Stolen Mate

Morana's hut reeked of iron and rot. My arm still throbbed where she'd sliced me, the cut shallow but deliberate. Rylan stood beside me, his blood already sealed in a vial that glinted like a ruby in the witch's clawed hand. She hummed as she shuffled to a shelf cluttered with jars of eyes and teeth, her rune-scarred skin catching the dim light.

"Your *price* is paid," she crooned, plucking a leather-bound book from the mess. Dust cascaded as she tossed it onto the table. "The answers you seek… and the doom they bring."

Rylan reached for it, but I stepped forward. "What is this?"

"A history," Morana said, her milky gaze piercing. "Of wolves who thought they could outrun fate."

The pages crackled as I flipped them, the script jagged and faded. Sketches of wolves mid-transformation, herbs I didn't recognize, symbols that made my eyes ache. Rylan leaned over my shoulder, his breath warm. "There."

He stabbed a finger at a passage titled *Scent Thievery and Its Undoing*. My pulse quickened.

*To reclaim stolen essence, three things are required:*

*1. The blood of the thief.*

*2. The petal of a lunar flower, bathed in moonlight.*

*3. The bond's anchor—scent of the true mate, freely given.*

"Lunar flower," Rylan muttered. "Never heard of it."

Morana chuckled. "Grows in Nightshade's heart. Rare. *Protected*."

Ice slid down my spine. Nightshade territory. Where Rylan's former pack would skin us alive.

"And the bond's anchor?" I asked.

The witch's grin widened. "What was stolen from you, girl. Lavender. Moonlight. *His* recognition."

*Kieran.* My chest tightened. Even if we reversed the theft, he'd have to *choose* to acknowledge me. To reject Lila.

Rylan snapped the book shut. "Where's the ritual?"

Morana snatched it back, cradling it like a child. "You've had your taste. The rest requires another trade."

"We gave you blood," I said coldly.

"And I gave you hope." She retreated into the shadows. "Return with the flower… and we'll discuss *cost*."

***

The woods felt darker on the return trip. I clutched the copied notes—Rylan's hasty scrawl detailing the lunar flower—as if they could ward off the chill.

"We'll need to leave tonight," he said, ducking under a low branch. "Beat the storms."

I halted. "We can't just march into Nightshade. They'll smell you."

"They'll smell *you* sooner." He glanced at me, unreadable. "Scentless."

The word still stung. "Then it's suicide."

"You'd rather stay? Play servant to that liar?"

"I'd rather not die *for* her!"

He turned, eyes blazing. "This isn't just about her. It's about you. What you're owed."

The fierceness in his voice startled me. My wolf stirred, a flicker of warmth in the void.

"Why do you care?" I whispered.

He looked away. "I don't. But I've seen what happens when wolves live as ghosts. It's worse than death."

A howl cut through the trees—distant, but closing in. Silvermoon patrol.

Rylan grabbed my hand, yanking me off the path. We crouched in the brush, hearts pounding in sync, as three wolves blurred past. Kieran's scent lingered in their wake, sharp and pine-edged.

*He's near.*

Rylan's grip tightened. "Breathe."

I hadn't realized I'd stopped.

***

We reached the watchtower as the first stars pierced the sky. Rylan lit a stolen lantern, its glow gilding the pages.

"The lunar flower blooms under the full moon," I read, tracing his writing. "Harvested only by a true mate's hand."

He scowled. "Convenient."

"If Lila's your true mate, you could—"

"No." The word was a snarl. "That bond's dead."

"But the flower requires—"

"I'm not his." Lila's voice slithered from the doorway.

We froze. She leaned against the frame, Kieran's cloak draped like a second skin, my stolen lavender scent cloying the air. Her smile was a razor. "Did you miss me?"

Rylan stepped in front of me, dagger drawn. "How'd you find us?"

"You're not the only one who tracks scents." Her gaze slid to me. "Though yours is… lacking."

"What do you want?" I hissed.

"To warn you." She toyed with a crimson ribbon. "Nightshade knows you're coming. They've laid traps. Such a shame if you… stumbled into one."

Rylan lunged. She danced back, laughing.

"Tsk. Still feral, Rylan? Some things never change."

"You sold us out," he growled.

"I survived." Her eyes met mine, cold and final. "Stay in your shadows, Elara. Or I'll bury you in them."

She melted into the night, her threat clinging like frost.

Rylan slammed the dagger into the wall. "We leave now."

"She'll alert the patrols—"

"Then we run faster."

I stared at the notes, the lunar flower's sketch blurring. *Blood of the thief. Scent of the true mate.*

Kieran's face flashed in my mind—storm-gray eyes, scarred brow. A stranger who held my soul.

"We run," I agreed.

The ghost in me was ready to burn.