The Boy with the Storm Eyes
1124 Words
Chapter Four:
Keiran's POV
I should've smelled her first.
Should've felt her before I even saw her.
But when it happened...
it was like a punch to the chest.
One minute, I was laughing with my boys, giving Max crap for eating s**t during training —
the next, the world... shifted.
The air bent.
The street cracked open.
Magic rolled over the concrete like a storm.
And there she was.
At first, I thought my mind was screwing with me.
The girl from the vision.
The one I'd seen only once, half-there, half-gone, that night six months ago when the earth shook and my soul had damn near ripped out of my chest.
Silver hair.
Violet eyes.
A body that looked like it had been carved for battle and built for chaos.
And now, right in front of me —
kneeling over Jesse, one of my youngest packmates, silver light pouring from her hands.
Healing him.
Healing him.
I froze.
I didn’t breathe.
None of us moved — except Luke, Jesse’s older brother, who came sprinting around the corner, just in time to see her hands slip away and the wound vanish.
Luke let out a low, warning growl.
Ready to attack.
Ready to protect.
But me?
All I could do was stare.
The second her eyes — terrified, shattered — met mine, it felt like a damn earthquake inside my ribcage.
Mine.
The word slammed into my head without permission.
I didn't even know her name.
I barely knew if she was real.
But every instinct in my blood, every cell in my body screamed one thing:
Mine.
I stepped forward, reaching for her, slow, careful —
the way you'd approach something holy, something you could shatter just by breathing wrong.
"Wait," I whispered, but it was too late.
She bolted.
A flash of silver hair.
A ripple of wild magic.
Gone.
The boys shouted, confused — some chasing, some calling Jesse over to check if he was okay.
I didn’t follow.
I just stood there.
Frozen.
My hands shaking.
Because deep down... I knew.
This wasn’t just a healer.
This wasn’t just some rogue supernatural girl wandering through my territory.
She was the key.
To what, I didn’t know yet.
But I could feel it.
She was my future.
My storm.
My ruin.
And if I didn’t find her again—
I'd never be whole.
I didn't sleep much that night.
Hell, I didn't sleep at all, not really.
But when my eyes finally closed, exhaustion dragging me under —
she found me.
The dream was different from anything I'd ever felt before.
It wasn't blurry, the way dreams usually are.
It was sharp.
Clear.
Too real.
I stood in a field under a violet sky.
Wind tugged at the grass, carrying a faint scent of silver and ash.
And then I saw her.
She stood across from me, barefoot in the grass, her silver hair wild around her shoulders, her violet eyes watching me with suspicion and something almost like fear.
"It's you," I breathed.
She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
Guarded.
Hard.
"Who are you?" she demanded, voice strong, but not unkind.
I stepped forward, slowly, hands raised like I was approaching a wounded animal.
"I've been trying to find you," I said.
"Since the day you disappeared."
Her eyes narrowed.
"How do you know me?"
I shook my head.
"I don't. Not really. I just... I know you're important."
The wind shifted between us, and I caught a trace of her scent —
wildflowers after a storm.
My heart clenched.
"What's your name?" I asked, gently.
She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure if she should tell me.
But then she lifted her chin stubbornly.
"Silver," she said.
The name fit her too well.
Sharp and soft all at once.
"I'm Kieran," I said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Kieran Blackwood."
Her mouth twitched, like she was filing the name away in her mind — but still not trusting me fully.
I took another cautious step closer.
She didn’t move, but her whole body screamed ready to run.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
She shrugged, wary.
"I don't know. I didn’t mean to be."
I nodded.
I could feel the bond humming beneath our feet — a live wire — but she didn’t seem to notice it at all.
She didn’t feel it.
The realization hit me like a cold slap.
She didn’t know.
She didn’t know what she was to me.
I swallowed hard.
"We’re fated," I said, carefully.
She frowned.
"Fated? What does that even mean?"
I smiled, aching a little inside at how innocent she sounded.
"It means... you’re mine," I said simply.
"And I’m yours. It’s a bond made before either of us were even born. Something the world can't break."
She stared at me for a long moment, then shook her head.
"You must be wrong," she said flatly.
"Nobody belongs to anyone. Not like that."
Pain flickered in my chest, sharp and raw.
She didn’t believe it.
She didn’t believe me.
And deep down...
I realized something else, something even more devastating.
Silver wasn't like the other she-wolves I knew.
She wasn’t waiting for a mate to complete her.
She wasn’t raised on stories of bonds and destinies.
She wasn’t looking to be saved.
She was fighting —
for herself.
For her survival.
The dream shifted.
Behind her, for just a heartbeat, I saw something that made my stomach twist.
A wolf.
Her wolf.
Silver fur matted with blood and dirt, eyes burning violet just like hers.
Chained.
Bound.
Held down by magic I couldn't name.
I opened my mouth —
to tell her.
To ask her if she even knew her wolf was trapped.
But the look on her face —
so fierce, so tired, so guarded —
made me stop.
She wasn’t ready to hear it yet.
So I said nothing.
I just memorized every inch of her.
The curve of her jaw.
The way her hands trembled before she tucked them behind her back.
The broken strength in her eyes.
The next morning
I jolted awake at dawn, heart pounding.
The connection still lingered — thin, fragile, like a whisper on the wind.
I pulled my laptop open between classes at school, pretending to take notes, but really...
I was searching.
Looking for anything.
Silver.
Girls with silver hair.
Rogues with healing abilities.
Supernaturals with violet eyes.
Anything.
I had to find her again.
I had to understand who — what — she really was.
Because even if she didn’t believe in fated mates...
I already knew the truth.
She was mine.
And I would wait as long as it took for her to realize it too.
- Writer
