The wind howled through the treetops as Kael sprinted through the forest, the woman cradled against his bare chest. Her skin was ice-cold, her pulse faint, but steady. She stirred slightly, murmuring words he couldn't understand—fragments of a language lost to time.
The pack's den came into view: a fortress of stone and timber hidden deep within the forest. Guard wolves stirred as they sensed Kael's approach, but none dared speak until he crossed the threshold.
"Kael?" It was Thorne, his beta and oldest friend, who stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he caught the scent of blood—and something else. "What the hell did you bring back?"
Kael didn't answer.
He marched past the gathering wolves, ignoring their stares. He entered the main lodge and laid the woman gently on the healer's bed, barking a single command: "Call Lyra. Now."
Moments later, Lyra, the pack's healer and seer, entered the room with her arms full of herbs and tools. Her sharp green eyes landed on the unconscious girl.
"Human?" she asked skeptically.
"No," Kael growled. "Not completely."
Lyra paused. She sniffed the air, and her brows furrowed.
"She carries moon magic. Ancient. Tainted… but not corrupted. Kael, where did you find her?"
"In the clearing near the old border," he said. "She was bleeding, chased by something. I don't know who or what nor whom it was."
Lyra began cleaning the girl's wounds, her hands moving quickly. "She's lucky you found her. Any longer and she would've bled out. But this scent… it's old bloodline magic. She's bound to the moon itself."
Kael clenched his jaw.
"Bound to me."
Lyra froze mid-motion. "What?"
"I felt it. The second I touched her." His voice lowered. "She's my mate."
Silence fell in the room, heavy and dangerous.
"That's impossible," Lyra whispered. "Your mate died ten years ago,how can this be possible."
Kael's eyes burned gold.
"Then tell me why I feel like I'd kill to protect her."
"I feel like doing anything to keep her with me."
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