The Messenger

Red Thread

The bell rang, sharp and merciless, slicing through the fragile moment between them.

Lori flinched, then cursed softly under her breath. “Damn it.”

Iva wiped her cheeks quickly, forcing herself to inhale, to straighten her spine. “We’ll talk later,” she said quietly. “I promise.”

Lori searched her face, reluctant to let it go, but nodded. “Later,” she agreed. “Don’t disappear on me.”

“I won’t,” Iva replied, though she wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

They walked back toward the school together, shoulders brushing, silent but united. Still, the second half of the day passed no better than the first. If anything, it felt worse. Every class dragged on endlessly, every whispered laugh felt louder, every glance heavier.

By the final bell, Iva felt hollowed out.

Mentally exhausted.

Physically drained.

Emotionally scraped raw.

When school ended, she didn’t even consider taking the shuttle bus. The thought of being trapped in that metal box with mocking eyes and cruel whispers made her stomach churn.

Instead, she turned away from the parking area and headed toward the forest.

The shortcut.

It was longer, but quieter. And right now, she needed quiet more than speed.

The forest welcomed her with familiar shadows and the scent of damp earth. Leaves crunched softly beneath her feet as she walked, her thoughts tangled and heavy. Fifteen minutes passed in silence, broken only by the sound of her own breathing.

Then she heard it.

A low sound.

A moan.

Iva slowed.

Another sound followed—breathless, strained, unmistakably intimate.

Her stomach dropped.

Her newly awakened wolf senses flared instinctively, sharpening her hearing, amplifying every detail. The sounds grew clearer with each step she took, and dread curled tightly in her chest as realization dawned.

She knew what she was about to see.

“Great… just great! This is the last thing I need to witness today.” she moaned under her lips slowly.

Still, nothing prepared her for it.

Ella was on her knees beneath one of the thick oak trees, her hands gripping Nick’s thighs, her mouth pleasuring him.

Iva stopped short.

The world seemed to tilt violently.

A sharp, stabbing pain tore through her chest, stealing the air from her lungs. Her vision blurred, not from surprise, but from the sudden resurgence of feelings she had buried and trampled and sworn she would never acknowledge again.

She had loved him.

No matter how cruel he had been.

No matter how badly he had humiliated her.

Seeing him like this felt like reopening a wound that had never truly healed.

She took a step back.

A twig snapped beneath her foot.

Nick stiffened.

His head turned sharply, eyes locking onto hers instantly.

Iva’s heart slammed against her ribs.

For a split second, she thought he would curse. Or yell. Or chase her away.

Instead, he grinned?

Slow.

Cruel.

Satisfied…

As if her pain amused him.

He started to push himself in Ella’s mouth. He grabbed her hair with a strong grip as his movements became faster and faster.

“Yeah… just like this… take it all…” he moaned, as he looked at Iva with a wicked expression. “Suck it all, little slut.”

Iva froze, panic and pain flashing across her face.

Because at that time, something else was happening.

Something … impossible.

From Nick’s chest, right where his heart should be, something shimmered into existence.

A thin, glowing thread.

Red.

Deep crimson, like fresh blood under moonlight.

It stretched outward, pulsing softly, moving with deliberate slowness—straight toward her.

Iva’s breath caught painfully.

“What the hell is this…” she thought, her core shaking.

But no one else reacted.

Nick didn’t notice.

Ella didn’t notice.

Only Iva could see it.

The thread reached her.

The moment it touched her chest, a violent tingling exploded through her body, sharp and overwhelming. Her lungs seized as if the air had been ripped from them, her knees threatening to buckle.

She gasped, clutching at her chest.

The thread sank into her, connecting them.

Her vision swam.

Her heartbeat thundered.

Panic surged.

“No—no—no,” she whispered frantically, backing away. “This isn’t real… I am hallucinating.”

She turned abruptly and ran, leaving behind a laughing Nick.

Branches whipped against her arms as she fled deeper into the forest, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The tingling followed her, burning under her skin, pulsing in time with her heart.

What is happening? she screamed inside her mind. What is this?

Her wolf, Avalon, surged forward, no longer timid, no longer uncertain.

Avalon’s voice rang clear and undeniable.

We just met our fated mate.

Iva stumbled.

Her foot caught on a root, and she barely managed to stay upright as the words slammed into her like a physical blow.

“What?!” she gasped aloud. “What do you mean—what?! Fated? But it is impossible!”

But Avalon didn’t repeat herself.

Because she didn’t need to.

The red thread pulsed once more.

And the truth settled in her bones, cold and terrifying.

Nick.

Her tormentor.

Her humiliation.

Her heartbreak.

Was her fated mate.

And nothing in the world was more cruel than fate itself.

But how did she recognised him?

--

Her hands shook violently as she pressed them to her chest, right where the red thread had vanished into her skin.

Her heart was racing—too fast, too loud.

“Avalon,” she gasped, voice cracking. “Tell me what’s happening. Now.”

Silence stretched for half a heartbeat.

Then her wolf stirred, no longer timid or quiet.

You saw the bond, Avalon said softly.

Iva let out a broken laugh that bordered on hysteria. “Don’t do that. Don’t speak in riddles. I don’t want softness—I want answers.” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “How could he be my fated mate? How do wolves even know—how do you know? We lost the ability to recognise our fated mates!”

Avalon’s presence shifted, deeper now, ancient in a way that sent chills down Iva’s spine.

“Fated mates are not recognized by sight,” Avalon began. “Not by desire. Not by kindness. Not even by love.”

Iva clenched her fists. “Then by what?”

“By truth,” Avalon replied. “By resonance of souls. By the Goddess herself.”

Iva shook her head fiercely. “No. No, this is wrong. The Moon Goddess wouldn’t do this to me. She wouldn’t bind me to someone who despises me.”

Avalon hesitated.

That hesitation was worse than any answer.

“Avalon,” Iva whispered, dread pooling in her stomach. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Her wolf inhaled slowly—if a wolf could inhale inside a soul.

“You were able to see the bond because you were meant to,” Avalon said.

Iva froze.

“What do you mean… meant to?”

Avalon’s voice lowered, carrying a weight that pressed against Iva’s chest like a stormcloud ready to break.

“Not all wolves can see the red thread,” she said. “Not even alphas. Not even kings or Lycans.”

Iva’s breath came shallow. “Then who can?”

Avalon turned fully toward her within the mindscape, eyes glowing softly, filled not with fear—but awe.

“Messengers.”

The word echoed.

Messenger.

Iva laughed weakly. “That’s—no. That’s impossible. Messengers are myths… Legends. Powerful creatures… the chosen ones.”

“It is possible,” Avalon replied.

Iva stood abruptly, pacing in tight circles, fingers threading through her hair. “You’re saying I’m some divine mistake now? First a runt wolf, then rejected by my pack, now this?” Her voice rose, fractured. “I can’t even survive my own family and you expect me to believe I’m chosen for something sacred?”

Avalon didn’t flinch.

“The Moon Goddess does not choose the loudest,” she said gently. “Nor the strongest. Nor the most admired.”

Iva stopped.

“She chooses the ones who remain pure when the world tries to break them.”

Iva’s knees weakened.

Memories flooded her, pushed by her wolf from the corners of her mind—years of training, humiliation, silence. Accepting Avalon without question. Choosing loyalty over pride. Refusing to reject her wolf even when it cost her everything.

Avalon stepped closer inside her soul.

“When you accepted me fully,” she continued, “without resentment, without demand, without anger toward the Goddess… she heard you.”

Iva’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Heard… me?”

“Yes.”

A pressure bloomed in Iva’s chest—warm, terrifying.

“This is one of the gifts she was mentioning. You are the next Messenger,” Avalon said. “A bridge between fate and free will. A bearer of truth. A seer of bonds.”

Iva staggered back as if struck.

“No,” she whispered. “No—this can’t be real. Messengers are revered. Protected. They don’t—” her voice broke, “—they don’t get thrown away. They don’t get sold to barbaric packs. They don’t get mocked.”

Avalon’s gaze softened painfully.

“The Goddess finds the worthy among the wounded.”

Tears spilled freely now.

“So my reward,” Iva choked, “is seeing the bond that will destroy me? Knowing that my fated mate is someone who looks at me with cruelty?”

Avalon’s voice trembled for the first time.

“Being a Messenger does not mean your path will be kind,” she said. “It means your heart is strong enough to survive it.”

Iva sank to her knees, palms pressed into the forest floor as sobs wracked her body.

“I don’t want this,” she cried. “I didn’t ask for gifts. I just wanted to belong. I just wanted to be enough.”

Avalon wrapped around her soul like a shield.

“You were enough long before the Goddess noticed you,” she whispered. “And now… the world will have to.”

And fate—cruel, patient, unstoppable—tightened its grip.