A Line in the Dirt

The forest was quiet as Selene made her way back toward the Vale, her cloak trailing behind her like spilled ink across the forest ground. Every footstep felt heavier than the last. The echo of Ronan's voice lingered in her ears, filled with a kind of truth she wasn't ready to name.

"Then I'll keep risking it alone." Those words haunted her more than any threat the vampire court could offer. Because he meant them and worse, she believed him.

As the Vale's towering walls came into view, Selene paused just long enough to erase the scent trail she'd left behind. It wouldn't be enough to fool someone like Simon forever, but it would buy her time. Time she was quickly running out of.

Back at the outer woods—

Riven emerged from the shadows after she disappeared, jaw set tight. He hadn't meant to follow Ronan, but when the pack's second-in-command started wandering toward vampire borders, something was always wrong, and now he had confirmation.

He watched the spot where Selene had stood only minutes before. The vampire– Ronan's vampire.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he shifted into motion, weaving through the trees back toward the camp. He needed to think. He needed to breathe. But most of all, he needed answers.

Simon paced the length of his private chambers, his mood dark and poisonous. His eyes burned with quiet fury as he replayed every word Selene had said to him earlier, her indifference, her silence, her distance.

'She's hiding something,' he thought

He had known her for too long. Known the shape of her thoughts, the soft tremble of hesitation that always came before a lie.

And something had shifted in her, something was wrong. He turned sharply and opened the armoire against the wall, revealing a velvet-lined drawer full of aged scrolls and relics. His fingers found a small, enchanted mirror—used by informants during times of war. 

If she won't speak the truth, he thought coldly, then I'll uncover it myself.

Simon whispered a name, an old name into the glass.

And the shadows answered.

Later that night, in the wolf stronghold

Ronan stood near the cliffside overlooking the valley below, arms crossed as the wind tangled through his hair. His thoughts were a warzone. He didn't hear Riven's approach at first. But his friend made no effort to be quiet.

"You want to tell me what the hell you're doing?" Riven said, voice edged with steel.

Ronan didn't turn. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I followed you."

Ronan sighed. "Of course you did."

"She's a vampire, Ronan. Not just any vampire—she's court-blooded. Do you realize how bad this looks? How bad it is?"

Ronan finally turned, eyes meeting Riven's. "I know exactly what it is."

Riven's hands curled into fists. "Then why aren't you running from it?"

There was silence. Wind. The soft howl of a distant wolf.

And then Ronan answered, voice low and steady. "Because she didn't run either."

Riven stared at him, stunned. "You're serious about this."

"I don't know what I am yet," Ronan admitted. "But something's happening, Riven. She doesn't want war. And I think she's one of the few who has the power to stop it."

Riven looked away, conflicted. "You think one vampire will change anything?"

"I think she's already started to."

Riven didn't answer right away. But when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"She'll get you killed."

"Maybe," Ronan said. "But so will standing still."

The Vale's great stone corridors were colder than usual tonight.

Selene walked slowly through the western wing of the fortress, her fingers grazing the carved wall as if it might ground her. She should've gone straight to her chambers, but sleep felt foreign. She was still too full—of questions, of emotion, of him.

Her footsteps echoed as she moved, each one louder in her mind than in the hallway. "I shouldn't have gone back to him." But she had. "I shouldn't have looked at him that way." But she did. 

And now… I can't stop.

Selene paused outside one of the arched windows and looked out at the forest that separated the Vale from the werewolf territories. The moon had begun to slip behind clouds, but she could still see the tree line, cloaked in shadow.

It didn't feel like the border of a battlefield anymore. It felt like a tether, a place that pulled at the edges of her soul.

She pressed her palm against the cold stone beneath the window and tried to breathe. But everything inside her was fraying. Torn between instinct and desire, between duty and him. 

"He looked at me like I was more than a name. More than a bloodline, more than a pawn in this ancient game, and the worst part? I wanted him to." She turned from the window and began to walk faster as if she could outrun the rising panic.

Simon was watching her. He always was.

And Lucien, Lucien would never forgive her if he found out. He hated the wolves with reason. He'd lost people to them, friends. His faith in the vampire cause was all he had left.

But even as Selene tried to remember the teachings of the court, the long lectures about honor and vengeance and blood ties—her thoughts kept circling back to that one moment in the clearing.

To Ronan's words. 

And the ache in her chest when she realized she didn't want him to.

She reached her room and pushed the heavy door open, slipping inside and locking it behind her. The fire was low, casting flickers of light across the walls. She walked over to her desk, sat down, and opened the old journal she hadn't touched in months.

The ink smeared slightly under her quill as she began to write. "The line between love and betrayal isn't a line at all. It's a blur, a storm, a breath caught in the dark and I don't know which side of it I'm standing on anymore."

She closed the book with trembling fingers and stared at the fire until her vision blurred. And then, without meaning to, she whispered into the silence: 

"What are we doing, Ronan?"

There was no answer.

Just the sound of her heartbeat and the distant, howling wind outside.