Chapter 4 Blood in the Borderlands

They rode at dawn.

Mist clung to the ground like ghosts, curling around the hooves of Lucien's midnight-black stallion. Luna sat behind him, bound, glaring into the fog-drenched trees as they moved through the woods in silence. The cold bit at her skin, but the man in front of her radiated so much heat, she swore he burned from the inside out.

"You could've at least untied my hands," she muttered.

"You bite," he said without turning.

"I only bite what deserves it."

"Then I'm glad I didn't gag you."

Her fingers itched for something sharp. Not because she hated him. No. Something worse. She wanted to understand him. And that desire felt like a betrayal of everything her pack had died for.

Behind them rode six men-loyal to Lucien, quiet, armored. None of them spoke unless spoken to. Their loyalty wasn't earned. It was feared.

Luna couldn't stop the thoughts rolling through her head.

The borderlands.

Her mother once whispered about them in terrified hushes-the cursed territory between packs, where the old wars were fought and ancient blood was spilled. Where no Alpha dared stake claim.

It was also where her wolf had gone silent forever.

"What are you looking for?" she asked after hours passed in silence.

Lucien didn't answer right away. Then, "Answers."

"To what?"

"To why the moon would bond me to you. And what it means."

She frowned. "You don't believe in fate?"

"I believe in war," he said. "And fate hasn't done me any favors."

The path narrowed. Trees grew close, and the shadows thickened, even in daylight.

Lucien called a halt. "Dismount," he ordered, and Luna felt the energy shift in his men. The tension. The danger.

She slid off awkwardly, her legs stiff, arms still bound.

Lucien stepped beside her, knife flashing-he cut the ropes.

"Try to run," he said softly, "and I won't stop you. But I won't chase you either. Something else will."

The forest around them fell into unnatural silence. No birds. No wind. No life.

"What is this place?" she whispered.

"The dead lands," he said. "Where old wolves are buried and older things sleep."

He handed her a cloak. Black. Heavy. She hesitated.

"Take it," he said. "You'll need it."

Luna wrapped it around herself. It smelled like him. Spice, smoke, and something wild. Something ancient.

They walked in single file through the trees, the men forming a loose circle around her, always keeping her at the center. Protected. Or watched.

Probably both.

"Why me?" she asked him quietly. "Why do you care what I am?"

"Because no wolf walks these woods without being called."

She didn't understand.

Until she heard it.

A whisper on the wind. Not in her ears-in her bones.

Luna...

She stopped cold.

Lucien turned to her, watching. "You heard it."

"No," she said, voice trembling. "No, it's nothing. Just... the wind."

"Wolves don't lie well," he said. "Your blood is waking up. These woods remember you."

"I've never been here."

"But your wolf has."

Suddenly, her chest ached. Her skin burned. She gasped, grabbing at her ribs as something inside her screamed. A pressure. A sound. A memory not hers.

Luna dropped to her knees.

"Get her up!" Lucien barked, but no one moved.

Because they all saw it.

The mark.

The one carved into her spine since birth.

It was glowing.

Silver-blue, like starlight.

Her breath caught. Her vision blurred. And then-

Flash.

A woman screaming in fire.

A wolf made of light.

A blade of moonstone dripping red.

And then nothing.

Luna collapsed. Lucien caught her before her head hit the ground.

Her body trembled in his arms, sweat slick on her forehead, eyes fluttering.

"What... was that..." she whispered.

Lucien cradled her gently, and for the first time, his touch wasn't power-it was protection.

"Memory," he said softly. "Or prophecy."

The men surrounded them now, alert, tense.

"She's waking," one of them muttered.

"Not yet," Lucien snapped. "She's not ready."

He lifted her easily, carrying her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. She wanted to push him away. Curse him. Bite him.

But her body betrayed her again-melting into his heat.

"Don't pretend you care," she muttered weakly.

"I don't," he said. "I just don't want the prophecy fulfilled without my permission."

"You're such an ass."

He chuckled. "I've been called worse."

She closed her eyes, letting herself drift.

But just before sleep claimed her, she heard him whisper into her hair-

"Your wolf is returning, little Luna. And when it does... it won't be kind."