The howl echoed again—closer this time.
Mira’s breath hitched as she stepped out into the cold night air. The trees loomed around them, dark and restless. Thorne was already ahead, his boots silent on the snow-packed path, eyes sharp, body tense.
“Do you think it’s rogues?” she asked, trying to keep up.
He didn’t answer.
“Or something worse?”
Still nothing.
She scowled. “You know, for someone who insists I stay alive, you could at least pretend I’m not invisible.”
Thorne’s voice was low. “Talking gives away position.”
Mira rolled her eyes and muttered, “So does stomping around like a pissed-off ghost.”
He glanced back once, just a flick of his eyes, then kept moving.
They reached the edge of the border where the trees thinned and the sky opened wide above them. Nothing moved. Just silence. Stars blinked cold and distant.
After a long pause, Thorne finally spoke. “It’s quiet now. We’ll circle back in ten.”
They walked slowly, side by side. Mira’s arms were crossed, her breath coming in soft clouds.
“So,” she tried again, “you always this charming on patrol?”
He said nothing for a few more steps. Then, unexpectedly: “I was exiled.”
That stopped her. “What?”
Thorne didn’t look at her. “You keep asking. There’s your answer.”
She blinked, taken off guard. “Why?”
“The council wanted to control me. Told me who to mate with to keep the bloodline pure. I told them no.”
“You said no and they banished you?” Her voice held disbelief.
“I didn’t kneel,” he said simply. “They like their wolves obedient.”
Mira walked in silence for a moment, the wind brushing her braid across her shoulder. “Who’d they want you to bond with?”
“Some high-ranking noble’s daughter. I met her once. She smiled like she already owned me.” He paused. “She wasn’t mine.”
Mira stared ahead. “I know what that feels like.”
He glanced sideways at her. “You were promised too?”
She laughed—but there was no humor in it. “No. I was claimed. And humiliated.”
He didn’t speak, but his silence wasn’t cold now. It was… listening.
“Ronan announced his new mate in front of the entire pack. Just like that. I stood there like a fool while they all stared.” Her voice trembled. “He made sure I knew I was nothing.”
Thorne’s jaw tightened, but he still said nothing.
She shrugged, as if she could throw off the memory. “My family didn’t stop it. They never saw me anyway. I was just… there. Too much of a reminder of what they wanted to forget.”
She stopped walking.
He turned to face her.
“I’ve spent most of my life being tolerated,” she said. “But never wanted. Not really.”
For a long moment, there was only the wind between them.
“I heard stories once,” Thorne said. “About a princess. The king’s daughter. Said she was spirited. Defiant. Said she vanished the night of a moon gathering and never came back.”
Mira’s breath caught.
He looked at her, eyes narrowed just slightly. “They say the king regrets it now. That he’s been searching. Quietly. Sending out hunters, scribes, trackers. But no one speaks her name.”
She forced her voice steady. “What does that have to do with us?”
Thorne shrugged. “Nothing. Just a story.”
But his eyes lingered on her like he was trying to read between lines she hadn’t spoken.
She broke the tension with a tired smile and held out her hand, palm scratched from earlier.
“You’re good at playing healer. Got anything for this?”
He hesitated, then took her hand in his—warm, steady, careful.
“You surprise me,” she said as he dabbed something cool onto the cut. “Thought you had no patience.”
He smirked. “Don’t make me regret it.”
They sat back near the fire once they returned, the silence softer now. Mira caught him glancing at her sometimes—quick, quiet looks like he didn’t want to care but already did.
She was about to tease him again when a jolt of pain ripped through her stomach.
She froze.
Another one followed—sharper, deeper.
Her hand shot to her belly. She inhaled sharply.
Thorne noticed instantly. “What is it?”
“I… I don’t know,” she whispered. “It hurts—”
And then she felt it.
Warmth. Too sudden. Too real.
She looked down.
“Oh no,” she breathed. Her voice cracked. “Thorne—my water just broke.”
He helped her down onto the cot, already clearing space, hands moving quickly. She breathed through another wave of pressure, jaw clenched. “I thought I had more time.”
“No one ever has enough time,” he said, folding towels without looking up.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She gave a breathless laugh. “Is this your version of bedside manner?”
“It’s practical.”
“Of course it is.”
The next contraction hit harder. Mira bit down on a cloth he handed her. Sweat gathered at her temples. Her body moved without asking. She wasn’t ready—but her body didn’t care.
“Why did you save me?” she asked in a rasp between breaths.
Thorne paused. His eyes met hers. “Because no one else did.”
She blinked, then exhaled slowly. “I wasn’t supposed to survive him.”
“But you did,” he said. “You ran.”
“Running didn’t feel brave when I was freezing.”
“To those who don’t make it, it is.”
Their eyes locked. There was no softness in his tone—but there was truth. That was enough.
“I don’t want to do this alone,” she whispered.
“You won’t.”
The pain came harder now, in pulses. Mira clutched the cot’s edge as Thorne moved through the space like he’d done this before. She didn’t ask if he had. She just breathed, grit her teeth, and waited for the next wave.
“If you make a joke right now,” she hissed, “I will kill you.”
“I’m not that dumb.”
“You were smug when you gave me that sword.”
“You didn’t break, did you?”
She let out a short laugh. “Barely.”
Thorne knelt beside her, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of his hand. “You’re not helpless,” he said, voice low.
Mira doubled over with a sharp gasp, both hands gripping the bedframe.
“Thorne—” she choked out. “Something’s—something’s wrong.”