Chapter 2 The Rogue’s Eyes

The first thing I noticed when he stopped breathing was the quiet. The forest—always alive with whispers, rustles, and distant howls—went utterly still, as if the night itself was holding its breath.

“Kieran,” I whispered, even though I didn’t know his name yet.

The man in my arms was cold, his pulse faint beneath my fingers. Blood soaked through the torn fabric at his side, black in the moonlight. I tore a strip from my cloak, pressing it against the wound, whispering prayers to the Moon Goddess under my breath even though I wasn’t sure She was listening to me anymore.

“Don’t die,” I murmured. “Not here. Not before I understand what you are.”

The irony of it all didn’t escape me. I was supposed to be the Luna of the Crescent Moon Pack. My bond ceremony was hours away. And here I was, kneeling in the dirt, saving a rogue—a crime punishable by exile, if not death.

He stirred slightly, his lips parting in a low groan.

“Stay still,” I said, pressing harder on the wound. “You’re safe. Just—don’t move.”

His eyes fluttered open then, and the world tilted. Those eyes—silver-blue, like ice catching fire—locked on mine. Something ancient and electric pulsed between us. For a heartbeat, I swore I felt my wolf bow inside me, as if she recognized him.

“Why… are you helping me?” he rasped. His voice was rough, deep, edged with something dangerous.

“Because I don’t want another body on my conscience,” I whispered.

He gave a low, humorless laugh that turned into a cough. “That’s a lie.”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t save a rogue because of guilt. You save him because you feel it too.” His hand shot out, gripping my wrist—not in aggression, but desperation. “You feel it, don’t you?”

I wanted to pull away. I should have. But I didn’t. My pulse thundered, and the air between us seemed to hum, thick and alive.

Before I could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed through the trees—faint but approaching.

Pack guards.

My breath caught. “Shit.”

If they found him here—if they found me with him—it wouldn’t matter who I was. Darius’s Luna or not, there would be consequences.

I looked back down at the stranger. “You have to move.”

He tried to push himself up but collapsed again, teeth gritted. “I can’t.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

It took everything in me to haul him upright, his weight pressing against me like stone. He was taller than Darius, heavier too, his skin fever-hot despite the chill. My legs trembled as I dragged him toward a hollow near an old oak. My wolf stirred again, offering strength, lending me her power.

The guards’ voices were closer now.

“Did you scent something?” one asked.

“Maybe a rogue. Alpha said to stay alert before the ceremony.”

I pressed the rogue’s body against the hollow, crouching low beside him, my hand instinctively covering his mouth. His breath came ragged against my palm, warm and uneven. The scent of pine and rain clung to him—a wild, unfamiliar mix that made my heartbeat lose its rhythm.

The guards passed within meters of us. I held my breath. The rogue’s eyes never left mine. When the voices finally faded, I let out the air I’d been holding.

“Why are you here?” I asked, still whispering. “Rogues don’t cross Crescent borders unless they’re suicidal.”

He hesitated, then gave a faint smirk. “Maybe I was.”

“That’s not an answer.”

His gaze softened, though there was exhaustion beneath it. “I didn’t come to start a fight, Luna. I came to find something that was taken from me.”

“Something?”

“Someone.”

A chill slid down my spine. “Who?”

His lips parted, but then his body went slack again, consciousness slipping away. I caught his head before it hit the ground.

“Kieran,” I said the name softly—though I didn’t know where it came from. It simply felt right. The moment I said it, something deep in my chest clenched painfully, like a chord being struck.

I stayed there for a long time, torn between reason and instinct. I should have called the guards. I should have run. Instead, I wrapped my cloak tighter around him and whispered, “You’ll live. I’ll make sure of it.”

By dawn, the forest had thinned into a silvery mist. I guided him to an abandoned hut on the outskirts of the border—one I used to sneak to as a child when I wanted to be alone. The wooden door creaked as I pushed it open, dust swirling in the pale light.

I laid him down on a blanket, checked his wound again, and cleaned it with trembling hands. Each touch made the connection between us hum louder, stronger, as if the Moon herself was watching.

When he stirred again hours later, I was half asleep beside him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured.

I looked up, startled. “You’re awake.”

“Unfortunately,” he rasped. His eyes found me again, and something flickered there—something like curiosity, pain, and recognition all at once. “You’re risking everything.”

“Maybe I already have.”

He laughed softly, a sound both bitter and beautiful. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Then tell me.”

“Kieran.”

The name sent a strange ache through me, confirming what my heart had whispered hours before.

“Lyra,” I said, before realizing I’d just offered him something precious—my real name, the name known only to my pack.

His lips curved faintly. “Lyra,” he repeated, like he was tasting it. “The Luna of Crescent Moon.”

My throat tightened. “Not yet.”

“But soon.” His gaze darkened. “And when that happens, you’ll belong to him.”

“Belonging isn’t the same as love.”

Kieran’s eyes met mine again, sharp, assessing. “Then what is it you really want, Luna?”

The question hit me like lightning. What did I want? Freedom? Love? To feel something real—something that didn’t come with duty and oaths and the weight of a thousand expectations?

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t dare.

“I should go,” I said instead, standing abruptly. “If anyone sees me here—”

He caught my wrist, his grip surprisingly gentle this time. “Don’t come back,” he said quietly. “The next time they find me, they won’t be as merciful as you.”

“I’m not known for mercy,” I said, forcing a smile.

But he just looked at me, long and deep, and said, “No. You’re known for being brave.”

That shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did.

I left before my heart could betray me further.

By the time I reached the pack house, dawn had turned to gold. The courtyard was filled with preparations—the scent of flowers, the hum of excitement. Darius stood near the steps, giving orders to the guards. His presence filled the air like a storm—commanding, magnetic, impossible to ignore.

His eyes found mine instantly.

“Where were you?” he asked. His tone was calm, but his jaw tightened.

I swallowed. “Just… clearing my head.”

His gaze swept over me, sharp as claws. “You shouldn’t wander alone before the ceremony. There were reports of rogues near the border.”

My pulse skipped. “I heard.”

He stepped closer, his scent—cedar, smoke, dominance—wrapping around me. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering just long enough to remind me that I belonged to him.

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters,” he said, softer now. “After tonight, nothing will come between us.”

I nodded, but inside, my heart whispered a truth I couldn’t silence.

Something already had.

That night, as the pack gathered under the full moon for the bond ceremony, I stood beside Darius in my silver gown, my hands trembling beneath the fabric. The Moon’s light burned hotter than usual, her power pulsing through the clearing like a living thing.

I should’ve felt honored. I should’ve felt ready.

But all I could see were eyes the color of stormlight and the way my name had sounded on his lips.

When Darius pressed his mark against my skin, I felt the bond take root—but instead of warmth, I felt a fracture. A divide.

Because while my body stood beside my mate, my soul was still in the forest.

Still with the rogue.

Still whispering his name under the moonlight.

Kieran.