BOUND BY BLOOD, BURNED BY FATE

Chapter 5: The Caged Moon

The scent of cold iron and rosemary clung to the healer's den — a fragrance Aria had once found soothing. Now, it made her stomach twist.

She sat quietly on a low bench beside the herb shelves, organizing dried wolfsbane and moonroot with hands that didn’t shake anymore. Not visibly, at least. But the tremble had moved inside her, threading its way through her chest, tightening each breath like a noose.

She could feel Lucan’s presence even when he wasn’t near — a looming shadow on her skin. It wasn’t always this way. Once, long ago, he'd been warm. Charismatic. The leader everyone wanted.

But Kade was the one she'd burned for.

Even now, just thinking his name made her hands pause over the herbs. Her fingers curled, knuckles whitening. Damn him for coming back. Damn him for leaving. And damn her traitorous heart for still remembering the exact curve of his jaw and the way he used to say her name like it was a prayer.

“Aria?”

She blinked and looked up.

Eline, the pack’s elder healer, stepped in from the back room. Her eyes—faded with age but sharp as glass—narrowed slightly as she studied Aria.

“You haven’t slept,” Eline said gently. “And your scent is... restless.”

Aria forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Eline leaned on her cane. “Nothing turns into something when you keep swallowing it down. This pack devours silence.”

That truth stung more than it should have.

Later, as twilight bathed the den in muted gold, Aria slipped away through a side door and into the shadowy path that wound behind the Alpha’s house. The wolf statues lining the trail—snarling, majestic—watched like sentinels. She hated them. Cold. Unforgiving. Like the man who slept beside her.

Lucan had always known how to wear a mask. In front of the pack, he was the iron-spined leader. But behind doors, the cracks showed. He was harsher now. Possessive. Suspicious.

Especially since Kade’s return.

She still remembered the night Kade appeared at the border. The air had changed. The whole forest had felt him return. And for one heart-stopping moment, Aria’s world had tilted — as if the moon had dropped from the sky and crashed into her chest.

But she couldn't trust Kade. Not yet. Not again.

And Lucan knew that. Which made her dangerous.

As she reached the northern cliff ledge, overlooking the dense thicket that divided Silverfang from the outer rogue lands, she wasn’t surprised to see Nina already waiting there.

Nina was one of the few she still trusted. A quiet, clever scout with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. Lucan kept her close, but Aria suspected it was only because he hadn’t yet realized how deep Nina’s loyalty to Aria truly ran.

“You’re late,” Nina said, tossing a stone over the cliff. “Sylas has people watching the healer’s den. You need to be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Aria said. “That’s what surviving is.”

Nina gave her a look. “For now.”

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the distant calls of wolves.

“What’s the plan?” Nina asked. “Because if you keep looking at Kade the way you do, someone else will notice soon.”

“I don’t have a plan,” Aria whispered.

“You will. You always do.”

Aria said nothing. But the knot in her stomach tightened.

That night, Aria returned to the Alpha’s quarters and found Lucan seated by the hearth, reading old scrolls of pack lineage. His gaze lifted when she entered, and for a second, something cold flickered in his eyes.

“You were gone long,” he said.

“I was helping Eline inventory the winter stores,” she lied smoothly.

Lucan’s lips curled into a smile, but there was no warmth in it.

“You’re too important to be left unprotected. Next time, take Sylas."

Aria nodded. “Of course.”

She turned to undress, her back stiff with restraint, and felt Lucan’s gaze press into her spine like a blade.

When she slid under the furs that night, he pulled her against him — possessive, not tender — as though her body alone could assure him of her obedience.

But her mind was elsewhere.

Drifting in memories of a warrior who once kissed her like she was wildfire.

And wondering just how much longer she could live like this before something inside her broke for good.

~

The clang of steel against steel rang through the Silverfang training grounds like the echo of a brewing storm.

Kade spun on his heel, sword raised just in time to block a vicious strike from Tarin, a young pack warrior with something to prove. The impact shuddered through Kade’s arms, but he held fast, pushing back hard enough to make the younger man stumble.

"You're faster than I thought, old man," Tarin growled, grinning.

"You're slower than I hoped," Kade replied, voice flat.

The surrounding warriors chuckled, but the sound was tense—tight. No one really knew where Kade stood yet. Not the warriors. Not the betas. Not even the wolves that shared their dens with him. His loyalty was a question mark, and his brother had done nothing to make his return feel welcome.

Lucan hadn’t challenged him directly, but he didn’t have to. Not when his lapdogs were all too eager to test Kade’s patience for him.

“Again,” Kade barked.

Sweat clung to his skin, and his muscles ached, but he welcomed it. Pain was cleaner than silence. Easier than the lingering scent of Aria that still haunted him. Easier than the ache he carried from the moment he saw her again and realized—she was surviving without him.

But surviving wasn’t the same as living.

And she was breaking. He could see it.

So was he.

After training, while the others laughed and shared drinks around the bonfire near the barracks, Kade ducked away—ignoring the way Sylas watched his every move from the shadows like a wolf hungry for blood.

He followed a path behind the supply shed to the western cliffside. An old stone bunker jutted from the forest floor there, half-swallowed by vines and time. A forgotten watchpost from the rogue wars—now buried beneath dust and silence.

Only a handful remembered it even existed. And fewer remembered what was inside.

Kade pushed the heavy door open, the hinges groaning in protest.

Inside, the air was stale, but undisturbed. He lit a torch and moved carefully, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. Cracked scrolls, old ledgers, war maps. But that wasn’t what he was here for.

He knelt near the back wall and brushed away a layer of grime from the stone. There—etched faintly into the wall—was a carving.

A tree split by lightning.

It was the sigil of the old resistance. A symbol of rebellion against unjust rule. His father’s hidden mark. A mark Lucan had erased from every wall in the main house.

He pressed his fingers to the carving, and the stone gave slightly. A whisper of gears turned.

A hidden compartment clicked open.

Inside lay several scrolls and a leather-bound journal, brittle with age. Kade lifted it gently, brushing away dust.

The first few pages were blank.

Then—his heart stuttered—a name.

Aria.

He didn’t read more. Not yet. A sound outside the bunker made him snap the book shut and draw his blade. He moved to the entrance, silent as a shadow.

Nothing.

Just wind.

But Kade knew he’d been followed. He could feel it in the shift of the trees. Someone was tracking him, waiting for him to slip.

Likely Sylas.

Kade exhaled, sliding the journal beneath his cloak. He had to be smarter. Faster. More careful.

Because whatever secrets Lucan had buried in this territory, Kade was starting to dig them up.

And someone was willing to kill to keep them hidden.

Back in the main house, Lucan sipped from a glass of bloodroot wine, eyes fixed on the fire as Sylas entered, silent and efficient as always.

“He went to the old bunker,” Sylas said.

Lucan didn’t look up. “Did he find anything?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Lucan’s smile was all teeth. “Let him dig. Let him think he’s uncovering secrets. The more he uncovers, the deeper I’ll bury him.”

Sylas bowed. “And Aria?”

Lucan’s smile faded. “She’s his weakness. And I’ll use her when I need to."