The night pressed heavy on the ridge, thick with the scent of fear, smoke, and something colder — the lingering touch of Lucien's shadows. Wolves moved in tense silence, tending to the wounded, reinforcing the perimeter, whispering about curses and moon‑marks.
But all I could feel was the bond.
It pulsed beneath my skin like a second heartbeat, tugging at me, pulling me toward the one wolf I wasn't ready to face.
Rylan.
He stood at the far edge of the ridge, staring into the forest as if he could see Lucien lurking between the trees. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw clenched, his entire body coiled like a wolf waiting for the next attack.
I hated how the bond pulled me toward him.
I hated how my chest tightened when I looked at him.
I hated how much I didn't hate him.
I took a slow breath and walked toward him.
He didn't turn, but I felt him sense me — the bond humming, warm and electric.
"Lyra," he said quietly. "You shouldn't be out here alone."
"I'm not alone," I said. "You're here."
He flinched, just barely.
I stopped beside him, leaving a few feet of space between us. Enough to breathe. Not enough to break the pull.
He kept his eyes on the forest. "You should rest."
"I can't."
"Because of me."
I swallowed. "Because of everything."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and fragile.
Finally, I spoke. "Rylan… I need you to tell me the truth."
He closed his eyes. "I know."
"Are you moon‑marked?"
"Yes."
The word hung in the air like a blade.
I forced my voice steady. "What does that mean? Really."
Rylan exhaled slowly, as if the truth itself weighed him down. "It means the moon chose me. Gave me power. Strength. Sight. But it also means I'm bound to fate in ways other wolves aren't."
"And the curse?"
His jaw tightened. "The moon‑marked are destined to lose their mate."
My breath caught. "Always?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
He shook his head. "No one knows. Some say the moon demands balance — power for loss. Others say the moon‑marked burn too bright, and their mates can't survive the pull."
I stared at him. "And you believe that?"
He hesitated. "I've seen it."
My stomach twisted. "Who?"
"My father."
The world stilled.
Rylan's voice was quiet, raw. "He was moon‑marked too. My mother was his mate. She died when I was young. The bond… it broke her."
I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."
He nodded, eyes distant. "After she died, he lost himself. The bond's backlash nearly killed him. He became reckless. Violent. He pushed everyone away. Including me."
"And then?"
"He died fighting rogues. Alone."
My chest tightened. "Rylan…"
He looked at me then — really looked — and the pain in his eyes stole my breath.
"I swore I'd never take a mate," he said. "Never risk someone's life for mine."
"And then the moon chose me."
"Yes."
The bond pulsed — warm, aching, undeniable.
I looked away. "So what now? You pretend the bond doesn't exist?"
"I tried," he whispered. "But I can't. Not anymore."
"Why?"
His voice broke. "Because I care about you."
The words hit harder than they should have.
I stepped back, needing space, needing air. "Rylan… caring about me doesn't change the curse."
"No," he said. "But it changes me."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
He hesitated, then spoke quietly. "The moon‑mark reacts to emotion. To connection. To the bond. And when I'm near you… the mark strengthens."
I stared at him. "Strengthens how?"
He looked down at his hands — at the faint glow beneath his skin. "My power grows. My senses sharpen. The shadows fear me."
"And that's good," I said. "We need that."
He shook his head. "You don't understand. The stronger the mark becomes… the stronger the curse becomes too."
My breath caught. "So being near me makes it worse?"
"Yes."
The world tilted.
Rylan stepped forward, voice soft. "Lyra… I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to risk your life."
"And I don't want to run from you," I whispered.
He froze.
The bond pulsed — warm, electric, overwhelming.
Rylan's voice was barely a whisper. "Say that again."
"I don't want to run from you."
His breath hitched.
He took another step, closing the distance between us. "Lyra…"
I held up a hand. "Don't. Not yet."
He stopped instantly.
I swallowed hard. "I'm not saying I accept the bond. I'm not saying I trust you. I'm not saying I'm ready for… whatever this is."
He nodded slowly. "I understand."
"But I'm not rejecting you either."
His eyes widened — golden, bright, hopeful.
"Lyra…"
"I need time," I said. "I need answers. I need to understand what this means."
"You will," he said. "I'll tell you everything. Anything. Whatever you want to know."
I nodded. "Good."
He hesitated. "And… us?"
I took a slow breath. "We'll figure it out."
The bond pulsed — warm, steady, almost gentle.
Rylan exhaled shakily, relief softening his features. "Thank you."
Before I could respond, a howl echoed from the far side of the ridge — sharp, urgent, terrified.
Rylan's expression hardened instantly. "That's a warning call."
Another howl followed — closer, panicked.
Rowan sprinted toward us. "We've got movement in the trees!"
Rylan stepped in front of me, claws extending. "Lucien?"
Rowan shook his head, breathless. "No. Something else."
Rylan's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Rowan swallowed. "Wolves. Dozens of them."
Rylan stiffened. "The Hollow?"
"No," Rowan said. "Not rogues."
"Then who—?"
Rowan's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Bloodfang."
Rylan's blood ran cold.
"My pack."