Luna’s Vengeance: A Rejected Mate’s Return

CHAPTER 3 – Colton’s Torment

The chamber was suffocating. Shadows stretched across the walls, long fingers that reached for the man twisting in the bed. Colton’s breath came hard and uneven, chest rising like a storm tide. His hands clenched at the sheets until the fabric tore. In the dream, her voice followed him everywhere.

“Colton…” Savannah’s whisper slid through the darkness, soft as smoke, sharp as a blade.

His wolf slammed against the edges of his control, snarling to be freed. Find her. Claim her. The animal’s growl rattled his skull until pain lanced behind his eyes.

He jerked upright, but the dream didn’t release him. Fire blazed across his chest, hotter, sharper, pulling him toward her as if the scar she bore had wrapped itself around his heart. Sweat trickled down his temples, dampening his dark hair. His throat was dry, raw from the silent cries that had clawed their way out while he slept.

Why now? He hadn’t dreamed of her for years. He had locked her away, or so he thought.

The scar’s flare reached him, a flash of heat that wasn’t his own. He staggered from the bed, gripping the post as his knees buckled. His wolf howled inside him, frantic, violent.

“Enough,” Colton hissed, but the command fell flat, powerless even to his own ears. His wolf wasn’t listening.

He dragged in a breath, the air heavy with pine resin and old smoke from the hearth. The scent should have grounded him. Instead, it mocked him. It smelled like the forest beyond the border, where Savannah had returned, where his blood called to hers.

His body trembled. Rage warred with need, and in the clash he felt himself split, Alpha and beast tearing in opposite directions. He lifted a hand and slammed it into the beam beside his bed. Wood splintered under the strike, fragments falling to the floor like brittle snow. The sound rang through the chamber, sharp enough to shake the silence.

The door burst open.

“Colton!” Travis stood in the doorway, eyes wide, hair mussed from sleep. His Beta had thrown on clothes hastily, boots half laced. “What in hells—” He froze, gaze darting to the cracked beam and then back to his Alpha.

Colton stood in the wreckage of his own strength, chest heaving, sweat plastering his shirt to his skin. He didn’t speak. Words clogged his throat, too dangerous to let loose.

Travis stepped in, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Colton turned away, fists tightening until his knuckles whitened. His silence was answer enough.

Travis muttered a curse and rubbed at his jaw. “You felt her again.”

The words were low, but they cut deep.

Colton’s shoulders shook. His wolf surged, clawing to admit it, to howl it. But Colton ground his teeth, refusing. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” Travis barked a sharp laugh, though no humor lived in it. “You nearly brought the roof down. Don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

Colton spun then, eyes blazing, golden flecks shimmering like embers barely contained. “You think I wanted this? You think I asked to feel her again?” His voice cracked, raw and harsh.

Travis held his ground, but his jaw tightened. “Whether you wanted it or not, the pack will see the cracks. They already watch too closely.”

The reminder hit harder than any strike. Colton’s hand went to the beam again, pressing against the fresh split in the wood. He could hear his wolf in the silence, panting, demanding release. Demanding her.

He whispered her name before he could stop himself. “Savannah.”

Travis heard it. His expression softened for a flicker of a moment, but worry soon hardened it again. “If your brother senses this weakness—”

Colton cut him off with a sharp glare. “Don’t speak of Wyatt.” His voice dropped to a growl, low and dangerous.

But the warning couldn’t erase the truth. Wyatt would smell blood in the water. And the pack could not survive a divided Alpha.

The tension hung heavy between them, thick as the dawn mist that pressed at the shutters. Colton turned back toward the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. Beyond, the forest stretched endlessly, dark and waiting. Somewhere out there, she stirred. He could feel it.

His hand slammed once more into the beam. The wood groaned, cracked deeper, dust spilling down.

This time, Travis didn’t flinch. He only stepped closer, his voice sharp and urgent.

“Colton. Pull yourself together. Or Wyatt will do it for you.”

The words sliced through the air, and in the silence that followed, the chamber seemed to hold its breath.

The war council chamber reeked of tension. Smoke from the iron braziers curled toward the rafters, heavy with sage and cedar. Long tables formed a crescent, crowded with elders and warriors. Maps and stones lay scattered across their surfaces, markers of borders, threats, and long-remembered battles.

Colton stood at the head, his posture rigid though exhaustion shadowed his eyes. He scanned the room, searching for steadiness among his pack. Instead, he found Wyatt.

His younger brother lounged forward in his chair, eyes sharp and restless. When the chatter reached a lull, Wyatt rose, hands slamming flat against the table.

“We cannot ignore what’s happened,” he declared. His voice carried, smooth but edged with fire. “Savannah has returned. The exile is broken. If she’s allowed to remain, we all suffer. You know the curse she drags behind her.”

Murmurs rippled through the chamber.

An elder cleared his throat. “The blood moon brought her back. That cannot be coincidence.”

Wyatt seized on the words. “Exactly. Which is why she must be cast out again—if not destroyed outright. We do not gamble the pack’s future on one woman’s scarred fate.”

Colton’s jaw clenched. The wolf inside him surged, demanding he tear down his brother’s challenge. Yet hesitation weighed him down. He remembered the flare of her scar, the way it seared through him in the night. He remembered her name on his lips.

“She stays,” Colton said at last, his tone hard, though his pulse thundered.

The chamber stilled. Eyes widened. A few warriors leaned closer, whispering.

Wyatt laughed once, sharp and bitter. “You would risk everything? For her?”

Colton’s glare cut across the table. “I said she stays. No one touches her without my order.”

His words rang with command, but the silence that followed didn’t hold obedience—it held doubt. He saw it in their faces, in the way the elders avoided his eyes, in the tightness around Beau’s mouth and the flicker in Clint’s gaze.

Wyatt leaned in, voice low but venomous. “Then you are weaker than I thought, brother.”

The growl that escaped Colton’s chest silenced the chamber. For a heartbeat, the wolf’s gold glowed in his eyes. Wyatt held the stare, unflinching, until Colton forced it back.

The council broke soon after, the elders muttering, chairs scraping against the stone floor. Colton remained still, watching as the room emptied, his brother’s shadow darkening the doorway.

In the hall outside, Wyatt’s voice carried, hushed but not enough to escape Colton’s ears.

He leaned close to Beau and Clint, whispering sharp and fast. “If he won’t act, I will.”

Colton froze, breath caught in his chest. His wolf surged forward, hot with fury.

The forest lay restless as twilight bled into night. Shadows lengthened between the trees, stretching across the leaf-strewn ground like warning hands. Colton pushed through the undergrowth, his breath uneven, his fists clenched to steady the trembling beneath his skin.

Every step forward was a battle. His wolf clawed inside his chest, tearing at the cage he’d tried to keep it in. Go to her. Claim her. The voice was raw, unrelenting, drowning out reason.

Colton gritted his teeth. “Not like this,” he muttered to himself, voice sharp as the branches scratching against his arms. But his feet didn’t stop. The scent of pine gave way to something warmer, sharper—hers. Savannah.

He cursed under his breath, dragging air into his lungs, but it only filled him with more of her.

Far ahead, nestled in a thicket near the clearing, Savannah stiffened. The scar on her shoulder flared, pulsing with heat that bled into her veins. She pressed her palm against it, her breath hitching.

Not again. She’d just sworn to use this scar as a blade against him, and now it betrayed her—calling to him, burning like a beacon in the dark.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning the treeline. “Come out,” she whispered, though no sound carried beyond the frogs and the rustle of leaves.

And still, she knew. He was here.

Colton broke through the last row of pines, his broad frame cutting against the fading light. The pull hit harder, dragging him toward the cabin. His chest heaved, sweat glistening along his jaw, his eyes burning with the gold of the wolf.

Savannah’s lips curled into a cold smile, though her heart betrayed her with its thunder. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

His answer was silence. He took another step, then another, each stride slow, deliberate. The tension stretched taut, humming like a blade between them.

“Stay back,” she warned, the words low, steady, even as the glow beneath her collarbone betrayed the storm inside.

His voice broke the stillness at last, rough and uneven. “I told myself I wouldn’t come.” His gaze locked on her, fierce and unwilling to yield. “But you keep pulling me here.”

She barked a bitter laugh. “Don’t blame me. This is your curse as much as mine.”

The wolf surged in him, demanding he close the gap, but Colton forced his hands into fists, nails biting deep into his palms. The air between them shimmered with heat, anger mixing with something older, heavier.

Neither moved. Neither spoke. Only their eyes held, fire and storm colliding across the clearing.

Savannah’s scar burned brighter. Colton’s chest rose with a growl he couldn’t swallow down.

And still—neither broke.

The sky bled crimson, streaked with the last fire of dusk. The clearing seemed caught between day and night, the air charged as if it knew the weight of what was about to unfold.

Savannah stood rigid, her shoulders squared, her scar glowing faintly through the thin fabric of her blouse. The burn matched the fury simmering in her chest. Across from her, Colton’s chest rose and fell like he’d just run a war. His golden eyes never left her.

She broke the silence first, spitting the words like venom.

“You had a choice, Colton. You could’ve fought for me. Instead, you cut me out like I was nothing.”

He flinched, but his voice came out hard.

“You think I wanted that? You think it didn’t tear me apart?” He stepped closer, his fists trembling. “I had a pack to protect—”

Savannah’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “No. You had pride to protect. Don’t dress it up as duty.”

The words hit him harder than any blade. His jaw flexed, and for a moment, guilt flickered in his eyes—then fury swallowed it whole.

“You don’t understand what it means to carry them all on your shoulders.”

“And you don’t understand what it means to be cast aside by the one person who swore to stand beside me.” Her voice shook now, not with weakness but with the force of restrained rage.

The air between them pulsed, the bond crackling like a live wire. Rage blurred into something more dangerous. Desire.

Colton’s gaze dropped to the glow of her scar, then back to her lips. His wolf roared inside him, demanding he close the space. He took one step forward. Then another.

Savannah’s pulse hammered in her throat. She wanted to shove him back, to tear into him with every wound he’d left her with—but her body betrayed her. Her hand twitched, as if to reach for him.

He saw it. His breath hitched, a low growl rumbling in his chest. For a heartbeat, they leaned toward each other, drawn together by the bond neither could break.

But Savannah jerked back, fire flashing in her eyes. “No. I vowed I’d never bend to you again.”

Colton’s hand shot out, seizing her arm. His grip was firm, desperate, trembling with restraint. “Then tell me why you’re still here,” he rasped, voice low, ragged.

Her scar flared hotter, pain and longing tangled into one unbearable thread. She tried to twist away, but his hold only tightened. Their eyes locked again—war and want colliding in a storm neither could contain.

Then—

A sound broke through. Light, lilting, impossible.

Children’s laughter drifted across the clearing, soft at first, then clearer, echoing between the trees.

Savannah froze, her head snapping toward the woods. Colton’s grip loosened, his gaze darkening with confusion.

No children lived this deep in the forest.

Yet the laughter came again, closer this time.

The clearing fell silent after the sound, both of them frozen, eyes locked not on each other now but on the trees around them. The last threads of sunset bled away, and the shadows stretched long, swallowing the forest in creeping dark.

The laughter came again. Clearer. Closer.

Savannah’s pulse hammered against her ribs. She turned sharply, scanning the line of trees, searching for movement. Nothing stirred. No flutter of fabric, no quick feet darting through the leaves—just that laughter, high and sweet, bouncing between trunks.

Colton’s wolf surged up inside him, a guttural growl spilling from his chest. His eyes flickered gold, scanning, hunting, every muscle taut with alarm.

“That’s not real,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It can’t be.”

Savannah wrapped her arms around her middle, as if holding herself together. The scar at her collarbone burned like fire pressed to her skin, the glow so fierce she swore it lit the darkness. She bit back a cry.

“It’s hurting me,” she whispered.

Colton’s gaze snapped to her, torn between fury and fear. “What is it reacting to?”

But before she could answer, the laughter shifted. It lengthened into something thinner, stretched into a whisper threading through the trees. Words tried to form, but the syllables slipped, like smoke too fragile to catch.

Savannah stumbled back a step, her breath ragged. The forest felt alive—watching, listening, pressing in closer.

From deeper in the shadows, unseen, another presence stilled. Bohdan crouched low, his hand resting on the hilt of the blade strapped to his side. His dark eyes narrowed, every sense straining. He too heard the laughter, but more than that—he felt the unnatural pulse in the air, an ancient wrongness he’d crossed continents trying to escape.

Savannah pressed her hand against her scar, her face tight with pain. The searing light beneath her skin throbbed in time with the echo, as if it belonged to the sound.

“Colton…” Her voice broke, and she shook her head. “This isn’t a child.”

The last note of laughter hung in the air, eerie and thin, and then—silence.

Every bird, every cricket, every stir of the wind seemed to vanish at once.

The clearing held its breath.

Savannah’s whisper cut the darkness like a blade.

“There’s no child here.”