3- Death in the moonlight
1289 Words
“What?”
“Our future.”
He glanced at me, golden eyes flickering. “You really want to talk about this now?”
“Yes.” I gripped his hand tighter. “I want to remember what we’re running toward… not what we’re running from.”
His lips pressed together, then softened. “Alright.”
He pulled me closer as we walked, his voice quieter now, like a secret between us.
“We’ll find a small village, somewhere deep in the mountains. Just us.”
I smiled. “No pack?”
“No pack,” he promised. “No alphas, no politics. Just a quiet life.”
I imagined it, waking up in his arms every morning, no expectations, no weight of duty crushing me. Just love.
I exhaled. “And then?”
His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Then we build a home. A little cottage with a big garden.”
I closed my eyes for a second, feeling it, holding onto it. “And maybe… a family?”
His steps faltered. Just for a second.
Then his grip on me tightened. “Yeah,” he murmured. “A family.”
The breath in my lungs felt lighter, my heart steadier.
We could do this.
We just had to keep running.
I grinned. “I love you Ciaran.” I said looking again him.
He was about to say something, when the first arrow sliced through the air.
I gasped.
Ciaran yanked me down, our bodies crashing against the dirt. Another arrow buried itself into the tree behind us, the impact shaking the trunk.
No.
No, no, no.
They had found us.
Ciaran pushed up on his elbows, eyes scanning the darkness. “Lena, stay low.”
I nodded, pressing myself against the earth, barely breathing.
Silence.
Then—
The next arrow flew.
It didn’t miss.
A sickening sound tore through the night. A sharp inhale. A staggered breath.
I turned.
Ciaran was still on his knees.
His head was tilted forward slightly, his body completely still.
My gaze moved up.
And then I saw it.
The silver arrow was lodged deep straight through his skull, in between his eyes. Eyes that looked at me with love. With care.
Now looked dead.
Time stopped.
A shaky breath left his lips, his fingers twitching like he was trying to reach for me.
Then his body swayed.
Collapsed.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
I stared, unblinking, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it hurt.
His golden eyes, once so full of life, were vacant.
Gone.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
“Ciaran…” My lips trembled as I moved forward, “Babe… Um… please… um… oh my God.”
I crawled toward him, my hands sinking into the dirt, fingers trembling so badly I could barely move. My breath came in short, sharp gasps, my chest tight, my stomach twisting into something unbearable.
He lay still. Too still.
The arrow…
It was buried deep, straight through his forehead, blood pooling beneath him, dark and thick.
I reached for it.
For him.
My fingers brushed the silver shaft, then moved to his cheek, smearing the warmth of his blood across his skin.
His face…
His beautiful, stupid, perfect face…
It was still warm.
I cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over the corner of his lips. His golden eyes were open, staring at nothing.
“Ciaran…” My voice cracked, breaking into pieces.
He…he was dead.
“Ahhhhhhh!!!”
The scream ripped from my throat, raw, broken, desperate.
Pain.
Agony.
My body trembled as I leaned over him, pressing my forehead against his, my tears falling onto his skin.
“Please, please, please…” I sobbed, rocking slightly, my fingers threading into his hair. “Wake up, babe… wake up.”
Nothing.
No breath.
No heartbeat.
He was gone.
He couldn't be.
“No!! Don't leave me!!! Don't leave me please. This is all my fault, come back please. I’m sorry.”
My voice cracked, barely a whisper.
A cold hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I flinched, turning—only to meet the ruthless eyes of my father’s warriors.
The grief in my chest twisted into something sharp, something raw.
I lashed out, fists flying, but they caught me easily.
“Get off me!” I shrieked, thrashing against them.
A hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. Pain exploded down my scalp.
“Stupid girl,” one of them muttered.
I spat in his face.
His grip tightened. A fist slammed into my stomach.
I choked, my body folding in on itself. The world blurred at the edges, nausea curling in my gut.
Another hit.
Then another.
I collapsed to my knees, my breath coming in sharp, wheezing gasps.
I barely noticed the silver chains clamping around my wrists until the burn started.
Agony licked up my arms, sharp and relentless. I hissed through clenched teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of screaming.
The scent of burning flesh filled the air, and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out.
Laughter echoed around me.
A boot kicked dirt into my face, and I coughed, my body too weak to fight back.
"The Shadowfangs will show you that dominance gets you nowhere," one of them sneered.
Another chuckled. "They'll beat you for any mistake."
"You will learn."
I lifted my head, glaring up at them, my vision swimming.
"Go to hell." My voice was hoarse, but steady.
A fist slammed into my face.
My head snapped to the side, blood spilling from my lips.
A rough hand yanked my hair back, forcing me to look up.
Then-
"Enough!”
A loud voice was heard.
The ground shifted beneath me, or maybe I was the one tilting.
Boots stopped in front of me.
I forced my gaze upward.
And there he was.
My father.
He stared down at me like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t his daughter.
Like I wasn’t bleeding at his feet.
His expression didn’t change, didn’t soften, even as I sobbed.
“If you had not run away,” he said, his voice emotionless, “maybe this wouldn’t have happened earlier.”
My stomach turned. My hands trembled against the chains.
Ciaran was dead.
Because of him.
Because of this.
I sucked in a breath, fire burning in my chest.
“Father… why?” My voice cracked, my nails digging into my palms. “Why?”
He sighed. Sighed.
Like I was an inconvenience. Like this was all my fault.
“You were never meant for him,” he said simply. “You were meant for greater things.”
I recoiled. “Greater things?” I rasped. “You mean Roman Draven. I would die within a week. You know that.”
He didn’t answer.
I lunged forward, but the chains snapped me back, the silver digging into my skin.
“You’re a monster,” I spat, my voice shaking. “A monster!”
He exhaled, shaking his head.
“Take her.”
The guards yanked me up, dragging me forward as my feet scraped against the dirt.
I twisted, trying to see Ciaran one last time. His body lay motionless, the arrow still buried deep.
Tears blurred my vision.
“Ciaran!!”
I screamed. Fought. Begged.
But they didn’t stop.
They threw me into the back of a carriage, the door slamming shut behind me.
I pounded my fists against it, but the metal didn’t budge.
Through the tiny window, I saw my father turn away.
Just like that.
Like I was nothing.
The wheels moved forward.
And I was on my way to him.
Roman Draven.
The man who would ruin me.
- Writer
