They did not stop moving until nightfall.
Kael led them deeper into the forest, away from known paths, choosing routes only an Alpha King trained for war would know. The trees grew denser, the air colder. By the time the moon rose, Aria's legs ached and her head throbbed—not from exhaustion alone, but from the bond.
It would not settle.
Every step pulled at her chest, a low, constant pressure, as if something inside her was waiting for permission to snap shut.
Finally, Kael halted near a shallow ravine where the earth dipped and curved inward, hidden from most angles. He swept the area with his senses, jaw tight, before nodding once.
"We rest here."
Aria sank onto a fallen log, wrapping her arms around herself. "Lucen didn't lie," she said quietly. "Others will feel it too."
Kael crouched across from her, elbows on his knees. "Yes."
"And they'll come."
"Yes."
The honesty frightened her more than denial would have.
She stared into the darkness. "You said my power was inherited—or claimed."
Kael's silence stretched too long.
"Kael."
He exhaled slowly. "There are old bloodlines," he said. "Predating packs as we know them. They were feared because their power didn't obey hierarchy. Omegas born into them were… catalysts."
Her breath caught. "Catalysts for what?"
"For change," he said grimly. "Or collapse."
Aria laughed weakly. "That's encouraging."
Kael met her gaze. "Those bloodlines were hunted. Erased. Or absorbed into ruling packs through forced bonds."
Her stomach turned. "You're saying I was meant to be claimed."
"I'm saying others will believe they have a right to you."
The bond flared at his words, hot and insistent, as if offended by the idea.
Aria pressed a hand to her chest. "It's getting worse."
Kael stood abruptly. "You're too close."
"What?"
"The bond," he said tightly. "Proximity is feeding it."
"So you want me to—what—sit alone in the dark?"
"I want you alive," he snapped, then immediately softened. "I'll keep watch. You need to sleep."
Sleep felt impossible, but exhaustion won.
She lay down on the cool earth, pulling her cloak tighter, trying to ignore the empty ache when Kael put distance between them.
Minutes passed.
Then the bond surged.
Aria bolted upright with a gasp, heat flooding her veins, sharp and unrelenting. Her vision blurred, symbols flashing behind her eyes—ancient, burning, wrong.
"Kael!" she cried.
He was at her side instantly, gripping her arms as power spilled from her uncontrollably. The ground trembled beneath them, stones lifting slightly before crashing back down.
"Aria, focus on me," he said urgently.
"I can't stop it," she gasped. "It wants—"
Her voice broke.
"It wants you."
Kael froze.
The bond screamed.
Instinct took over.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as the pressure spiked to a breaking point. His own restraint shattered, Alpha energy flooding outward, clashing violently with hers.
The forest bowed.
Trees groaned.
For one terrifying moment, Aria felt the bond reach for completion—threads snapping into place, ancient and irreversible.
"Stop," she sobbed. "Please—"
Kael clenched his jaw, pain etched across his face. "If I let go now, it will break you."
"Then let it take me."
"No."
With a guttural growl, Kael forced his power inward, suppressing it brutally. Blood trickled from his nose as the bond recoiled violently, snapping back but not sealing.
The forest went still.
Aria collapsed against him, shaking.
For a long time, Kael simply held her, breath ragged, control barely intact.
"That," he said hoarsely, "was the bond trying to finalize."
She looked up at him, terrified. "Because we're unclaimed?"
"Because it believes rejection is no longer viable," he said. "Old bonds don't tolerate indecision."
Her chest ached. "Then what do we do?"
Kael stared into the dark. "We find answers before it decides for us."
A sharp howl echoed in the distance.
Not Nightfang.
Kael stiffened. "They're closer than I thought."
Aria's fear sharpened. "Lucen?"
"Not him," Kael said. "Scouts."
"How many?"
"At least three packs would pay dearly for what you are," he said quietly. "And at least one council faction would prefer you disappear."
Her blood ran cold. "The council?"
"Yes," he said. "Your existence destabilizes power structures."
"So I'm a political problem now."
"You always were," he said gently. "You just didn't know it."
She laughed shakily. "I wanted a quiet life."
Kael's expression softened, something like regret passing through his eyes. "I should have protected you sooner."
"You did," she said. "You rejected me."
His jaw tightened. "That may have been my greatest mistake."
Another howl—closer.
Kael stood, offering her his hand. "We move. Now."
As she took it, the bond pulsed—less violent, but watchful.
Waiting.
Not broken.
Not sealed.
But demanding resolution.
And somewhere in the dark, forces far older than either of them were already adjusting their plans.