Hunting My Outcast Luna

Nine: Zarya

I had no choice but to move. I’d waited long enough, two days to long. The hidden cave I’d holed up in had been safe for a while, but the longer I stayed in one place, the greater the chance of being found. And I refused to be dragged back.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine as I moved through the forest. My muscles ached from sleeping on the cold ground, but I ignored it. Survival didn’t care if I was comfortable.

I stuck close to the shadows, ears sharp for any signs of movement. The first two days after my escape had been quiet—too quiet. No patrols. No rogues. No hunters. That silence had started to unnerve me. Either I’d gotten lucky, or something was pushing everyone to keep their distance.

Then, I heard them. Voices.

I froze, lowering myself into the underbrush. Two figures stood near a fallen log, their conversation hushed but urgent.

As I crouched lower in the underbrush, my eyes flicked between the two figures. The woman, had an air of quiet strength about her. Dark auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, a contrast to the sharp, determined gleam in her hazel eyes. She wasn’t tall, but she carried herself with confidence, her lean frame tense with emotion. Thesunlightt filtering through the trees highlighted the faint freckles on her nose, and despite her troubled expression, she was striking.

The man was her opposite in many ways. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with an edge of danger that clung to him like a second skin. His dark, shoulder-length hair was tied back messily, revealing sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw dusted with stubble. His eyes, an intense storm-gray, narrowed as they studied me, calculating and wary. His clothes were simple, worn leather and dark fabric suited for someone who lived on the outskirts of society, but there was an undeniable presence to him. A rogue, but not just any rogue—a leader.

The woman’s voice wavered. “I don’t want to lose you, but… you know my father will never allow this.”

The man—his voice rough, edged with frustration—scoffed. “Then maybe you should reject me now and save us both the pain.”

A pause. The woman sounded heartbroken. “Don’t say that.”

I should’ve left. Should’ve kept moving. But something about them made me stay.

A sudden rustle in the brush made my heart jump. I held my breath, pressing myself lower to the ground, but it was too late.

His sharp eyes locked onto mine through the foliage.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, stepping forward. “You were listening to us.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t friendly either.

I sighed, knowing I’d been caught. No use pretending otherwise. I straightened slightly, keeping my hands where he could see them. “Not on purpose.”

“Really?” He crossed his arms. “Because it sure seemed like you were lurking.”

I tilted my head. “I was passing through. You two were talking loud enough to hear.”

The woman stepped closer, studying me with sharp, curious eyes. “Who are you?”

For a moment, I hesitated. How much should I tell them? Trust was a dangerous thing to hand over too quickly. But something about the way the woman watched me—the way she didn’t immediately see me as a threat—made me decide to be honest.

“My name is Zarya,” I said carefully.

“What are you doing out here?” The man still didn’t relax.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of my own exhaustion. “Honestly? I’m just trying to figure out who I am.” I gave them a tired, humorless smile. “For once in my life, I just want to have a choice.”

The woman frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”

I exhaled, glancing between them. “I ran away from Bloodmoon. I left because I was tired of being a slave, tired of being thrown into a cage and forced to fight for my life. I wanted to give myself a choice.”

Silence stretched between us. Finally, the woman spoke. “How much did you hear?”

I lifted a shoulder. “Enough to know that this man might be your mate, but for some reason, your father—who I assume is important—wouldn’t approve.”

Another pause. Then, the woman straightened her shoulders, her voice steady. “I’m Myla, daughter of Alpha Rowen of Stormveil. And this is my mate, Dian.”

My gaze flicked to him, watching as his fingers twitched slightly at his sides.

“A rogue,” he added, his tone laced with defiance.

Ah. That explained the hesitation.

“How far are we from Blackthorn?” I asked.

Myla hesitated before pointing south. “About fifty miles.”

“Why did you run away?” I asked her.

Dian tensed. “That’s none of your business.” He took a step forward, but Myla placed a hand on his arm.

“I trust her, for some reason,” she murmured.

Dian looked at her, his jaw tight. He didn’t argue, but he looked like he was battling with himself. Finally, he relaxed.

Myla gave me a small smile. “Sorry. We’re under a lot of stress. And I’m sorry you heard all that.”

I shrugged. “Want my advice?”

They exchanged glances before nodding.

I inhaled deeply. “If you’re his daughter, then there shouldn’t be any reason for your father not to listen. Most wolves in Lykaeria have been struggling to find their mates.” My voice softened. “Because of the rogues. Because of the fear. No one leaves their pack lands anymore unless they have to. No one risks searching. But somehow, you two found each other.” I met Dian’s gaze. “Do you know how rare that is?”

Dian swallowed hard.

“I spent my whole life in Bloodmoon, surrounded by wolves who didn’t care if I lived or died. A mate bond?” I let out a bitter laugh. “That was something I could never even dream of. But you have it. You’ve been given a gift—one that some wolves wait their entire lives for.”

Myla’s eyes were glassy, her throat working as if she were trying not to cry.

I looked back at Dian. “And you’re willing to throw it away? Just because you’re scared?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t snap at me this time. Instead, he turned, looking at his mate as if seeing her for the first time.

“You were given this bond for a reason,” I pressed on. “You don’t have to be a rogue or a pack wolf. You can just be hers. And she can be yours.”

Myla reached for him, and this time, he didn’t pull away.

I exhaled, tension leaving my shoulders. “Now the real question is—will you fight for it?”

The weight of my words settled between them. Myla was the first to speak.

“She might be right,” Myla said, turning to her mate.

Dian exhaled sharply. “What are we supposed to do, Myla? Just walk in there and say, ‘We’re mates, and we want your blessing. Oh, and by the way, I’m a rogue leader’?” His voice was dry. “Please, think I’m worthy.”

“Actually, yes,” I interrupted. “You might be surprised by the level of respect he has for you. Or he might think you’re an i***t. But either way, Myla, how long have you been gone? He’s probably worried sick, especially with the increase in rogue attacks. No offense,” I glanced at Dian, “but rogues don’t have the best reputation. He’s probably thinking something terrible happened.”

Myla bit her lip. “She’s probably right.” She turned to Dian. “Please. Let’s go to him. He might surprise us both. And your people? They’re amazing. If he just met them, he might see that, too.”

Dian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Alright.”

I smiled. “Good luck. But I should be going now—”

“Wait.” Dian’s voice stopped me. I turned, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” he said. “But I can’t let you leave.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because if you go, you’re walking straight back toward the place you escaped from. And because no one survives alone.” He paused. “Come with us.”

Myla beamed. “Yes! That would be perfect.”

I hesitated—but maybe, for now, I didn’t have to be alone.

Myla took a deep breath, squeezing her mate’s hand before looking back at me. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”

She stepped back like she was preparing to shift but then hesitated. Her brows pulled together as she looked me over. “Wait… you don’t have your wolf yet, do you?”