Chapter 2 2

Alpha Carley Nightpaw stood at the edge of the old war room long after the council had cleared out, the fire in the hearth burning low, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The pendant Leila had given them- their insignia carved into blood-stained bone- sat on the table, untouched since she'd dropped it there like a threat.

Carley hadn't moved since.

His wolf paced restlessly inside him, teeth bared, fur raised. Seeing her again had been a shock to the system he hadn't realized he still carried. Her scent- it had ignited something in him, something he had buried deep under duty, guilt, and cold logic. A scent once comforting was now laced with power, sharper, more dangerous.

She had changed.

Leila had always been strong, even when she was younger and still learning her place in the pack. But now? She moved like a soldier. Spoke like a leader. She carried the weight of death behind her eyes.

And still, her presence rattled him to his core.

Three years. Three years of silence, of pretending the bond between them had truly died with his rejection. But tonight, under the rising blood moon, he'd felt the unmistakable pull return- sharp, jarring, undeniable. His wolf howled in his mind, furious with him for ever letting her go.

He picked up the pendant, running his thumb along the dried blood etched into their sigil. The Hollowborn. He'd heard whispers of the name, mostly rumors from rogues and travelers who passed through the borders. He hadn't taken them seriously.

That had been his first mistake.

The second had been rejecting the only woman fate had ever truly offered him.

He returned to his private quarters deep within the Alpha's Hall, where the stone walls were decorated with old weapons, family crests, and relics of past battles. A heavy oak desk sat near the window, papers strewn across it, half-finished reports and patrol rosters ignored in favor of the bottle of scotch he hadn't touched in months.

Tonight, he poured a glass.

He sat in the silence for a long moment before lifting the glass to his lips and letting the burn settle the storm in his chest.

When Leila had turned eighteen, the bond had revealed itself in a blaze of moonlight and instinct. He remembered it so clearly-her standing in the clearing behind the training grounds, hair wind-tangled, lips parted in awe. His wolf had surged to the surface, claiming her as his mate without hesitation.

But the council had whispered against it.

Leila wasn't from a strong bloodline. Her father had been a deserter. Her mother, though kind, had no notable strength or magic. There had been doubts- fears that their bond would weaken the Alpha line, that she couldn't lead a pack that demanded dominance and strength from its Luna.

Carley had tried to fight it.

For weeks, he argued. He defended her. But pressure had mounted, especially from his father's old allies- those who still clung to the outdated belief that bloodline and status were more important than fate. They warned that the other Alphas wouldn't respect a Luna with no lineage, no legacy.

And so, in a moment of weakness... he'd told Leila the bond was a mistake.

He'd seen the devastation in her eyes as he uttered those words. He had felt it too-like tearing out his own soul- but he had let her walk away, had watched her shift into her wolf and vanish into the forest, never looking back.

And now she was here again.

Back from wherever fate had taken her, bearing warnings and scars and fire in her eyes.

The worst part?

He wanted her. Still.

His wolf snarled in agreement, pacing in his chest like a caged beast.

He finished the scotch in one burning swallow.

Knock. Knock.

Carley turned, startled. Few people dared to interrupt him without being summoned.

"Come in," he called out.

The door creaked open, and Beta Rowan stepped inside, his sharp blue eyes watchful. He was tall, lean, and loyal-Carley's closest confidant and perhaps the only one who'd known how hard the rejection had hit him.

"She's in the old guest wing," Rowan said, closing the door behind him. "Didn't ask for anything. Didn't speak to anyone."

Carley nodded but said nothing.

Rowan leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "She's not the same girl you rejected."

"I know."

"She's stronger. And pissed."

"I know that too."

Rowan raised an eyebrow. "So what's the plan? Let her help, then send her away again?"

Carley exhaled slowly. "The Hollowborn are real. That much is clear. If she has knowledge of them, I'd be a fool not to use it."

Rowan gave him a look. "That's not what I asked."

Carley stood and walked to the window, staring out into the darkness where the moon glowed red above the treetops. "I don't know, Rowan. I thought the bond had faded. I thought I'd moved on. But seeing her again..."

Rowan waited.

"It hurts," Carley admitted.

Rowan's voice was gentle. "You didn't just reject a mate, Carley. You rejected your soul. You think that kind of wound just goes away?"

Carley gritted his teeth. "I had no choice."

Rowan didn't reply. They both knew that was only partially true.

Carley turned from the window, voice low. "I don't trust her."

"Because she left?"

"No. Because she survived out there... alone. Because she knows things she shouldn't. Because she walks like a predator now."

Rowan nodded slowly. "Maybe she became one because we made her."

Carley flinched.

The truth of it stung more than he expected.

"Keep an eye on her," he said finally. "But don't interfere unless I say so."

Rowan hesitated, then nodded. "Understood."

Across the compound, Leila sat in the small stone room that had once belonged to visiting diplomats and occasional wandering warriors. She hadn't unpacked. Her satchel remained on the bench, her boots still on her feet.

Sleep would not come tonight.

Her wolf paced just beneath her skin, still raw from the encounter with Carley. Seeing him again had felt like opening a half-healed wound and shoving her fingers inside it. The way he looked at her-equal parts wary and hungry-had made her blood run hot.

She hated that part of her still responded.

After everything. She leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.

Memories she had tried to forget came flooding back- Carley's lips on hers under a rainstorm, the way his hands used to cradle her hips like she was precious, the sound of his laughter as they raced through the woods at night.

And then, the coldness in his voice when he rejected her.

"You were never meant to be my Luna."

She had replayed those words a thousand times since.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor. Because the bond hadn't died. It had only been buried-wrapped in pain and betrayal, waiting for the right moon to stir it back to life.

The Blood Moon.

She had followed signs of the Hollowborn for months, traced their carnage through deserted territories and silent villages. She had warned other packs, but none had taken her seriously. Too many saw her as a rogue, a wolf with no pack, no purpose.

She had come to warn Carley not because she owed him anything-but because this was her territory too. This pack had been her home. And she refused to let it fall, even if they wanted nothing to do with her.

Especially him.

A soft knock at her door broke her thoughts.

Leila tensed. "Who is it?"

"It's me," came the muffled reply.

Carley.

She hesitated, every part of her screaming to send him away. But her wolf... her damn wolf pressed against her ribs, whimpering.

She opened the door.

He stood there, hands at his sides, expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," he said.

She stepped aside wordlessly.

When he entered, the air shifted, crackling with the leftover tension from earlier.

"I won't stay long," he said, glancing around the room like it was a battlefield. "But I needed to say something."

She crossed her arms. "I'm listening."

He ran a hand through his dark hair. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. Back then. I was young. Pressured. Afraid."

She scoffed. "Of me?"

"Of what choosing you would cost the pack."

Leila's eyes darkened. "So you threw me away for them."

"Yes," he said quietly. "And I've regretted it every day since."

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, she said, "It doesn't change anything."

"I know."

"You didn't just break the bond, Carley. You broke me."

His gaze lifted to hers. "I want to make it right."

Leila laughed bitterly. "There's no right anymore. There's only the threat coming for your people. And me-the rogue you rejected-trying to stop it."

He took a slow step forward. "Leila..."

She stepped back. "Don't."

But it was too late. The bond surged between them like wildfire. Her wolf rose to meet his, snarling, yearning, breaking through the wall she'd built.

The pain. The desire. The history.

All of it coiled in the air between them.

He didn't touch her.

He didn't have to.

Because the truth pulsed between them like blood under skin. They were still bound. And the blood moon was far from finished with them.

Leila turned away first. She needed to. The air in the room had thickened to the point of suffocation, the weight of their past pressing into every breath she drew. Her heart raced, and she cursed herself for the weakness that still answered to his voice. To his presence.

Behind her, Carley stood motionless. She didn't need to look back to know that his gaze hadn't left her, hadn't softened. He had always been good at restraint. Good at making her feel everything with a single look, but keeping himself locked up tight like a fortress.

Not anymore. She wouldn't let him use those eyes to break her again.

"I meant what I said earlier," she muttered, voice low. "I'm not here for you, Carley. I'm not here for apologies, or explanations, or-gods help me-closure. I'm here to stop something that's already rooted itself deeper than your council dares to admit."

She turned, slow and steady, meeting his eyes head-on.

"This territory is infected."

Carley's jaw tightened. "I know."

Leila arched a brow. "Do you?"

"I've seen the symptoms. Wolves vanishing from patrol. Strange scents on the wind. Dreams-visions-that aren't mine. My people are on edge, but they don't understand why." He took a step forward, his voice rougher now. "But I do."

Leila narrowed her eyes. "Then tell me."

Carley hesitated, just for a moment.

And Leila saw it.

The fear.

Not of her. Not even of the Hollowborn. But of what he couldn't control.

"I've heard whispers," he said finally. "Voices when I'm alone. A woman's voice. Not yours. Not anyone I recognize. She... she says things I don't understand. Sometimes she screams. Sometimes she sings."

Leila stiffened.

"What kind of song?"

Carley's brow furrowed. "Old. Ancient. The language is-"

"-not of this world," Leila finished. "Like wind howling through bones."

His silence was her answer.

Her stomach twisted. "They've touched you."

"I'm not marked."

Leila shook her head. "They don't need to mark you. Not if they know you're vulnerable."

Carley's fists clenched. "I'm not weak."

She met his eyes, and for once, didn't argue. "No. But you're open. To them. To me."

The unspoken truth between them hung like smoke in the air.

The bond.

It wasn't just fate tying them together. It had become a channel. A path between realms. When Carley had rejected her, it hadn't killed the bond-it had fractured it. And in that fracture, something ancient and hungry had found space to seep in.

Leila had spent months studying the Hollowborn-what little was left to learn. They weren't spirits. They weren't demons. They were the echo of wolves who had died in agony and been reborn in the spaces between the worlds. Feral. Vengeful. Hungering for the living.

They infected the vulnerable.

They bred madness in the minds of Alphas.

And they knew how to use broken bonds to crawl back into the light.

"Have you had blackouts?" she asked softly. "Moments where you lose time?"

Carley's jaw tensed. He didn't respond.

Leila closed the distance between them in a few deliberate steps, her boots whispering over the stone floor. She stopped just short of touching him.

"What have you done during them?"

"I don't know," he growled.

She studied him, the circles under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the faint shimmer of something not quite human behind his irises.

"You need to be cleansed," she whispered.

Carley recoiled, just a little. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Ritual fire. Blood rites. Moonbinding. Whatever it takes to sever their hold."

He shook his head. "No. I'm not going to let some rogue witch burn me to cinders over whispers in my dreams."

Leila's voice hardened. "Then you'll fall, Carley. And when you do, the Hollowborn won't just take you-they'll use you. They'll wear your face while they tear through your pack."

Carley snarled, his Alpha aura flaring, pushing against her like a heatwave. But Leila didn't flinch.

She matched him, her own power coiling in the air like smoke and stormclouds.

He stared at her, the edge of his lips curling-not into a smile, but into something raw. Something like regret.

"You're not the same girl I left," he said softly.

Leila stepped closer. "And you're not the same Alpha I trusted."

A beat of silence. Their eyes locked.

And then she said what she hadn't wanted to say since she'd stepped foot into this territory:

"But we still belong to each other."

His breath caught.

She could feel it-his wolf clawing under his skin, desperate to reach her. To mend what had been broken. Her own wolf rose to meet it, aching, furious, hungry for what should have been theirs.

The bond throbbed between them.

And just like that-it snapped back into place.

Not fully. Not yet.

But enough.

Carley staggered back a step, his hand flying to his chest. "What the-"

Leila grimaced, her own pulse stuttering. "The bond never died. It only fractured."

Carley looked at her with a strange mix of fear and wonder. "And now?"

"Now it's waking up."

She turned away, her voice low.

"And if we don't handle this soon, it'll consume us both."

Later that night, Leila stood on the northern ramparts of the compound, watching the blood moon bleed red into the sky. The wind carried scents of frost and decay, and beneath that, the faintest trace of something wrong.

Movement behind her drew her attention.

Rowan.

He approached slowly, arms folded, his expression unreadable. "You don't sleep much, do you?"

Leila didn't look at him. "Neither should you."

"I've been watching the borders. Strange things out there."

She nodded. "They're circling. Testing the wards. Looking for cracks."

Rowan exhaled. "You really believe what's coming can't be stopped?"

"I believe it can be fought," she said. "But not by pretending it isn't already inside the walls."

He studied her. "Carley said you've changed."

Leila finally turned to face him. "I had to."

Rowan hesitated, then asked, "Do you still love him?"

The question hit harder than she expected.

Love wasn't the right word anymore. It wasn't tender. It wasn't sweet.

What she felt for Carley was fury and need and pain, tangled with memories of what they could've had. It was a ghost that still reached for her when she was alone. A phantom limb.

"I don't know what I feel," she said honestly. "But the bond doesn't care."

Rowan nodded, solemn. "Then I hope you're ready. Because if the Hollowborn get through him..."

"I'll stop them," she said, voice steel. "Even if I have to kill him to do it."

Rowan didn't respond. He just nodded once and disappeared into the shadows.

Leila stayed there until dawn, watching the red moon sink and the shadows stretch longer than they should.