Storming out
841 Words
“You don’t get to do that,” she whispered, unsure whether she meant Kael or fate itself. “You don’t get to choose for me.”
Her wolf snarled in agreement.
She leaned forward, forearms braced against her thighs, breathing hard until the shaking eased. Only then did she push herself upright. Her muscles protested, but she welcomed the pain. It was simple. Honest. Nothing like the mess inside her chest.
Elara stripped off her outer jacket and tossed it aside. The air was cool, sharp against her skin, but she barely noticed. She set her feet shoulder-width apart and lifted her hands, settling into a fighting stance she had learned as a child.
Again.
She moved.
Her body remembered even when her mind felt fractured. Punch. Twist. Kick. Pivot. She imagined an opponent in front of her and attacked with everything she had. Her fists cut through the air. Her feet dug into the ground. Every strike carried anger, grief, humiliation.
She trained until sweat soaked her clothes and her arms burned with exhaustion.
Still she did not stop.
A roar tore out of her throat, raw and unrestrained. It startled birds from the trees and echoed across the river. Her wolf surged forward, demanding release.
Elara dropped to all fours before she could think better of it. Bones shifted. Muscles reformed. The world sharpened.
Her wolf burst free.
Red fur flashed beneath the trees as she sprinted through the forest, faster than she ever had before. The ground blurred beneath her paws. The scent of pine and water filled her senses, cutting through the lingering sting of rejection.
She ran not to escape the pain, but to outrun the weakness threatening to take hold.
When she finally slowed, it was because exhaustion forced her to. She skidded to a stop near the riverbank, chest heaving, fur damp and darkened. The ache in her chest remained, but it no longer ruled her.
She shifted back slowly, the change leaving her trembling and drained. She crouched by the water, dipping her hands into the cold current and splashing her face.
Her reflection stared back at her.
Red hair tangled and wild. Brown eyes bright, not with tears, but with fury and resolve.
“I’m not done,” she said to her reflection. “Not even close.”
Behind her, unseen, Kael stood among the trees.
He had followed her trail without effort. The forest spoke clearly to him, every broken branch and crushed leaf telling the story of her flight. He had kept his distance, resisting every instinct screaming at him to close the gap.
Watching her run had nearly broken his control.
Now he stood still, broad shoulders tense beneath his dark clothing, hands clenched at his sides. His black hair had fallen loose from its tie, strands brushing his face as he watched her by the river.
She was stronger than he remembered.
No, not remembered. Than he had allowed himself to see.
She trained with ferocity, pushing herself without hesitation, without fear of pain or failure. He had expected tears. Collapse. Rage turned outward.
Instead, she had chosen discipline.
That frightened him more than any outburst would have.
When she shifted, his breath caught despite himself. Her wolf was fast. Powerful. Controlled in a way few young wolves ever were. She did not move like someone broken by rejection. She moved like someone being forged.
Kael turned away before she could sense him.
He forced himself to step back into the shadows, to put distance between them. His wolf strained against the leash he kept tight, demanding he go to her, demanding he claim what the bond insisted was his.
Not yet.
Not like this.
Elara finished washing her face and stood, rolling her shoulders. Her body ached, but it was a clean ache. One she understood. She pulled her jacket back on and took a steadying breath.
The pack would be talking now.
She could picture it clearly. The whispers. The looks. The quiet judgment. Some would pity her. Others would assume Kael had seen something in her that confirmed every ugly rumor tied to her father’s name.
Let them.
She squared her shoulders and turned away from the river. She would return on her own terms. She would not hide. She would not beg.
If Kael thought rejection would break her, he had misjudged her entirely.
As she made her way back through the forest, slower now, more deliberate, her thoughts sharpened. Training alone would not be enough. Strength without purpose was just noise.
She needed control and power,1she would earn it.
By the time she reached the edge of pack territory, the sun had dipped lower in the sky. Elara paused, listening to the familiar sounds of home. Wolves moving through the trees. Voices in the distance. Life continuing as if nothing had shattered.
She exhaled slowly.
“This isn’t over,” she murmured.
Somewhere deeper in the forest, Kael stopped walking.
He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tight.
No, he thought. It isn’t.
- Writer
