Whispers Among the Trees

Stilla's POV

Maybe I should turn back.

This was a stupid decision.

I was alone, deep in the heart of the forest, and I had no idea what dangers lurked here. Fear began crawling up my spine.

(I don't understand why you're doing this. Don't you know the mate bond causes pain when we distance ourselves from our mate? He's hurting too.)

Glady's voice was sharp with anger.

"I already did it, it's done. What do you want me to do now?" I snapped.

(I warned you not to go, but you never listen. Don't expect me to help clean up your mess now.)

And with that, she went silent—completely withdrawing from our connection.

I froze.

A sudden rustle behind me made my whole body stiffen.

"Glady?" I whispered. Nothing.

God, what could that be?

I slowly turned around—and stared straight into the eyes of a massive bear.

Oh, great. A bear. What a perfect start to my rebellious escape.

It looked directly at me, unmoving, its gaze intense. I couldn't move, couldn't think. My brain scrambled to come up with a plan, but I came up empty.

I stepped back, cautiously, my eyes still locked on it. The moment I shifted, it lunged toward me with terrifying speed. I tried to run—but my foot caught, and I fell to the ground.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the end.

Death. Maybe this was always how it was meant to end.

But seconds passed... and nothing.

When I opened my eyes, the bear lay dead on the ground—its throat torn open. Beside it stood a massive wolf, its coat a dark smoky gray. It was enormous.

(Mate. Mate! Let me out—I must see our mate!)

Glady was practically screaming now, desperate and wild.

In your dreams, I snapped at her. You ignored me earlier—now it's my turn.

I slammed a mental barrier shut.

When I looked up again, the wolf was gone—replaced by a man stepping out from behind the trees, shirtless, muscles tense, his pants the only thing keeping this from being a scandal. Of course, he had to be this breathtaking right now. I was losing my mind.

He knelt down in front of me.

"Are you alright? Did you get hurt?" His voice was low, concerned.

"I'm fine," I said quickly.

"Good. I'm carrying you." He leaned closer.

Instinctively, I backed away.

He shut his eyes for a brief second, a flicker of pain passing over his face.

"I see. Very well then. Please, get up so we can go. My patience is wearing thin."

I tried... but pain shot through my ankle and I winced.

"Alpha?" I murmured.

"Yes?"

"I... I'm sorry. Can you help me up? I think I twisted my ankle."

He crouched again, examining it gently.

"It's just a light sprain. But you shouldn't walk on it." He looked up, his voice a touch sharper. "You did ask for help. Remember that."

"What does that mean? I didn't—"

Before I could finish, he scooped me into his arms. I yelped and clung to his neck out of pure reflex.

He began walking.

Mortified, I realized I was still holding onto him and quickly pulled my arms away.

"Sorry—I didn't mean—" I mumbled.

"Put them back," he said flatly. "Unless you want your punishment to be worse."

"Punishment? What punishment?"

"For running away."

"I didn't mean to," I whispered. "I just thought… maybe it was for the best. Everyone thinks I'm not suited for this."

He suddenly stopped. His face was close—too close.

"Everyone?" he asked, voice low and dangerous. "Care to give me names, my dear mate? Because I only know of one name. Seems there are more."

"There's no one," I lied, voice trembling. "It's just…"

I turned my gaze away.

"How far are we from your castle?"

"Our castle," he corrected, resuming his stride.

"What?"

"I said our castle. And we're nearly there. Since you won't tell me who's been feeding you these lies, fine. I'll find out myself. But that doesn't mean you're off the hook."

What kind of punishment was he talking about? Whipping? Starvation? Something worse?

A shiver ran through me.

He noticed.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, just... can I know what the punishment is?"

"Hmm… let me think. Your punishment will be…" He paused, grinning slightly. "I'm adding two extra meals to your daily three. You're way too light. Are you sure your old pack actually fed you? You feel more like a kitten than a werewolf."

What kind of punishment is that?

"Are you joking?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"…No."

"Then why ask?"

"That's not how punishments work!"

He stopped again and looked at me.

"Have you been punished before? For what? How?"

I looked down, silent.

"There's something you're not telling me," he said, his voice gentler now. "I can hear your heart racing. Your body's shaking. Alright. You don't have to say anything now. But just… calm down, okay?"

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against mine.

A strange spark passed between us—and suddenly, everything inside me quieted.

"Luna, are you alright?"

We both turned toward the voice. A man stood nearby. I recognized him vaguely, but couldn't place him.

"Stilla, this is Hunter—our Beta and my closest friend," Lucas said.

Hunter gave a warm smile and bowed slightly.

"It's an honor to meet you, Your Grace."

"The honor's mine. Just call me Stilla."

Lucas threw him a sharp look I didn't understand before he marched toward the castle.

As we entered, two women rushed toward us—Andrea and Lucas's mother. They looked me over with frantic concern while Lucas, annoyed, brushed them off and continued carrying me upstairs.

"I'm fine, really," I told them. "You can put me down."

Lucas ignored me.

He placed me gently on the bed. Andrea and his mother took either side of me while he stood nearby, leaning against the wall, watching.

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" his mother asked, holding my hand.

"I'm alright, just a twisted ankle."

"Stop calling me that. Call me Mom."

"She won't," Lucas said, smiling faintly. "Takes a while. Trust me."

"That's okay. She'll get used to it eventually," his mother said. "From what I know, you only have one family member left—Luna Julia, right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"May I ask… what happened to your parents?"

"They died long ago. Or rather… they were murdered."

I dropped my gaze to my hands.

"I'm so sorry. I won't ask again." She stood. "I'll go get medicine for your ankle. Andrea, help prepare her a bath."

"You really don't need to go through this trouble. There are plenty of maids."

"We want to. Because we care about you. You're family now."

She ran her fingers through my hair gently.

"And besides," Andrea said, nodding toward Lucas, "you see that muscle-head standing there? He's not gonna let anyone else near you anyway."

"I'm heading out for a bit," Lucas said. "You need anything, just ask. Understood?"

I nodded, and he left. Andrea and his mother followed shortly after.

A few minutes later, they returned.

"Here's the medicine. But first—you need a bath," Lucas's mother said kindly.

What? A bath? No, no, no. They'll see the scars. The bruises.

"I'll bathe on my own, thank you. I'm fine."

"Are you shy or something? We're all girls here," Andrea teased.

"It's not that. I can manage on my own."

"Alright, sweetheart. We won't push. Just call if you need anything."

"Thank you."

They left, and I let out a breath of relief before heading to the bathroom.

I sank into the warm water, letting it wash the tension off me. So much had happened.

By the time I dried off and crawled into bed, sleep came over me like a wave, and I gave in to the comfort of silence.