I ran until my lungs burned and my legs threatened to give out. The forest had grown denser, the trees closing in around me as I pushed forward, driven by pure survival instinct. My wolf form had long since failed me, forcing me back into my vulnerable human shape, dressed only in the gardener's clothes I'd stolen.

The suppressants I'd found in the shed were wearing off. Another wave of heat was building, making my skin hypersensitive and my thoughts foggy. I needed shelter, safety—anything but the open vulnerability of the forest.


A crack of a branch behind me sent ice through my veins.

"Little Omega," a familiar voice called, "you're making this too easy."

My kidnapper. He'd tracked me.


I pushed myself harder, ignoring the pain shooting through my bare feet as they struck rocks and fallen branches. The main road couldn't be far. If I could just reach it—

A heavy weight slammed into my back, sending me sprawling face-first into the dirt. Rough hands flipped me over, and I found myself staring up at the masked figure who'd locked me in that cellar.


"Your Alpha doesn't want you," he sneered, pinning my wrists above my head. "But someone else might pay good money for an Alpha's mate. Especially one in heat."

I thrashed beneath him, my Omega instincts screaming in terror. "Get off me!"

"I don't think—" His words cut off in a strangled gasp as he was suddenly lifted and hurled through the air.

Aiden stood over me, his eyes blazing crimson, fangs extended in a feral snarl. His entire body vibrated with rage, the air around him thick with dominant Alpha pheromones.

Before my kidnapper could recover, Aiden was on him. What followed wasn't a fight—it was a brutal demonstration of an Alpha protecting what was his. I turned away, unable to watch the violence, yet unable to feel anything but a twisted satisfaction at my tormentor's cries.

When silence finally fell, I looked up to find Aiden standing over the unconscious form, his chest heaving, blood—not his own—spattered across his shirt.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice still rough with aggression.

I shook my head, struggling to my feet. "I'm fine."

He stalked toward me, his eyes scanning my body for injuries. The anger radiating from him should have frightened me, but all I felt was exhaustion.

"Your performance is getting more and more convincing," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hired an actor this time? Is this how desperate you are for my attention?"

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me in cold waves. "You think I staged this?"

"What am I supposed to think, Luna?" He gestured wildly. "You disappear on our anniversary, then suddenly need rescuing from some mysterious kidnapper? It's a bit convenient, don't you think?"

The laugh that escaped me was hollow, bordering on hysterical. "Convenient? I was locked in a cellar. I had to claw my way out through a window. I've been running for my life."

"You've always had a flair for the dramatic," he said, though something in his eyes wavered—uncertainty breaking through his anger.

"Think whatever you want," I said, too tired to argue. "I don't care anymore."

His nostrils flared, catching the scent of my fading heat, my exhaustion, my pain. For a moment, something like guilt crossed his features.

"Did you know Eliza is pregnant?" he asked suddenly.

The abrupt change of subject hit me like a slap. Of course. Even now, even here, she was between us.

"Is it yours?" I asked flatly.

He froze, his expression shifting from shock to outrage. "What the hell kind of question is that? She's my sister!"

"Not by blood," I pointed out. "And she's never acted like a sister to you."

"That's disgusting," he growled. "She's married to Jacob. It's his child."

"Then why bring her up now? While I'm standing here half-dead after being kidnapped?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd seen a thousand times when he was frustrated. "Because she's worried about you. We both were."

"You have a funny way of showing concern," I muttered, swaying slightly on my feet. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving me dangerously weak.

Aiden noticed, stepping forward to steady me. I flinched away from his touch.

"Don't," I warned.

"Luna, you can barely stand."

"I'd rather crawl than have you touch me right now."

Something flashed in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or anger. With Aiden, it was always hard to tell. His emotions were a storm I'd spent years trying to navigate, only to find myself constantly shipwrecked.

"You're being ridiculous," he said, but his voice had lost some of its edge. "Let me help you."

"Like you helped when I called you from that cellar?" I asked quietly. "When you thought I was playing games?"

He had the decency to look away. "I didn't know."

"You never do, Aiden. That's the problem."

We stood in tense silence, the unconscious kidnapper forgotten at our feet. In the distance, sirens wailed—Aiden must have called the authorities before tracking me.

"There's a lodge about a mile from here," he finally said. "You need rest. Medical attention."

I nodded, too exhausted to argue further. "Fine."

"I'll carry you—"

"I can walk."

His jaw tightened. "Why are you so damn stubborn?"

"Why are you such an ass?" I shot back.

For a moment, something like a smile tugged at his lips. "You're still feisty for someone who just escaped a kidnapping."

"And you're still infuriating for someone who just saved me."

We made our way slowly through the forest, Aiden hovering close enough to catch me if I fell, but respecting my need for space. The silence between us was charged with unspoken words—accusations and apologies neither of us knew how to voice.

By the time we reached Pinewood Lodge, I was barely conscious. The elderly Beta woman took one look at me and rushed to help, guiding me to a room while shooting disapproving glances at Aiden.

"I'll be fine," I told him at the door to my room. "You can go now."

"Luna—"

"Please, Aiden. I need space."

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. "I'll check on you later."

I closed the door without responding, collapsing onto the bed fully clothed. Sleep claimed me instantly, pulling me into blessed darkness.

When I woke hours later, the sun was setting. Someone had cleaned and bandaged my wounds while I slept. Fresh clothes lay folded at the foot of the bed, and a tray of food sat on the nightstand.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I opened it, half-expecting to see the innkeeper.

Instead, Aiden stood there, his expression uncharacteristically soft. For a brief moment, something warm flickered in my chest—a dangerous, familiar feeling I'd been trying to extinguish.

Then I saw her.

Eliza stood just behind him, her perfect blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes wide with what looked like concern. She was everything I wasn't—tall, graceful, human. And now, visibly pregnant.

"Luna, thank God you're okay," she said, stepping forward as if to embrace me.

I stepped back, my momentary softness hardening into ice. "Well, isn't this touching," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You really can't be away from her for even an hour, can you, Aiden?"

His face darkened. "Luna, don't start. Eliza was worried about you too. She wanted to come with me to make sure you were alright."

"Of course she did." I looked between them, noting how naturally they stood together, how Eliza's hand rested on Aiden's arm. "How considerate."

"Luna, please," Eliza began, "I know we've had our differences, but—"

"Differences?" I laughed, the sound sharp enough to make them both flinch. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Aiden's eyes flashed red. "That's enough. You're being childish."

"And you're being predictable." I clutched the blanket tighter around me, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt. "I can't even look at the two of you right now. It makes me sick."

"Luna!" Aiden growled.

"Get out," I said quietly. "Both of you. Just get the hell out."

Eliza had the decency to look embarrassed, tugging at Aiden's sleeve. "Maybe we should go. She needs rest."

"Oh, now you're concerned about what I need?" I stepped back, hand on the door. "Three years too late, Eliza. And you," I turned to Aiden, "twenty-two years too late."

Before either could respond, I slammed the door in their faces, the sound reverberating through my body like a final note in a sad song.

Through the door, I heard their muffled voices—Eliza's soft placation, Aiden's frustrated growl. Then footsteps, fading away.

I slid down to the floor, back against the door, and let the tears come at last.