The Truth

Kael

I smelled her before I saw her.

The scent drifted on the cool night breeze, reaching me like a whisper through the trees. It was delicate, laced with wildflowers and something else—something deeper, something I shouldn't have recognized, yet did. It called to me in a way I couldn't ignore, a pull as inevitable as the tide meeting the shore. Since the night we met, it had been haunting me, lingering in the back of my mind, impossible to shake.

And now, she was here again.

Standing at the very edge of the village, dangerously close to the forest, close enough to the shadows where I waited, watching. Too close.

Foolish.

A muscle in my jaw tightened as I remained perfectly still, concealed in the darkness. She had no idea what she was doing, no idea how fragile she was in a world like mine. Her kind did not belong here, not in the places where the laws of men held no power. And yet, despite all the danger, despite what had happened that night, she had come back.

I could feel my wolf, Fenrir, stirring beneath my skin, restless and agitated. He did not like this.

She should have forgotten me. Moved on. Pretended none of it was real.

But she hadn't.

And neither had I.

A low growl rumbled in my chest, vibrating through my ribs. It wasn't one of anger, nor was it one of warning. It was something else. Something uncertain.

Fenrir paced inside me, unsettled. She should not be here, he snarled. She is not safe.

I know.

But neither of us turned away.

Then, she took a step forward.

Toward me.

Something inside me snapped.

Before I could stop myself, before logic or reason could take hold, I stepped out of the shadows.

She gasped, her breath catching as our eyes met.

No fear.

Just something else. Something just as dangerous.

I clenched my jaw. "You shouldn't be here," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

She lifted her chin slightly, defiance flickering in her eyes. "Neither should you."

The corner of my mouth twitched despite myself. Bold. Reckless. She was playing with fire, and she didn't even realize it. Or maybe she did.

And that was the problem.

Fenrir let out a low growl in my mind, his instincts warring with my own. She asks for things she does not understand.

And she did.

"You're looking for something," I said, my voice quieter this time.

She hesitated before answering. "Answers."

I took a slow, deliberate step forward. "You won't like them."

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but she held her ground, didn't retreat, didn't waver. "I need to know the truth."

The truth.

If only she knew how much of it was already buried inside her, running through her blood, carved into her past like scars she had yet to uncover.

Fenrir rumbled in my mind, his irritation sharp. This is a mistake.

Maybe it was.

But I couldn't ignore the way she looked at me, as if she already knew I held something she was meant to find.

"Fine," I said, voice quieter now. "But once you know, there's no going back."

Still, she didn't flinch. Didn't waver. And that's how I knew—

This was only the beginning.

Then she asked the question I should have expected but didn't.

"The attack in the village," she said, her voice edged with something unreadable. "Was it you?"

Silence stretched between us. A cold wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves like whispered warnings.

I stiffened. Fenrir's growl rolled through me, deep and low. She does not know what she is asking.

No, she didn't.

And yet, she had asked anyway.

I met her gaze, unflinching. "Do you really want the answer to that?"

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Yes."

I sighed, tilting my head slightly. "And if I said yes, what would you do?"

Her breath caught, but she didn't look away.

I took another step, closing the space between us. Close enough to see the way her pulse jumped at her throat. Close enough that Fenrir let out another growl, this one different. Almost… intrigued.

"If I were the one responsible," I murmured, my voice a thread of danger, "you wouldn't be standing here asking me."

She exhaled slowly. "Then who?"

That was the real question.

And the real danger.

Because the truth?

The truth was that I wasn't the one who had attacked the village.

But I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop the one who would do it next.