Control is a fragile thing.

I’d spent years building mine — every scar, every victory, another brick in the wall that kept the wolf caged. But that night, the wall cracked.

It started as a whisper under my skin. A thrum, steady and rhythmic, like someone else’s heartbeat bleeding into mine. Then came the heat — a slow burn in my veins that had nothing to do with anger.

I knew what it was. I just didn’t want to name it.

The bond.

After all these years, I could still feel her.

I gripped the edge of the table until the wood splintered beneath my claws. The war tent was silent except for my breathing, shallow and uneven. Daren lingered by the door, pretending not to notice the tremor running through me.

“You’re burning through your skin, Alpha,” he said finally. “You want me to call the healer?”

“No.” My voice came out rough, too sharp. “It’s not sickness.”

“Then what is it?”

I didn’t answer. How could I explain that the ghost of a girl I’d thought long dead had woken something I’d buried with her father’s blood? That every breath I took now came with a taste of her rage — her pain — like the bond was punishing me with her memories?

________________________________________

When night fell, I left the camp. The forest called, dark and endless. The wolf prowled just beneath the surface, restless, hungry.

I ran until the trees blurred and the cold air burned my throat. Until I reached the ridge — the border where her scent still lingered.

I dropped to my knees in the dirt and let the memories take me.

Her father’s face.

The fire.

The way she looked at me — terrified, wild — before she disappeared into the flames.

I told myself I’d spared her. That leaving her alive was mercy. But maybe it had just been cowardice.

The bond pulsed suddenly — a sharp, electric jolt that made me gasp. I felt it clear as if it were my own thought: fear. Then anger. Then something deeper, rawer — grief.

My claws dug into the soil.

She was close.

And she knew.

________________________________________

“She’s alive,” I whispered to the darkness. “And she hates me.”

The wolf didn’t care. It only wanted her — wanted to find her. It howled inside my chest, a sound no throat should make.

Ours.

I slammed my fists into the earth. “She’s nothing to you.”

But even as I said it, the words rang hollow.

Because I could feel her. The rhythm of her heart, the echo of her breath. When she moved, I knew. When she dreamed, I felt the edges of it — flashes of cold, fire, loss.

And tonight… confession.

She’d spoken her truth to someone — I didn’t know who, but I felt the weight lift, the pain shift. It tore through me like lightning, and for the first time in years, I couldn’t tell where she ended, and I began.

________________________________________

I rose slowly, chest heaving, eyes burning silver.

Daren’s voice cut through the trees behind me. “Alpha! We need orders. You said no movement south—”

“That’s changed.”

He stopped short, scenting the air, uneasy. “What happened?”

I looked out toward the river — toward the border that separated what I’d done from what was coming.

“Someone’s crossed into our lands,” I said. “And this time, I’m not sending scouts.”

Daren frowned. “You’re going yourself?”

I turned, meeting his gaze. “If the past wants to haunt me, I’ll face it head-on.”

________________________________________

The wind shifted, carrying her scent again — faint, wild, defiant. It wrapped around me like a curse and a promise.

The wolf inside purred, low, and savage.

I let it.

Because no matter how much blood there was between us, I couldn’t fight the truth burning in my bones.

She was alive.

And the Moon wasn’t done with either of us yet.