His heart felt heavy, yet hollow, each step away from the mansion dragging him deeper into a familiar emptiness. He didn't know where he would go. Rogues weren't welcome anywhere. But at least, this time, no one was forcing him to kneel.
As the forest swallowed him, the faint scent of Ravenmoon's magic wards faded. The early morning light filtered weakly through the trees, silver and pale. Devon's breath came in soft clouds as he whispered to himself, "I'll be fine… I've survived worse."
But his wolf stirred uneasily beneath his skin. The forest felt wrong, too quiet, the air too thick.
Then, the sound.
A twig snapping.
Soft.
Deliberate.
Close.
Devon froze.
He turned, scanning the shadows between the trees.
Nothing.
But his instincts screamed danger. He took a cautious step backward. An arrow whistled past his face, grazing his cheek before embedding itself in a tree behind him.
Devon's heart stopped.
Then came the scent, faint but unmistakable.
Blood.
Iron.
And Redstone.
Before he could react, figures burst from the trees, cloaked and masked, their weapons glinting under the morning light. There were five, no, six, their movements precise, trained.
Assassins.
He barely dodged the next strike, stumbling backward as pain shot through his ribs.
"How..." He couldn't finish the question. His mind reeled.
How did they find me so fast?
One of the masked wolves sneered beneath his hood. "The Redstone Alpha sends his regards, traitor."
Devon's blood turned cold.
They lunged.
He moved on instinct, his weakened body struggling to keep pace, claws flashing as he deflected a blade with his forearm. Pain lanced up his arm, hot and deep, but adrenaline drowned it out. His wolf growled within him, half-awakened, desperate.
They surrounded him in seconds. He was outnumbered, outmatched, and barely recovered. He couldn't shift. Couldn't run. But he refused to die on his knees again.
Devon slashed a bloodied hand across the ground, whispering words he didn't fully understand. The faint pulse of magic answered, a red glow searing through his veins as runes ignited beneath his palm. The ground trembled.
A shockwave exploded outward, flinging two assassins back. The others stumbled, startled, long enough for Devon to lunge forward and strike one across the chest. But the power burned. His breath caught in agony as the runes turned crimson, consuming his strength with every use. He dropped to one knee, coughing blood, vision blurring.
The lead assassin raised his sword.
"Weak omega," he spat, raising the blade for the killing blow,
A shadow flashed between them. The sound of steel meeting steel split the air, followed by the low, unmistakable growl of authority.
"Touch him," a deep voice rumbled, "and you won't live to regret it."
Lucien.
How could here appear?
The Alpha of Ravenmoon stood between Devon and death, his blue eyes blazing with fury.
The assassins hesitated, but only for a moment. The leader snarled, signaling the attack. They surged forward again, but Lucien's response was pure power. His sword arced through the mist in a blur of silver and black. Within seconds, two assassins fell, then a third.
Power rippled through the clearing, an Alpha's dominance so intense the air seemed to warp. The remaining attackers faltered, choking on the invisible pressure.
Lucien's voice was low, dangerous. "Tell your Alpha this... If he dares send another assassin into my lands, I'll burn Redstone to the ground."
The last two wolves retreated into the mist, dragging their wounded with them. Within moments, the forest fell silent again, and only the shallow rasp of Devon's breath remained.
Lucien turned sharply, his aura fading as he dropped to one knee beside him.
"Devon," he said, voice clipped but rough around the edges. "What were you thinking?"
Devon tried to speak, but his lips trembled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "I… didn't want to be a burden…"
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"A burden?" He reached out, gripping Devon's shoulders firmly, forcing his fading eyes to meet his. "You almost died."
Devon tried to smile, weak and broken. "Would've… saved you the trouble of protecting me…"
Lucien's expression hardened, but the emotion in his eyes was unmistakable. Anger was evident, yes, but something else too. Something rawer. "You fool."
Devon's vision dimmed. "You should've… let me go…"
Lucien's hand cupped the back of his neck as he began to lose consciousness.
"You're not going anywhere," he said, voice low and final. "Not ever again."
As darkness claimed him, Devon felt warmth, strong arms lifting him, a heartbeat steady against his ear, and a whisper that sounded almost like a promise.
"From now on… you're mine to protect."
Warmth.
It was the first thing Devon felt when consciousness clawed its way back, a steady, enveloping warmth that didn't belong to the cold infirmary beds he was used to. His body ached, dull pain pulsing beneath his ribs, but the sheets beneath him were soft, clean, smelling faintly of cedar and rain.
He blinked, his lashes heavy. The ceiling above him wasn't familiar, dark wood beams, faintly illuminated by the flicker of a fireplace. He tried to move, but pain lanced through his shoulder, and a low groan escaped his throat.
"Easy," a voice said from the shadows.
Devon froze.
Lucien stepped into the light, his broad frame outlined by the orange glow of the hearth. His sleeves were rolled up, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by exhaustion, but his eyes, those cold, blue eyes, never wavered.
"You're awake," he said quietly.
Devon swallowed, throat dry. "Wh… what happened?"
Lucien's gaze flicked briefly to the bandages wrapped around Devon's torso. "You were ambushed near the border. Six men from Redstone. You're lucky I found you before they did worse."
Devon's chest tightened at the name.
"So it was them," he whispered.
Lucien nodded once, his expression unreadable. "They were after you. Not Ravenmoon."
The truth stung, sharper than the wounds themselves. Devon turned his face away, staring into the flickering fire. "Then I really am just trouble to you."
Lucien was silent for a moment. Then, he crossed the room, stopping beside the bed.
"Trouble," he murmured, "doesn't bleed out trying to escape before dawn."
Devon looked up, startled. "I... I didn't mean to..."
"Didn't mean to what?" Lucien's voice was calm, but there was a roughness beneath it, a restraint fighting to hold itself steady. "Leave without a word? Get yourself killed outside my borders?"
Devon's eyes burned. "You shouldn't care. You said it yourself, I'm a stray. I don't belong here."
Lucien's hand slammed against the bedpost, not in anger, but in something close to pain. The sound cracked through the quiet. "You belong where I say you do."
The words hung in the air, heavy and commanding, but behind them was something fragile, desperation, maybe, or fear.