The Blood on his Hands

Everything around us seemed to pause. The wind carried a sense of danger long before I understood it. The air felt heavy, like the moment before a storm hit. The moonlight felt too clear, revealing truths I hadn't yet faced.

Darius stood in front of me, his body tense and ready. He had always been my protector. The one I relied on when everything felt unstable. But as the night closed in and I heard wolves howling, I felt a chill.

He wasn't here to protect me. He was using me.

The weight of the night pressed down on my chest, my pulse hammering against my ribs. The scent of iron lingered in the air—blood, thick and cloying, wrapping around me like invisible chains. It wasn't from the rogue wolves. It wasn't from an unseen battle.

 It came from Darius.

For the first time, he didn't make me feel safe. He was breathing too evenly for a man who should have been ready for war, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was preparing for something far worse than a fight.

Then I heard another howl. This one sounded different.

The rogues weren't here to attack us. They were here for me.

Darius moved slightly. Moonlight gleamed off something in his hand. My breath caught in my throat. The realization hit me hard—blood. Fresh and unmistakable.

"Darius…" My voice was hardly heard, as if speaking the truth would make it real.

His shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn to face me. He didn't need to. The silence between us had always been its kind of language, and now, it was screaming.

I stepped back, the ground feeling soft beneath my feet the weight of betrayal weighed me down. Every part of me screamed to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there and let the truth rip me apart. But I couldn't move. Not yet. Not until I understood why.

He finally faced me, his expression hidden in shadows. The face I had trusted with everything. The hands that had held me steady in battle.

Now marked by a crime I didn't want to say out loud.

"I had no choice," he said, his voice rough.

It was a lie. 

Choices are what make us who we are. Darius had made his.

Then I heard some rustling in the trees. Figures stepped out of the dark. Their eyes glowed like fire. They weren't attacking. They were waiting. Waiting for him. Waiting for me.

"You knew," I said. My words felt like ashes. "You led me here."

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, I saw it. Regret. A war waging behind his eyes, one that had already been lost before I ever realized it had begun.

The night felt heavy. The rogues surrounded us like hunters closing in on prey. But my fear wasn't about them.

It was about Darius, the man standing right in front of me.

My heart raced, wild and erratic, trying to escape a body frozen in disbelief. Every memory I had of him—of us—fractured and shattered beneath the weight of this moment. Darius had never betrayed me before. He had been my anchor, my constant.

But now, with blood on his hands under the moonlight, I realized something.

The man I trusted was gone. The man before me had made sure of it.

Something inside me broke.

I lunged at him, my muscles burning with anger. But Darius was quicker. He grabbed my wrist, his grip strong. I thought he would fight me. Instead, he did something unexpected.

He let me go.

I stumbled back, surprised. He wasn't stopping me. 

He was giving me a chance to run.

"Go," he murmured. I barely heard him. "Now."

The rogues sensed the change. This wasn't what they expected.

Neither was I.

I didn't run. I fought.

The first rogue jumped at me, but I was already moving. I struck where he had been just moments ago. Fur and sweat filled the air as we clashed. It was chaos, fueled by instinct and rage. But through it all, Darius watched.

He didn't join the fight. He stood still, caught between the choice he made and one he hadn't yet faced.

A rogue bit my shoulder, pain shooting through me. I twisted, slamming my elbow into his throat, sending him staggering. Blood ran down my arm, mixing with the dirt beneath me.

I sensed a change in the air. The rogues realized this wasn't going as planned. They expected me to break. To run. 

But I had nothing left to lose except the truth.

Darius shifted, not toward me or the rogues, but toward the trees. He was leaving.

Coward.

Rage flowed through me, sharp and fierce. He couldn't just walk away from this. Not from me or the blood on his hands.

I charged, taking down the last rogue in my way. My breathing was labored. My body ached. But none of that mattered. I had to reach him. He had to face what he had done.

But before I could get to him, I heard a new sound.

A howl. Not from the rogues. Not from any pack I recognized.

It was deep. Raw. Old.

And it was close.

The rogues froze. Darius did too. At that moment, I saw something flash across his face.

Fear.

Not for me or the fight. But for whatever was coming.

The ground shook like the earth itself was scared. A deep growl came from the trees. And at the edge of the shadows, I saw eyes. Glowing. Watching.

Not wolves. Not human.

Something else.

Something ancient. And it wasn't here to talk.

It was here for blood.

The rogues didn't hesitate. They ran.

Darius didn't move, his expression torn between recognition and horror.

"Run," he said. But this time, it was also for himself.

The first figure stepped into the light, and it felt like ice in the air.

Everything was about to change.

And none of us were ready for what was coming.