Bound by the Blood Moon

Chapter 7 Hidden Village & Worry

I trekked for another half day after witnessing Mia’s ambush, finally stepping foot into a quiet hidden human village tucked between rolling green hills. Small wooden cottages lined the dirt road, smoke curling gently from every chimney, and humans moved about without a single trace of wolf blood or beast scent hanging in the air. This was the peaceful ordinary life I had dreamed of for years.

I rented a tiny spare room from an elderly widow at the edge of the village, paying her with a pouch of wild silver ore I’d collected as a child in the forest. She never questioned my pale skin or odd cold tolerance, only handing me a thin cotton blanket and a clay bowl for water. For the first time since the blood moon, I let my guard fully drop, no longer bracing myself for capture or accusation at every turn.

Even so, the mate bond’s faint dull ache never faded, thrumming low in my chest night and day. Every time I closed my eyes, Ronan’s pained golden eyes floated in my mind—the way he’d stiffen when the bond pulled at him, the hoarse, tormented murmur he’d spoken beneath the dungeon stairs. I hated him for his unfair judgment, yet my wolf half could not stop fretting over the blood curse eating away at his life.

That night, I sat beside the cottage window, staring at the faint silver moon hanging above the hilltops. My newly awakened lunar magic hummed beneath my skin, a silent reminder that only I could lift his century-old curse. If I stayed hidden here, Ronan would die before the next crimson full moon arrived. If I returned to Stormfang, I would walk straight back into the endless misunderstandings and pain Mia wove for me.

A soft knock tapped at my wooden door long after midnight. I tensed instantly, my glowing silver magic flickering at my fingertips, ready to defend myself against any Stormfang hunter who might track me down. When I pulled the door open, it was an injured young Silverthorn wolf messenger, his cloak torn and shoulder bleeding heavily.

“The Alpha searches every forest valley without rest, Lady Layla. The blood curse is worsening by the hour—he can barely stand through his daily patrols. Mia keeps sending warriors to hunt down all Silverthorn survivors, plotting to seize the wolf throne once Ronan passes away.” He sank to his knees, voice shaky with desperation. “Our pack begs you to come back and expose her crimes before it is too late.”

I stared out the window at the quiet village streets, torn between the calm freedom I craved and the heavy fate I could no longer run from. The mate bond surged with a sharp twinge, and I knew deep down I could not hide away and watch Ronan die alone under the weight of a lie.