Facing the Past
“Quiet,” a low voice murmured in her ear as strong arms pulled her back into the shadows. Isla struggled instinctively, but two Crimson Fang warriors tightened their hold, dragging her away from the clearing. One of them, a stocky wolf with sharp eyes, leaned in close, scrutinizing her face with suspicion.
“Isn’t she the rogue that joined our pack recently?” he asked his partner, brow furrowing as he tilted her face toward the dim light.
She could barely manage a nod, her pulse racing as she tried to conceal her panic. If Kael found her now, everything she’d managed to hide would unravel. She forced herself to breathe evenly, hoping to avoid any further questions.
Moments later, another howl cut through the night, signaling a Midnight Crest warrior. The warriors released her, exchanging tense glances before one of them pulled her back toward the center of camp, heading directly toward Draven.
Draven’s mood was dark, his jaw set as he strode through camp. He stopped when he saw Isla and his warriors, his gaze locking onto her with a glint of suspicion.
“Explain,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.
Isla’s mouth felt dry, but she straightened, meeting his gaze as steadily as she could manage. “Someone from my former pack is hunting me down,” she admitted carefully. She didn’t dare mention her family, or that Kael wasn’t just any warrior—he was her fated mate, sent with a deadly ultimatum.
Draven’s eyes narrowed, but a flicker of something else crossed his expression. “You brought a Midnight Crest wolf into my territory?” he demanded.
“No,” she said quickly, “I didn’t know he’d come after me. I didn’t think…” Her voice trailed off, fear and frustration churning within her. “Please, just give me a chance to prove myself. I can be useful to your pack. Let me earn my place here.”
Draven’s mouth twisted into a smirk, one eyebrow raising. “And how exactly do you plan to prove yourself? I have enough warriors, Isla. You’ve seen them.”
“I can read maps,” she said, scrambling for any skill that might impress him. “I speak multiple languages. I can help.”
Draven crossed his arms, eyeing her skeptically. “I don’t need a linguist,” he said, his tone dismissive.
She took a deep breath, fighting back the anxiety clawing at her. “I’ll do anything, Draven.”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving hers, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned closer, his eyes glinting with dark interest. “Have you even shifted yet?”
The question struck a nerve, but she refused to let it show. “Not…not yet,” she admitted, hating the flush of embarrassment that crept over her.
“Ah,” he said, a spark of intrigue lighting his face. “A pure she-wolf. Untouched.” He held her gaze, a calculated pause between his words. “Then here’s your chance to be useful. If you aren’t mated by the time we hold the annual mating ball, you’ll be my chosen mate.”
Isla’s breath hitched, her heart pounding with equal parts dread and something darker, something she couldn’t quite identify. But she couldn’t respond before a new scent drifted through the air—a scent she recognized all too well.
Kael.
She spun around, her senses on high alert, desperate to mask her panic. If he exposed her here, everything would be ruined. She scanned the camp, praying he hadn’t yet spotted her, but then—
There he was, across the clearing, his gaze meeting hers with a predatory glint, his mouth curling into a smirk as he stepped forward.
“Found you,” Kael growled, his voice carrying across the camp.
