Chapter 4 – A Wolf Without a Pack
670 Words
Morning came slowly, the golden light filtering through the wooden cabin’s small window. Evelyn stirred, her body aching from the previous night’s ordeal. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was—until she caught the scent of burning wood and something… else.
Something male.
Then, it all came rushing back.
The rogues. The chase. Ronan.
Her fingers instinctively brushed against the bandages wrapped around her ribs. The pain was still there, but it had dulled overnight. Someone—Ronan’s healer, most likely—had treated her wounds well.
But why?
She forced herself to sit up, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. The cabin was quiet, but the scent of freshly brewed tea drifted from the other room.
Evelyn swung her legs over the side of the bed, hissing at the soreness in her muscles. Ignoring the discomfort, she stood and made her way to the cabin door, pushing it open.
The sight before her made her pause.
Ronan stood near the fireplace, pouring tea into two wooden cups. His back was to her, but even from this angle, his strength was undeniable. He was shirtless, his broad shoulders and muscular frame littered with faint scars—proof of battles fought and won.
Her gaze trailed lower before she caught herself and looked away.
Focus, Evelyn.
As if sensing her presence, Ronan turned. His amber eyes flickered over her, assessing. “You’re awake.”
She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way his voice sent an odd shiver down her spine. “Where exactly is this place?”
He handed her a cup of tea before answering. “Deep in the neutral lands. No pack territory for miles.”
She frowned. “So you really are a lone wolf.”
Ronan took a slow sip of his tea, his expression unreadable. “Something like that.”
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. He was hiding something, but she had no energy to push him for answers. Not when she had questions of her own.
“What do you plan to do with me?” she asked bluntly.
Ronan raised a brow, amused. “I saved your life. You think I have some hidden agenda?”
She hesitated. “Most lone wolves don’t help strangers.”
His lips twitched in something close to a smirk. “Most pack wolves don’t wander into rogue-infested lands alone.”
She exhaled sharply, looking away. He had a point.
Silence stretched between them before Ronan spoke again, his tone quieter this time. “Why were they after you?”
Evelyn’s grip tightened around the cup.
She could still hear Damien’s voice in her head, cold and final. I reject you. You are not fit to be my Luna.
She had spent her whole life preparing to stand beside her mate, only to be tossed aside like she meant nothing. And now? Now she was running, lost in unfamiliar lands with a stranger who didn’t belong to any pack.
“I left my pack,” she said finally, choosing her words carefully.
Ronan studied her, his expression unreadable. “Was that your choice?”
She swallowed. “It was the only choice I had.”
Something flickered in his amber eyes, but he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded toward the plate of food on the small wooden table. “Eat.”
Evelyn hesitated before sitting down, her hunger outweighing her pride. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and her body needed the strength.
As she picked at the food, Ronan leaned against the fireplace, watching her.
“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
He shrugged. “You’re the first pack wolf I’ve seen out here in a long time.”
“Not surprising,” she muttered. “Most wouldn’t dare step outside their territories.”
“Yet here you are.”
She met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them.
He was right. She shouldn’t be here.
But maybe… just maybe, fate had led her to him for a reason.
She just didn’t know what yet.
- Writer
