After Escaping the Vampire's Castle, I Found My Entire Clan Thought I Was Tainted

I ran for three days and three nights.

But I couldn't stop.

Behind me were the vampire hunters. Ahead was the pine-wood border marking the outermost edge of the Everdark Forest.

If I could just cross it. If I could just cross it, I'd be safe.

My fingers clawed into the dirt as I dragged my two nearly useless legs forward, inch by inch.

I crossed it.

I actually crossed it.

The border guard's torch swept over me, and the young warrior froze for barely a second before bellowing into the trees:

"Get Elder Edmond! Someone get him—now!"

What happened after that, I can barely remember.

I remember people running. Someone bending over me. Someone pressing a hand to my forehead and yanking it back like they'd been burned.

I heard my mother's voice. "Oh God… Leila…"

I couldn't get a single word out. The next second, everything went black.

When I woke, I was lying in a familiar cabin.

It looked exactly the way it had three years ago. The wolf fangs I'd collected as a child still sat on the windowsill. The hide blanket in the corner was folded neatly. The moonstone lamp rested beside the bed, casting a ring of warm amber light.

My father was sitting at my bedside.

He'd aged.

Silver streaked his temples, and a scar I'd never seen before ran across the back of his hand.

I learned later that when the patrol found me, I'd been burning with fever, completely delirious. My father had carried me back himself. He'd sat by the bed for three full days, and only let out the breath he'd been holding when I finally opened my eyes.

He pulled his cloak higher, covering the back of my neck, and didn't say a word the entire time.

I knew he'd caught the scent.

The moment I set foot in the Everdark Forest, the scar on my nape had begun to freeze over.

Almost on instinct, I lifted my hand. My fingertips found the scar.

A ridge of silver-white, cold—nothing like the temperature of the skin around it.

Something the vampire had left behind.

The blood oath Cassian had branded into me.

My fingers hovered there, unmoving.

My father's gaze fell to the back of my hand. He reached over and tugged my cloak a little higher, trying to cover the scar.

"Drink some water." He passed me the wooden bowl from the stool beside the bed. His voice was raw.

I took it.

"There's a feast at the main hall tonight," he said. "Greyson says to come once you're awake."

Greyson.

The name made my heartbeat stutter.

Greyson Wolfridge. Son of the Moonshade Clan's Alpha. My fated mate.

No—he wasn't my fated mate anymore. I couldn't sense him at all.

I braced myself upright, and the half-healed wounds across my body screamed in protest.

"I'm going now."

The main hall looked the same as always.

A longhouse built of pine, two stone wolves flanking the entrance, firelight spilling through the cracks in the door, the smell of stew and roasting meat tangled together, drifting out on the night wind.

I stood at the threshold for a moment, drew a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

I'd seen scenes like this a thousand times before. As a child, I'd sit beside my father. When I grew older, I sat next to Greyson. After the feasts, he'd take my hand and lead me to the birch forest out back to watch the moon, telling me that when my nineteenth year came—the year of the first snow—he'd go to the elders and arrange our bonding ceremony.

Back then, everyone assumed I'd become the Moonshade Clan's Luna sooner or later.

Now… I couldn't help the bitter smile that crept across my face.

Greyson sat at the head of the table.

Three years apart, and he had become the Moonshade Clan's Alpha.

Beside him sat a woman.

Visibly pregnant, one hand cradling her belly. She turned her face toward me and smiled.

Cecilia.

My best friend.

Everyone was staring at me.

No one spoke.

"Leila!"

Cecilia broke the silence first. She braced herself against the table and stood, belly and all. "You're finally awake—we were worried sick."

She reached out to take my hand.

I stepped back without thinking.

Her hand hung in the air. A beat of hesitation.

"Right," she said with a slightly strained smile, "you just woke up, you must be exhausted. Come sit down, don't just stand there."

She glanced over her shoulder, and Greyson finally spoke.

"Leila."

Someone nearby cleared their throat. Hushed whispers slithered from somewhere down the long table, worming into my ears like insects I couldn't swat away.

"Can't you smell it? That ice-cold aura on her…"

"That's vampire scent…"

"A blood oath mark—she's got their blood inside her. Can we even call her one of us?"

"What's the point of her coming back…"

I stood frozen.

Every wolf in the Moonshade Clan had picked up on it—the vampire scent carried by that silver-white scar.

To our kind, the revulsion was visceral. Biological.

I'd always known it would be like this.

Cecilia turned her head, sweeping her gaze over the whisperers. They shut up immediately.

"Leila, don't take it to heart." She turned back to me, her expression still gentle. "It's been so long since everyone's seen you—a little curiosity is only natural. So much has happened in the clan these past three years… Once you've rested up, I'll fill you in on everything."

Fill me in on what, exactly?

Her hand drifted to her belly. It was unmistakably large, the fabric of her dress stretched taut over the curve.

"How far along?" I heard myself ask.

She blinked, then looked down with a soft laugh. "Almost eight months. Greyson says if it's a girl, he wants her to learn to hunt from you someday. You were always the fiercest female warrior in the whole clan."

I lowered my eyes.

A memory surfaced, unbidden—years ago, Greyson holding me on the grassy slope by Moon Lake, staring up at a sky full of stars, kissing my forehead: "When we have kids, I want a daughter first. Just like you—bad temper and all. I'd spoil her just the same."

"Leila," Greyson said, "come sit by me."

I shook my head and took the seat beside my father.

Something flickered across Greyson's face, but he said nothing more.

Halfway through the meal, Cecilia suddenly turned to me with a smile.

"Leila, do you remember the birch grove behind the main hall? Greyson was just saying the other day that once the baby's born, he wants to build a swing out there."

Greyson's brow creased. He said her name under his breath: "Cecilia."

"What?" She looked at him, all innocence. "I just want Leila to know we all missed her."

I set down my knife and fork and stood.

"I'm sorry—I'm not feeling well. I need to go."

I turned and walked toward the door. No one stopped me.

Or rather, no one knew how to.

I stood under the moonlight.

Behind me, the main hall came alive again—laughter, the clink of cups, the crackle and pop of the fire, all of it drifting through the pine door.

I tugged my collar higher and tilted my head back to look at the nearly full moon overhead.

I'd fought tooth and nail to get back here.

For what?

Three years.

Everything had changed.

Cassian's blood was still inside me. If he wanted, I could be punished for my escape at any moment.

He could follow the blood oath's pull straight to my side and sink his teeth into the back of my neck, just like before.

I was home.

But standing here in this moonlight, I felt like neither place would ever be home again.