CHAPTER 9 — THE WEIGHT OF A KILL
919 Words
Kael reached her side first, snow crunching under his bare feet as he moved with a mixture of urgency and restraint—as if afraid she might break apart if he touched her too suddenly.
Amara stood frozen, staring at the rogue’s lifeless body. Its eyes, once vicious and blood-red, were now dull like extinguished embers. A faint wisp of smoke rose from its fur, as though whatever had killed it had burned from the inside out.
Her throat tightened.
“I didn’t mean to… Kael, I didn’t do anything.”
Kael gently took her glowing wrist, lifting her hand toward him. The silver sigil pulsed once—slow, steady, almost like a heartbeat.
“You did,” he said softly. “And you didn’t need to try. Moonbearer power answers to instinct.”
“But I didn’t even think anything!” she cried. “I was just scared.”
He cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks as snowflakes melted against her skin.
“Fear is the strongest instinct of all.”
Her breath trembled. She leaned into him without realizing it, desperate for something solid, something safe. Kael was warm—too warm—but she welcomed it, grounding herself in his heat.
“Amara,” he murmured, “you didn’t kill the rogue by choice. Your power reacted to protect you. That’s what Moonbearers are created for.”
“Created?” she whispered. “Not born?”
Kael hesitated. A shadow crossed his expression.
“Both… and neither,” he said cryptically. “We’ll talk when you’re safe. When you’ve rested. You’ve had more than enough for one night.”
A branch cracked in the distance. Birds burst from a nearby tree. Something large scurried away through the brush.
Kael instantly shifted his body to shield hers.
“This place is compromised,” he said. “More rogues might come. Or worse—someone might be tracking that stranger from earlier.”
He lifted his gaze to hers.
“I need to take you to the pack house. Tonight.”
Amara tensed. “Your… home?”
“Yes,” Kael said firmly. “It’s the only place I can keep you safe.”
Her stomach tightened. She barely knew this man—this wolf—yet her life was suddenly tied to his in ways she didn’t fully understand. The mate bond thrummed faintly between them, tugging her toward him with invisible threads.
She shook her head. “What about my apartment? My things?”
“We’ll return for them later,” Kael said. “But I won’t risk you staying there again, not with what happened tonight.”
His eyes softened. “Your life comes first.”
Something in the sincerity of his voice made her chest ache.
Then Kael knelt beside the rogue’s body, sniffing the air.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Checking the scent,” he said. “Rogues don’t travel alone. Someone sent it.”
“Sent it?” Amara’s voice rose in panic. “You’re saying someone tried to kill me?”
Kael stood, his posture rigid, jaw clenched. “I’m saying someone knows who you are—and wants you gone before your power grows.”
Her blood ran cold.
He stepped toward her again. “We need to move.”
Still trembling, Amara nodded. Kael offered his hand; she took it without thinking, and he squeezed gently as if promising she wouldn’t fall.
They continued through the forest, Kael leading her quickly but carefully. Every rustle made him tense. Every sudden breeze made him glance behind them.
When they reached a steep slope, Kael bent slightly.
“Hold on.”
“What?”
“I’m carrying you.” He scooped her up before she could protest. “You’re exhausted. And it’s faster.”
Her breath caught as she found herself pressed against his chest. He smelled like pine and storm winds—intoxicating, warm, grounding.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as his stride became faster, more fluid, more wolf-like.
Within minutes they emerged from the forest onto a ridge overlooking a vast valley blanketed in snow. On the far side, nestled against the mountain, stood a large structure of timber and stone.
Lights glowed warmly through wide windows.
Homey. Strong. Ancient.
“The pack house,” Kael said. “You’ll be safe there.”
But as they approached, Amara noticed movement—men and women gathered at the entrance, watching Kael approach with sharp curiosity.
Some dropped to their knees.
Some bowed their heads.
Some whispered to one another as their eyes darted to the glowing mark on Amara’s hand, which refused to fully fade.
Kael stiffened, tightening his hold on her.
A tall woman with braids stepped forward. Her eyes flicked to Kael, then to Amara.
“She carries the mark,” the woman said quietly. “The prophecy lives.”
The crowd murmured.
Kael’s jaw tensed. “Enough. Clear a path.”
Instant silence. The pack members stepped aside immediately.
Amara clung to him, feeling suddenly exposed—as though every gaze was a weight on her skin.
Kael leaned down, his mouth brushing her ear.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “These are my people. And now… they will become yours.”
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding.
He carried her past the crowd and into the pack house, toward a world she was not prepared for.
A world waiting for its Moonbearer.
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