Chapter Six – Shadows of the Past
947 Words
The days that followed felt heavier than usual.
Elara tried to bury herself in work—mixing herbs, treating fevers, stitching wounds—but nothing silenced the feeling of eyes always on her. Wherever she turned, whispers followed.
“She’s not fit for him.”
“She was thrown away once. Why would a king want her?”
“An Omega like her will only shame the pack.”
The words cut like knives. Elara kept her face still, her steps steady, but inside her chest something twisted. She had heard it all before. Years ago. When her world had broken the first time.
Back then, she had believed in the mate bond. She had dreamed of it, prayed for it, built her hopes on it. Until the day it came true—only to be ripped from her in front of everyone.
She shook her head, trying to focus as she tied a clean bandage around a young soldier’s arm. But the memory clung to her like a shadow.
By evening, she walked home from the infirmary with her basket of herbs pressed close. The path to her cottage was quiet, lined with pine trees, the air cool against her skin. She told herself it would be a peaceful night.
She was wrong.
A figure waited near her door. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Familiar in a way that made her blood run cold.
Her steps faltered.
“Lysander…” she whispered.
The wolf who had once been her mate turned, his dark eyes locking on hers. His face was sharper now, older, but the same smug curve touched his lips.
“Elara,” he said softly, as though her name still belonged to him.
Her heart clenched, but she steadied her voice. “What are you doing here?”
Lysander took a step closer. “I heard rumors. That the Alpha King has taken an interest in you. I had to see for myself.”
Her grip on the basket tightened. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He smirked. “Why not? Once, you were mine.”
The words burned. Memories rose, unbidden—standing in front of the pack, her wolf trembling with joy at the bond’s pull. Lysander meeting her eyes… and then rejecting her. Publicly. Cruelly.
I don’t want a weak Omega.
Her wolf had wailed inside her that day. And Elara had never forgotten it.
“I was never yours,” she snapped now, voice cold. “You made that clear.”
A low growl rumbled behind them.
Elara froze. She knew that sound already.
Turning slowly, she found Kaelen standing at the edge of the trees, his golden eyes glowing, his posture radiating danger. He had been watching. Listening.
Lysander stiffened but lifted his chin. “Your Highness,” he said mockingly, bowing his head just enough to feign respect. “I didn’t know you lowered yourself to speak with discarded wolves.”
Elara’s heart stopped.
Kaelen’s eyes darkened, his jaw tight. He stepped forward until he was between them, his presence blocking Lysander from her view.
“Careful,” Kaelen growled, his voice deep, carrying power that made the trees seem to bend. “You’re speaking about my claimed one.”
The words echoed like thunder.
Elara’s breath caught. Claimed one? Her stomach twisted, her heart racing too fast.
Lysander’s smirk faltered. He glanced between them, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “This Omega? You’re joking.”
Kaelen’s golden gaze narrowed. “Do I look like a man who jokes?”
Silence. The air itself seemed to crackle.
Lysander’s mouth opened, but no words came. For the first time, Elara saw him falter. Then, with a bitter curse, he spun and stalked into the shadows of the trees.
The silence he left behind was thick and heavy.
Elara’s pulse hammered in her ears. “Why did you say that?” she whispered, staring at Kaelen’s back.
He turned slowly, his eyes softer now but no less intense. “Because it’s true,” he said simply.
Her throat tightened. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he replied. “I know you’re stronger than they’ll ever admit. I know you keep fighting when the world has done nothing but hurt you. I know your wolf calls to mine, no matter how much you try to silence it.”
Her basket slipped from her hand, herbs spilling across the dirt. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head. “No. Stop. You can’t just come into my life and—”
Kaelen closed the space between them, his hand gently catching her chin, lifting her face to meet his gaze. His touch was firm, but not unkind.
“I can,” he said softly. “And I will.”
Elara’s chest rose and fell rapidly. She wanted to push him away. She wanted to scream. But her wolf… her wolf leaned into his warmth, aching for more.
Tears stung her eyes as she whispered, “You don’t understand. Being claimed—it destroyed me once. I won’t let it happen again.”
Kaelen’s gaze softened. His thumb brushed lightly against her jaw. “Then let me prove to you that I’m not him.”
Her breath shuddered.
She hated how much she wanted to believe him.
That night, Elara lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her cottage. The shadows danced across the wood, and she couldn’t stop hearing Kaelen’s voice in her head.
My claimed one.
Her wolf whined restlessly, torn between fear and longing.
And Elara knew, no matter how much she resisted, her life would never return to the quiet she once fought to protect.
- Writer
