We left before dawn.
No announcement. No ceremony. Just the quiet scrape of boots against dirt and the low murmur of guards changing shifts. The sky was still dark, the moon thinning into a pale ghost as the first hint of morning crept in.
I didn't look back.
If I did, I knew I'd hesitate—and hesitation was dangerous.
Lucien walked a few steps ahead of me, his pace steady, unhurried. He didn't rush me, didn't try to fill the silence with words that would mean nothing. That alone told me more about him than any promise could have.
Behind us, two Blackridge warriors followed at a respectful distance. They didn't stare. They didn't whisper. They treated me like I belonged beside their Alpha, not like an embarrassment he'd dragged along.
That was new.
The road out of Nightclaw territory felt longer than it ever had before. Every step carried the weight of what I was leaving behind—Lina's clenched fists, Sera's tear-filled eyes, the echo of laughter in the pack hall.
And Kael.
The bond no longer screamed, but it wasn't gone either. It sat in my chest like a dull ache, a reminder of something broken that hadn't fully let go.
I pressed my arms around myself, fighting the chill.
"You don't have to keep up if you're tired," Lucien said without turning.
"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.
He glanced back briefly, silver eyes sharp in the low light, then nodded. No argument. No pity.
We crossed the border just as the sun began to rise.
I felt it the moment we stepped onto Blackridge land.
The air changed.
It was heavier somehow, thick with discipline and control. Not oppressive—but watchful. The trees stood taller here, their branches intertwined like silent sentries. The ground beneath my boots felt solid, claimed, protected.
My wolf stirred.
Not in fear.
In awareness.
Lucien noticed. His stride slowed just enough to match mine. "You feel it," he said.
"Yes."
"Blackridge is old," he explained. "The land remembers who defends it."
That thought settled deep in my chest.
As we crested a low hill, the pack came into view—and I stopped walking without meaning to.
Blackridge wasn't just large.
It was formidable.
Stone structures rose from the earth, built into the landscape rather than forced upon it. Watchtowers stood at every perimeter point, wolves stationed at each one, alert and unrelenting. Training grounds were already active despite the early hour, warriors moving in sharp, controlled patterns.
This was not a pack that relied on fear.
This was a pack that relied on strength.
"Stars…" I whispered before I could stop myself.
Lucien's mouth curved slightly. "Still want to turn back?"
I swallowed. "No."
We were spotted almost immediately.
A horn sounded once—short and precise—and the activity in the grounds shifted. Wolves straightened. Conversations ended. Heads turned.
They didn't bow.
Not yet.
Lucien stepped forward, his presence rolling outward like a quiet command. The guards at the gate dropped to one knee instantly, fists to their chests.
"Alpha Lucien," one of them greeted. Then his gaze flicked to me, curious but respectful. "You've returned early."
"Change of plans," Lucien said. "This is my guest."
Guest.
Not omega. Not burden.
Something loosened in my chest.
As we passed through the gates, I felt it again—that strange pull inside me. My wolf lifted her head, alert, studying everything. She wasn't shrinking here. She wasn't hiding.
She was watching.
A tall man with dark braids tied back from his face approached us, his steps quick and purposeful. Power radiated from him, second only to Lucien's.
"Lucien," he said, brows drawing together. "What happened?"
"Later," Lucien replied. "Prepare the east wing. And inform the council I'll meet them tonight."
The man's gaze slid to me, assessing—but not dismissive. "Understood."
As he turned away, I exhaled slowly.
"They're not afraid of you," I said quietly.
Lucien glanced at me. "They don't need to be."
That was somehow more reassuring than comfort would've been.
He led me toward a quieter path, away from the main grounds. The further we walked, the more aware I became of my exhaustion. Not physical—something deeper. Like my body had been bracing for impact for too long and was only just realizing it could stop.
"This is where you'll stay," Lucien said as we reached a modest stone building nestled near the trees. It wasn't extravagant, but it was warm, solid. Safe.
"You're not… locking me in?" I asked before I could second-guess myself.
His brows lifted slightly. "Would that make you feel safer?"
"No," I admitted.
"Then no," he said simply. "You're free to leave. Explore. Train, if you want. Or rest."
"And if Kael comes?" The question slipped out, sharp with unease.
Lucien's expression hardened—not with jealousy, but with resolve. "He won't cross my border uninvited."
The certainty in his voice settled something inside me.
He paused, then added, "You owe me nothing. Not loyalty. Not gratitude. Stay because you choose to."
I nodded, throat tight.
As he turned to leave, I stopped him. "Why?" I asked. "Why help me?"
Lucien looked back, his silver eyes unreadable. "Because power doesn't always announce itself loudly," he said. "And because I don't believe in wasting it."
After he left, I stood alone in the quiet, my heart still racing.
For the first time since the rejection, I wasn't drowning.
I was standing on unfamiliar ground, uncertain—but upright.
And somewhere deep inside, my wolf smiled.
Whatever waited for me here…
I had survived long enough to face it.
I stepped inside and closed the door softly behind me.
The room was simple—stone walls, a low fire already burning, a bed neatly made with dark linens. No luxury, but no neglect either. Someone had prepared this space deliberately, not as an afterthought.
I moved closer to the fire, holding my hands out to the warmth. Only then did my knees begin to shake.
The moment I was alone, the strength I'd been borrowing from adrenaline cracked.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the blanket as the weight of the night finally pressed down on me. My chest tightened, grief rising sharp and sudden—but it didn't consume me the way I expected.
Instead, another feeling threaded through it.
Relief.
No whispers followed me here. No eyes measured my worth. No laughter waited behind my back.
My wolf stirred again, stretching like she was waking from a long sleep. She didn't whimper. She didn't hide.
She observed.
We're not broken, she seemed to say.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar quiet of Blackridge Pack. Somewhere in the distance, wolves trained. Guards patrolled. Life continued—strong, ordered, alive.
For the first time, the bond's ache dulled to a distant echo.
I didn't know what I was becoming.
But I knew this much, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones—
I had walked away from everything that tried to make me small.