Chapter 3 – The Stranger
621 Words
Darkness wrapped around Evelyn like a suffocating blanket. She was drifting—somewhere between consciousness and oblivion. The pain in her body was distant, a dull ache compared to the crushing weight in her chest.
Then, a voice.
Low. Steady.
“…She needs rest.”
Something warm pressed against her forehead, and the darkness wavered. Slowly, the fog in her mind began to lift.
Evelyn’s eyes fluttered open.
The first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar ceiling above her—a wooden cabin, dimly lit by flickering lanterns. The scent of burning wood filled the air, mixed with something else.
Something… masculine.
Her body tensed, memories slamming into her all at once. The rogues. The chase. The black wolf.
The man.
Ronan.
She sucked in a sharp breath and tried to sit up, but pain flared in her ribs, forcing her back down.
“Easy,” a deep voice murmured.
Her gaze snapped to the figure sitting beside her.
Ronan.
Even in the dim light, his presence was overwhelming. He was seated in a wooden chair near the bed, arms folded across his chest. His dark hair was slightly damp, and a faint scar ran across his right cheek. His amber eyes, intense and unwavering, studied her carefully.
Evelyn swallowed hard. “Where am I?”
“My cabin,” he replied simply.
Her eyes flickered around the room. It was small but sturdy, built from thick logs. A stone fireplace crackled with warmth, and the scent of herbs lingered in the air.
She glanced down at herself. Her torn, bloodstained clothes had been replaced with a loose cotton shirt and bandages wrapped around her ribs.
Her breath hitched.
Ronan must have—
“I didn’t touch you,” he said flatly, as if reading her mind. “An elder healer did.”
Evelyn exhaled, tension easing slightly. But it didn’t answer the bigger question.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Ronan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “A lone wolf.”
That wasn’t the whole truth. She could feel it.
“No pack?”
His jaw tensed slightly. “Not anymore.”
Evelyn frowned. An Alpha wolf without a pack? That was rare. Wolves needed a pack to survive. The fact that he was here, alone, meant something had happened.
Before she could ask more, Ronan’s gaze sharpened. “Now, my turn.”
Evelyn stiffened.
“Who were those rogues chasing you?”
She hesitated. What could she say? That she was a rejected Luna, cast aside by the most powerful Alpha in the region? That she had run into rogue territory with no plan, no protection, no idea where she was going?
She met Ronan’s eyes and chose her words carefully. “I was… leaving my pack.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Why?”
She clenched the blanket around her, heart pounding. Could she trust him?
His amber eyes studied her, unreadable but patient.
A part of her—a foolish part—wanted to tell him everything. But she wasn’t ready.
Instead, she said, “I had no reason to stay.”
Ronan’s expression darkened slightly, but he didn’t press.
Silence settled between them, the crackling fire the only sound.
Then, he stood. “You need rest.”
Evelyn blinked, surprised by the abruptness. “Wait—”
But he was already moving toward the door. “We’ll talk more later.”
Before she could protest, he was gone, leaving her alone in the quiet warmth of the cabin.
She sank back against the pillows, exhaustion creeping in.
Who was this man? And why had fate led her to him?
One thing was certain—her story wasn’t over.
It was just beginning.
- Writer
