CHAPTER 7 : A DEADLY RESCUE

The forest felt wrong—quiet in a way that made your skin crawl. Lyra’s breath sounded loud, even to her own ears, as she ran. Every inhale left her chest raw, and every step jolted her already-bruised ribs, but she wouldn’t slow down. Moonlight spilled through the tall trees, throwing stretched silver shadows over the undergrowth. Branches tore at her arms. Still, she pressed deeper into the woods. Inside, her wolf stirred—uneasy, tense. Yeah, danger was close. Faint footsteps followed her, crunching leaves and twigs. Still chasing. She could’ve sworn she’d lost them back at the broken part of the fence when she slipped out of the pack compound. She realized then: rogues don’t give up. Not ever. And tonight, she was the prize. Her heart banged in her chest. Why? Why the hell was everyone coming for her now? First the attack in her room. Then the Alpha, acting weird, serving up cryptic warnings. Now this—rogues tracking her through the woods like she was nothing but prey. Lyra’s foot caught on a root. She stumbled, barely managed to stay upright. Pain flared in her ankle. She hissed, “Damn it,” forced herself onward—until a growl rolled out from the dark. She froze. Her wolf growled back. Instinct. Slowly, she spun around. Three wolves padded out of the shadows. Their fur was dirty, clumped. Their eyes glowed a sickly, yellow shade. Rogues. The worst kind—no rules, no pack, no loyalty. No mercy. One shifted to human as he stepped toward her. Tall, scarred, cold eyes, a smile that looked sharp enough to cut. “Well, well. There she is.” Her pulse spiked. The other two shifted too, just as big, just as mean. Now they all stared her down, wearing the look of hunters about to pounce. She took a slow, careful step back. “Stay back.” The scarred one laughed. “You’ve got spirit.” His eyes skimmed over her. “But not enough to last.” Her wolf paced in her mind, snarling. Fight, he seemed to say. But Lyra knew better—three against one and they were older, stronger. She’d barely last a few seconds in a fight. “Why are you after me?” Her voice shook, but she tried to sound bold. The men traded amused looks. One shrugged. “Orders.” Her stomach dropped. Orders again. “From who?” The first rogue c****d his head. “You really don’t know?” he asked, mocking. “If I did, would I be asking?” Her jaw clenched so hard it almost hurt. He grinned, not caring. “Doesn’t matter.” He stepped in, slow, deliberate. “You’re not meant to see sunrise.” Her heart started hammering. Before sunrise? This wasn’t random—someone wanted her dead tonight. Lyra’s head spun. “Why?” The third rogue barely looked interested. “You smell strange.” She stiffened. The leader nodded, sniffed the air again. “Yeah. That scent—” His eyes narrowed. “It’s wrong.” Her wolf twitched. Wrong? What did that even mean? “What does that mean?” She fought to keep her voice steady. The leader’s smile widened. “It means someone powerful thinks you’re dangerous.” He crouched, ready to spring. “And when powerful wolves think something’s dangerous…” His claws gleamed in the dark. “They get rid of it.” Adrenaline shot through her. Instinct screamed: Run. She bolted, and the rogues lunged after her. The woods exploded with snarls, thrashing branches, pounding paws. She ran full-throttle, but her ankle slowed her—she could hear the rogues catching up. Claws raked down her back. Pain burst through her body. She screamed, tumbled to the forest floor, dirt and leaves sticking to her skin. Before she could scramble up, something heavy pinned her down. A voice snarled, “Got you.” Lyra thrashed as the rogue yanked her head back by the hair, his breath hot and wet on her face. “You should’ve stayed in your room.” The other two approached. One drew a long, slender blade that glinted silver in the moonlight. Her chest tightened. Silver would kill her for sure. The rogue with the knife crouched. “Don’t worry,” he sneered, “this will be quick.” She glared. “You’re all cowards.” He only smirked. “Could be. But we’ll still be breathing tomorrow.” Her wolf howled inside her, wild and desperate. Something shifted in her chest—a heat, rising, pulsing. The rogues all paused. They looked at each other, unsettled. “What the hell…” That strange scent again, growing stronger, sharper—power humming in her blood. The knife-wielder hesitated, squinting at her. “That smell…” He didn’t get to finish. A deep, earthshaking growl rumbled through the trees. The forest stopped breathing. The rogues went rigid. They knew that sound—everyone did. Alpha. The air trembled as a massive black wolf appeared, stepping out of the darkness. His fur shimmered, thick and wild. Amber eyes burned right through the night. Kael. The rogues scrambled back. Fear flickered across their faces. Even they weren’t eager to mess with an Alpha. But Kael moved in a blur. One moment, the first rogue stood over her—next, Kael’s jaws closed over his throat. The crack snapped across the woods. The second rogue lunged, shifting mid-air—but Kael smashed him to the ground, tore him apart in seconds. The third rogue tried to bolt. He didn’t get far. Kael crashed into him, slammed him into a tree, ended it with a final, deadly bite. Silence fell again. Lyra lay there, stunned. Three bodies, blood on the leaves, and Kael standing over the last, chest heaving, that unbreakable rage rolling off him. He locked eyes with her, even in wolf form—intense and alive and just… dangerous. Then he shifted. Human now, tall, bare-chested, streaked with rogue blood. Lyra’s heart thudded. “Why are you here?” she asked, voice small. Kael scanned her, taking in her injuries, the blood, the bruises. His jaw set. “You’re reckless,” he said. She blinked. “What?” “You left the compound.” Anger flared. “Sorry,” she snapped, shoving herself up. “Didn’t know I needed permission to exist.” Kael’s eyes hardened. “You were safer there.” Lyra gave a harsh laugh. “Someone broke into my room!” “That was before,” he said, grim. She glared. “Before what?” He didn’t answer this time, just stared at the dead rogues. His voice dropped. “Before things got worse.” She crossed her arms tight over her aching ribs. “Seems pretty bad now.” Kael stepped closer, too close, old emotions buzzing faintly between them—a bond, not quite dead. “You don’t understand the danger you’re in,” he said, cold. She glared back. “Then explain it.” He broke eye contact, jaw clenched. “I can’t.” Lyra stared at him, disbelieving. “You’re impossible.” She pointed to the bodies. “People are trying to kill me!” “Yes,” Kael said, face unreadable. “And you won’t tell me why?” “No.” Her temper snapped. “Why?” He caught her gaze, something haunted flying past his eyes. If she found out, she might not survive it. His voice dropped, dangerous and soft. “The more you know, the faster you’ll die.” Lyra’s breath hitched. The quiet stretched, too sharp and final. At last, Kael stepped away. The space between them felt colder somehow. He said flatly, “Stay away from me.” Lyra frowned. “What?” “If you want to live, stay far away from me.” Her chest squeezed. “Why?” He didn’t reply. The truth was too dangerous. If anyone found out she was his mate, her life was as good as forfeit. War would break. The prophecy bound to her blood—too much to risk. Kael turned, melting back into the woods. “Kael,” Lyra called. He stopped. Didn’t look at her. “You rejected me,” she said quietly. “Yes.” “You keep warning me.” She hesitated. “But you’re still saving me.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. For a second she thought he might answer, but he only said: “Don’t mistake protection for care.” He left her there, with nothing but moonlight and the corpses of those who’d hunted her. Lyra shivered. Deep down, she knew this was just the start. And somewhere in the darkness, someone else had watched. A shadow slipped out from behind a tree, lips curved in a sly, knowing smile. “Well,” he whispered, almost to himself. “This just got interesting.”