Chapter 3

It hit me all at once: the thing I dreaded facing most wasn't Greyson and Cecilia. It was the entire Moonshade Clan.

I stayed in the cabin for a full day.

Outside, the occasional howl of a patrol shift change drifted by. My mother had someone bring soup and medicine. My father stopped by once, standing in the doorway, asking if I wanted to see the healer.

I refused everything.

I could have stayed holed up in there indefinitely.

But on the third morning, I pushed the door open.

I didn't want to hide anymore.

I went to the training grounds behind the settlement first.

It used to be the place I knew best.

Young warriors were sparring. A handful of adolescent wolves were off to the side practicing footwork. The dull thud of spears striking wooden posts echoed in a steady rhythm. It had been a lively scene—but the moment I walked in, the noise cut off like a snuffed flame. Every head turned.

I pretended not to notice and kept walking.

"…It's really her."

"I heard she escaped from Darksilver Castle on her own."

"Escaped—so what? Can't you smell it? That aura on her…"

The whispers wouldn't stop.

"Greyson already has his own Luna. Her position here is beyond awkward."

"The timing couldn't be worse—Cecilia's baby is almost due…"

A ripple of low, sneering laughter.

"Leila."

Someone called my name.

I turned. It was a she-wolf I used to train archery with.

"Are you… okay?"

How was I supposed to answer that?

I'm not okay—but I was standing here alive. I'm fine—but that would be too obvious a lie.

In the end, I just tugged the corner of my mouth. "At least I'm still breathing."

She opened her mouth, struggling to find words.

"The Darksilver family actually let her come back?" A young male warrior behind her spoke up abruptly.

Another one chimed in: "Who knows how she came back."

Right. They all wanted to know. A young she-wolf falls into vampire hands for three years—how exactly does she survive that?

Suddenly I couldn't breathe.

The people, the trees, the training posts—everything in front of me began to gently sway.

"Leila?"

Someone called my name again.

I didn't answer.

A sudden downpour came out of nowhere. I jogged back to the cabin, gripping the chair, gasping for air.

Three years ago, it had been weather just like this.

When I'd left that day, I'd thought it would only be a light rain.

I never should have gone that far.

But I'd had a fight with Greyson the day before. Well, not really a fight—he'd been busy in meetings with the old Alpha and the elders, hadn't paid me much attention for days. I'd been sulking, so I rode out alone toward the Greyridge border to clear my head.

I still remember the bleached wild grass lining both sides of that mountain trail, the ridgelines stacked against low-hanging clouds in the distance, and at the end of the road, an abandoned supply post—once used by border patrols for shelter, long since fallen into disuse after the frontier was redrawn.

That's when the rain started.

Before long, it was coming down in sheets. My horse spooked and nearly threw me. I tied it under the eaves and ducked inside the ruined outpost.

I was soaked through, hair dripping, cursing Greyson under my breath as I wrung out my hem.

If it weren't for that stupid argument, I never would have come to such a remote place alone.

I'd even been thinking—once the rain stopped and I got home, I'd make him grovel. This wasn't over until he made it right.

How childish.

How pathetic.

I touched the moonstone hanging at my waist—the one Greyson had carved for me himself two years earlier. He'd said that as long as I held it, he could sense my location.

That was when I saw a figure in the rain.

More precisely—a vampire.

A chill shot down my spine. I locked my eyes on him, every muscle tense.

The next instant, he struck.

I didn't even see him move. In the time it took me to blink, my blade hand was already pinned at the wrist.

"Don't move." His voice was a raw scrape.

I didn't listen.

I thrashed. Couldn't break free. Drove my knee up—he blocked it with a sidestep. I threw everything I had into it, and none of it mattered. To him, my resistance was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Moments later, two more figures appeared in the doorway.

His people.

They dragged me out of the outpost. I didn't stop fighting. I kicked one of them square in the chest—he grunted, but his grip on my arm didn't loosen by a fraction.

My foot slipped in the mud. As I went down to one knee, the moonstone charm at my waist dropped into the puddle beside the road.

I looked back at it.

I was taken north beyond the Greyridge Mountains, into a castle of black stone draped in perpetual low clouds.

"Wandering the borderlands alone." Cassian stood in the doorway of the tower room. "Don't Moonshade wolves always run in packs?"

I stared at him through clenched teeth. "Let me go."

"Your blood is… unusual." He smiled at me.

From that day on, Cassian kept me imprisoned for three full years.

I snapped back to the present, shoving that wretched memory as deep down as it would go.

The rain was still falling.