Chapter 1: The Girl and the Cub
The sharp scent of blood lingered heavily in the stale air, mixing with the faint, musty odor of damp concrete. Somewhere, far beyond the thick metal door, muffled voices and hurried footsteps echoed faintly, but inside the small, bare room, the silence was suffocating—broken only by a terrified girl’s desperate screams.
“Blood! Blood—!” Her voice cracked, shrill and urgent, tearing through the stillness like a blade. Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked cheeks, her breath ragged from crying. She pointed frantically toward the dark shape lying motionless in the corner.
“Shut up!” The harsh command was followed by a sharp crack—the sound of a slap striking flesh. The girl’s head jerked sideways, hair whipping around her face, and a choking sob escaped her trembling lips. Her small hands were bound tightly in front, wrists raw and blistered from struggling against the rough, coarse rope.
But despite the searing pain and overwhelming fear, her eyes remained fixed on the bloodied bundle of fur.
The cub.
Its breathing was shallow, each rise and fall of its side faint and uneven. Blood pooled beneath it, spreading dark and thick across the cold floor.
“What the hell is that thing?” one of the kidnappers muttered, his voice rough and laced with disgust as he prodded the limp creature with the tip of his boot.
“Looks like some kind of wolf cub,” another said, squinting into the shadows. “Maybe even a werewolf’s kid. Hell, that’d be valuable.”
The tallest man—the leader, by the way he carried himself—snorted, a cold, humorless laugh escaping him. “It’s just a stray. Worthless. Don’t waste your breath on it. Whatever it is, it’s done for.”
Without warning, he bent down and grabbed the cub by the scruff of its neck. The creature’s body went limp, and with a cruel toss, the man hurled it against the wall. The sickening thud echoed sharply.
The girl flinched violently, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Her chest heaved as she fought back a scream, trying to be silent.
“Did her parents send the ransom yet?” asked the pacing kidnapper, glancing nervously at the closed door.
“One million. They’re probably scrambling right now,” the first man replied with a greedy grin. “Who would’ve thought snatching some quiet rich girl would make us this rich?”
Their cruel laughter bounced off the cold walls, then abruptly ceased as heavy footsteps faded away and the door slammed shut behind them.
Alone.
The girl lay still for a moment, listening to the silence. Then, with trembling resolve, she began to move.
Her body ached — cheek burning, ribs bruised, wrists raw — but none of that mattered. Inch by painful inch, she crawled toward the corner.
Her hands grazed the rough floor, scraping her skin, but she didn’t stop.
The cub lay there, curled and weak. Its side was stained crimson, and every shallow breath it took was a struggle.
“Are you still alive?” she whispered, voice cracked and fragile.
Her bound hands found a scrap of her torn shirt. Pressing it against the worst of the bleeding, she held it there, even as her fingers shook uncontrollably.
Please don’t die. Please don’t leave me alone.
Her heart thundered painfully in her chest. She didn’t know why she cared so deeply — perhaps it was because in this cold, dark room, this small injured creature was the only other soul left who might understand her fear.
For a moment, nothing stirred.
Then, faint but unmistakable, a twitch at the cub’s ear.
Slowly, its eyes fluttered open.
Golden.
Bright and fierce, glowing softly even in the dim light.
The girl’s breath caught in her throat.
The cub lifted its head weakly, sniffing the air. Instead of snarling or recoiling, it blinked slowly, recognition dawning in its gaze. Its small nose nudged weakly against her trembling hand.
And in that instant, something ancient and powerful stirred beneath the surface — a bond that neither time nor pain could sever.
Mate.
Though the cub was too young to understand the word, his wolf knew. His very soul recognized her as more than just a stranger.
Instead of growling or snapping, the cub leaned into her touch, seeking warmth and comfort.
The girl let out a broken laugh, more sob than sound. “You’re okay,” she whispered through tears. “You’re not dead. You’re not dead.”
She slid back against the wall, letting the cub curl into the hollow of her arms. Though her wrists were bound, she wrapped her arms as best she could, shielding him from the cold.
“My parents will come,” she murmured, voice soft but fierce. “They always come. They have to.”
The cub closed his eyes, his breath steadying as her scent enveloped him — a balm against the cold and pain.
Slowly, the girl and the cub drifted into a restless sleep, broken but unbroken — two souls bound by blood, silence, and something far older than either of them could explain.
---
Twelve Years Later
The wind howled like a living thing over the jagged mountain ridges, sharp and biting through the snow and stone. Far above the human world, where no light reached and no warmth lingered, a lone figure stood at the edge of a crumbling stone outpost.
Tall, broad-shouldered, scarred — he was a warrior shaped by years of blood and loss. His dark cloak whipped violently in the biting wind, but he stood unmoving.
Golden eyes scanned the endless forest below, eyes that had seen more death than peace.
Twelve years.
Twelve long years since he had been that helpless cub, bleeding on cold concrete.
And yet, he remembered everything.
The sting of rope burning his small wrists. The softness of her voice whispering, “Please don’t die.”
The trembling hands pressing a torn shirt against his wound.
She had been his first memory of kindness. The only reason he had survived.
He had never known her name.
But her scent was forever etched into his soul.
Kyle's fists clenched at his sides, nails threatening to extend as the wolf beneath his skin stirred restlessly.
For years, he had trained, fought, hunted. He had slain monsters — beast and man alike — not for glory or power, but for one purpose:
To find her again.
To protect her.
To ensure no one would ever hurt her like those men did.
His pack had found him barely alive that night — half-conscious, bleeding, and bound by a strange, unbreakable bond he could neither explain nor deny.
They never found the girl.
They said she was a ghost. A hallucination born of trauma.
But his heart knew the truth.
Somewhere, she lived.
And she was still his.
“I’m not that cub anymore,” Kyle growled under his breath, voice rough with promise. “But you’re still mine.”
The wind shifted.
His head snapped up.
A scent — faint, fragile, unmistakable — teased the edge of his senses.
Her.
Kyle stepped forward, muscles coiled, eyes blazing with determination.
Then, he ran — silent and swift — a shadow melting into the dark forest.
---
Back in the Human Town
Aira stood in the attic of her family’s old house, surrounded by dust motes dancing in the pale afternoon light. The smell of old wood, faded perfume, and forgotten memories clung to every corner.
She hadn’t been home in years.
Boarding schools, overseas studies, therapy she hadn’t wanted but needed.
But she was back.
Her parents were gone.
Everyone said it was an accident.
But Aira didn’t believe in easy endings anymore.
She sifted through worn boxes and tattered books, searching for something she couldn’t name.
Then, her fingers brushed against a small, bloodstained shirt — torn, stiff with dried blood.
Her breath caught.
Flashes of memory crashed through her mind: a cold floor, a rope binding her wrists, a sharp slap, and golden eyes glowing in the dark.
A wolf?
No.
Not just a wolf.
Her hands clenched the shirt tightly to her chest as she sank to the floor.
“It was real,” she whispered.
Deep inside, a heat curled low in her stomach — a presence, a pull, a pressure.
Like she was being watched.
Or waited for.
Far away, beneath the shadowed forest that bordered her town, a lone wolf raised his head.
His howl rose long and low, filled with pain and longing.
And the world shifted.
