Sunlight filtered through the wooden windows, casting golden lines across the floor.
Aria stirred slowly, her body aching in quiet protest as she blinked against the warm light. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was. The unfamiliar scent of pinewood, —it wasn't Shadowclaw territory.
Then it came rushing back.
The ceremony. The rejection. The rogues.
Kael.
Her eyes adjusted, taking in the small room again. The simple cabin had become her sanctuary overnight. For the first time in a long while, she hadn't woken in fear. No harsh footsteps outside her door. No cruel whispers.
She sat up, careful of her injured shoulder. The bandage held firm, and though the skin beneath throbbed, it was manageable. Beside the bed, a small table held a wooden tray: bread, berries, and a warm mug of tea that smelled faintly of peppermint and honey.
She blinked at it in surprise.
Someone had come in while she slept.
Not to hurt her.
To take care of her.
Her stomach growled—a quiet, foreign sound. She couldn't remember the last time someone had fed her without it being conditional, without sneering faces reminding her she was lucky to be given leftovers at all.
She ate slowly, savoring the food and the moment. The berries were sweet, the bread dense and soft. The tea soothed her throat, warming her from the inside.
When she finished, she washed her face in the small ceramic basin by the window, tying her long dark hair into a low braid. Her reflection in the glass pane was faint, but she studied it anyway.
Dark circles. Faint bruises. Eyes too old for someone so young.
But she was still standing.
She had survived the ceremony.
She had survived the rogues.
And now… maybe she could start surviving herself.
She stepped outside into the quiet hush of morning.
The camp was already alive with movement—wolves sparring in the distance, others carrying bundles of firewood or tending to the perimeter. No one looked twice at her. A few gave short nods. Not of pity but acknowledgment.
She hadn't experienced that before. The feeling that she was part of something, even if only temporarily.
She walked slowly, careful not to jostle her shoulder. She had no idea where to go, but her feet took her toward the open clearing near the centre of the camp.
And there he was.
Kael stood near a row of warriors, issuing quiet instructions. His presence was magnetic—not loud, not commanding in an arrogant way, but in a way that made everyone want to listen. Wolves obeyed him not from fear, but respect.
As if sensing her, Kael turned.
His gaze softened slightly. "Morning."
She nodded.
He walked toward her, leaving his men to continue training. "How's the shoulder?"
She mimed a small thumbs-up and tapped her heart once, then pointed to the cabin—her way of saying thank you.
Kael's lips lifted, barely. "You're welcome."
A silence settled between them not uncomfortable. Simply quiet.
Then he said, "I'd like to ask you something."
Aria tilted her head slightly.
"Not about your past. Not yet," he clarified. "But I need to know do you have anyone looking for you? Anyone who might come here?"
Aria's stomach knotted. She shook her head. Firm.
Kael studied her face for a moment. "Alright."
Another pause.
"I'm offering you a place to stay" he said. "You don't have to stay forever, but… for now. Until you decide what comes next. No one here will hurt you."
Her heart twisted.
No one had ever offered her that before.
She nodded, slower this time. Not out of fear.
But trust.
Kael exhaled, as if relieved. "Good. Then you'll need a few things—clothes, supplies, a place to train. If you're willing."
Her brows rose slightly.
"Everyone her have something to do," he explained. "You don't have to fight. You can help the healers, the kitchens. But if you do want to fight, we'll teach you. No one stays weak in my pack."
Something flickered in her chest at the word.
My pack.
She hadn't had one in years. Not truly.
Her former alpha had made it clear that she wasn't really one of them. Not with her voice. Not with her silence. She was tolerated at best, forgotten at worst.
But Kael—he hadn't asked about her voice. He hadn't looked at her like she was broken.
She gave a slow nod.
Kael tilted his head. "Training, then?"
Another nod.
He smiled faintly. "Alright. We'll start slow."
By midday, Aria stood in a large open field, her feet bare against the floor.
A tall, lean woman with tightly braided hair stood across from her, holding two practice blades.
"This is Sera," Kael said. "My Beta. She'll train you. She doesn't tolerate excuses, but she's the best I have."
Sera handed Aria a short wooden blade.
Aria stared at it.
Sera folded her arms. "Ever held one before?"
Aria shook her head.
"Good," Sera said. "No bad habits to break."
The next hour was grueling.
Sera trained her on stance, balance, awareness. She made her repeat movements until her arms ached and sweat soaked through her shirt.
But not once did Sera treat her like she couldn't do it. Not once did she pity her.
And when Aria made a mistake, Sera simply said, "Again."
No yelling. No mockery.
Just correction. Discipline. Respect.
By the time Kael returned to check on them, Aria was gasping, her hands sore, but her eyes were shining.
She hadn't felt strong in years.
Now, she was beginning to remember what strength felt like.
That night, Aria sat on the steps of her cabin, watching the stars.
The camp was quiet again—wolves resting, firelight flickering through the trees.
Kael approached without a sound. She looked up as he settled beside her, a comfortable distance away.
"You kept up with Sera better than most newbies do on their first day," he said.
Aria shrugged modestly, but a hint of pride curled in her chest.
They sat in silence for a moment, both staring at the sky.
Then Kael spoke, softer this time. "I've seen that look before. The one in your eyes."
She glanced at him.
"I've seen it in wolves who've lost everything," he said. "Who've been broken down and left behind. But you're not broken, Aria."
Her breath caught.
"You're still standing," he added. "You didn't die in that forest. You fought. You survived. And whatever happened before now—it doesn't define you."
Her throat tightened. She turned away slightly, blinking fast.
Kael stood, his shadow long in the moonlight.
"My door's open," he said. "When you're ready to talk."
Then he walked away, leaving her alone with the stars and a heart that was no longer entirely shattered - for the first time ever she felt wanted.