranoia was only the result of rejection, that empty hollowness where her bond had been.
And yet… the feeling didn’t leave. It grew.
By the time she reached a small clearing, her skin was crawling with certainty. She wasn’t alone. She pivoted suddenly, her voice hoarse but sharp. “Show yourself.”
For a moment, nothing. Just the oppressive weight of the forest pressing in on her. Then, from the shadows, he emerged.
A tall figure stepped into the dim moonlight. His movements were deliberate, smooth, and predatory in a way that made every instinct in Selene’s body scream danger. Broad shoulders, dark hair damp with mist, eyes like molten steel that seemed to pierce through the distance between them.
Not pack. Not one she recognized. A rogue.
Selene’s breath caught. She had heard stories of rogues—feral wolves who abandoned or were cast out from packs, losing themselves to violence and madness. But this one… there was nothing wild or broken in the way he held himself. He looked more controlled than anyone she’d ever seen, as if every muscle, every breath, was harnessed for a purpose only he knew.
He tilted his head, studying her, and the silence stretched until she felt suffocated by it.
“You’ve been walking in circles for an hour,” he said at last, his voice deep, rough, threaded with something sharp. “Do you plan to bleed out here, or are you waiting for your old pack to finish what they started?”
Her stomach twisted. “How long have you been following me?”
“Long enough.” His lips curled, though it wasn’t quite a smile. More like amusement at her expense.
Selene straightened, though she could feel how unsteady she was. “I don’t need your help.”
His gaze flicked down to her scraped hands, her trembling legs, then back up again. “Yes. That’s obvious.”
Heat flushed her face, part humiliation, part anger. She hated how easily his words cut through her defenses, how quickly he saw the truth she wanted hidden.
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“Maybe I like watching the weak struggle,” he said, his tone unreadable. Then, after a beat, “Or maybe I’m deciding if you’re worth the trouble of saving.”
Her heart skipped. His words shouldn’t have mattered, but something about the way he said saving struck too close.
She forced herself to step back, creating space. “I didn’t ask for saving.”
“No one ever does.”
The way he looked at her—like he could peel back her layers and expose the bleeding center of her soul—made her want to run. But she knew if she did, he’d catch her. There was no mistaking the way he moved, the predatory stillness in him. He wasn’t merely stronger. He was dangerous.
Her instincts told her she should fear him. And yet, a part of her—the broken, abandoned part—whispered something different. Something she refused to acknowledge.
“You’re not from any nearby pack,” she said carefully.
“No.”
“Then what do you want with me?”
He stepped closer, the faint crunch of leaves under his boots loud in the still night. His presence was suffocating, every inch closing the distance between them until the air itself seemed charged, heavy.
“Maybe I want nothing,” he said softly. “Maybe I’m just curious about the girl foolish enough to stumble into rogue territory on her own.”
Her stomach dropped. Rogue territory. She hadn’t realized she’d crossed into it.
“Or…” His gaze narrowed, pinning her in place. “…maybe I already know who you are.”
Her throat went dry. “You don’t.”
He studied her with unnerving patience, and she swore the corner of his mouth twitched, as though he found her denial amusing.
“You carry yourself like a wolf who’s been broken,” he said. “And only one thing breaks a wolf like that.”
Her chest constricted.
“Rejection,” he finished, his voice low, dark, and unflinchingly certain.
The word hit her like a blow. Selene’s hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but the truth hung between them, undeniable.
He saw it all. And she hated that he did.
“What do you want from me?” she asked again, her voice shaking despite her best effort.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer still, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body despite the chill night air. Close enough that her pulse stumbled in her throat.
“Maybe I want to see if you’ll survive the night,” he murmured.
Before she could respond, a low growl rumbled through the trees.
Selene stiffened, her head snapping toward the sound. Shadows shifted, and her breath hitched. She wasn’t imagining it this time. There were more of them. The scent hit her nose a second later—feral, unwashed, edged with blood.
Other rogues.
The man’s expression hardened instantly, sharp and lethal, as though a mask had dropped. Whatever faint amusement had lingered in him was gone.
“They’ve caught your scent,” he said, his tone suddenly colder, more dangerous.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “They’re hunting me?”
“They’re hunting anything that bleeds.” His eyes flicked back to her. “Stay behind me if you want to live.”
Selene opened her mouth, but before she could protest, the first shape lunged from the treeline, eyes glowing with feral madness. The rogue in front of her moved faster than she thought possible. One second he was standing still, the next his hand was clamped around the attacker’s throat, slamming the snarling wolf into the ground with bone-cracking force.
Selene staggered back, her breath torn from her chest. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t just a rogue. He was something more. Something terrifying. The shadows shifted again, more growls erupting from the darkness. He glanced back at her once, his eyes like fire in the gloom.
“This is only the beginning,” he said.
And as the other rogues burst into the clearing, Selene realized with chilling certainty that he was right.
- Writer
