The Rogue's Luna

Remember

Liora didn’t say much when I told her we were taking the truck back down the ridge. She didn’t argue, she didn’t roll her eyes, she didn’t even give me one of those sharp little retorts she was so good at. She just grabbed the sweater I had gotten her and followed me out the door. She wasn’t interested. I could tell. Her steps were slow, her gaze fixed somewhere past me, like she had decided not to waste the energy on pretending. But she came anyway. The drive started quiet and it stayed quiet. The road, or what passed for one, snaked between the trees, mud slick under the tires from last night’s rain. The truck shuddered every time we hit a rut. But neither of us spoke. I kept my eyes on the path, my hands steady on the wheel, and told myself I liked it this way. Except I didn’t. The silence left me alone with my own thoughts, and that was a dangerous thing. I regretted what I had said to her. Not the truth of it. Just the way it had landed. The way her mouth had tightened before she had looked away, like I had taken something she wasn’t ready to give up. But I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a pack. The forest is quiet because I keep it that way. No one to answer to, no one to protect, no one to bury. That’s how I survive. That’s how I breathe. Except Ace wouldn’t let it rest.

“You are lying to yourself,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” I countered.

“You are. You want her here. You want her,”

“No, I want her to be safe. There is a difference,”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he spat out, and I gripped the wheel tighter. It was easier to think about the past than about her. I needed to remind myself why I was alone in the first place. So, I thought about my old pack. About the day I stopped belonging to it.

We had been weeks into winter. The snow had come early and hard, and food was tight. People were getting sick, nothing new for the season. But then one of the pups, barely old enough to shift, fell ill. She had just turned fourteen, and she had a fever so high that her little body shook. Her eyes had been glassy, and her breath had been shallow. Her parents had begged for medicine, for anything from the stores we kept locked away for emergencies. I had been a Beta then. Which meant I had access. But the Alpha had said no. Not because we couldn’t spare it. And not because it wouldn’t help. It was because she was the child of a family he didn’t like. Weak wolves, he had called them. Bad blood. We had been ordered to let her die. And I had disobeyed. I had used the stores. I had stayed with her through the night. I had tried to cool her fever and feed her water when she was lucid enough to swallow. She had been so small. She had died at dawn. The sickness had taken her life. My efforts had failed. It wasn’t the loss of the medicine that enraged the Alpha, it was that I had dared to use it on her. That I had wasted resources on someone who, in his mind, didn’t matter.

His words, not mine.

He banished me that morning. In front of everyone. He called me a traitor to my kind. He said my weakness would rot any pack foolish enough to take me in. No one had stopped him. Not one wolf looked me in the eye as I walked away. That was years ago, but the memory still burned like frostbite, sharp, cold, and deep in the bone. It was all the confirmation I needed. I don’t want a pack. I don’t want bonds. And I sure as hell don’t want a mate.

“Liar,” Ace said again, and I groaned softly.

“Drop it,”

“She isn’t them,” he kindly reminded me, and I glanced over at Liora, who was staring out of the window.

“It doesn’t matter,”

“Of course it does,” he said, and I pressed harder on the gas. The engine growled, spitting us out onto the main road. Liora stayed quiet in the passenger seat while her hands rested on her thighs. Her scent filled the cab, and I greedily breathed it in. It was a reminder of exactly what Ace was trying to tell me, and exactly what I didn’t want to hear. We hit a straighter stretch, and I risked another glance at her. She didn’t look back. She didn’t even shift in her seat. I couldn’t tell if she was sulking, thinking, or just pretending I wasn’t there. The truth was, I didn’t want to know.

“It’s not much further,” I said in an attempt to break the silence. Liora hummed something that I couldn’t quite make out. I didn’t say anything more. By the time we reached the spot where I normally hid the truck, the sun was halfway down the sky. Shadows stretched long between the trees. I parked, killed the engine, and let the silence swallow us. Liora stepped out first. She didn’t look around, she didn’t ask questions. She just wrapped her arms around herself and checked the perimeter. I checked around as well. No scent. No tracks. Everything was as it should be. I started unloading the crates we had brought. Supplies I didn’t want sitting in the back while the truck stayed here. She took what I handed her without comment, carrying them to the tree line while I worked. It was efficient. It was quiet. And it made the ache in my chest worse. We stashed the last of the gear under a tarp. I straightened and scanned the ridge. Nothing but the whisper of wind through dry branches.

“All done,” she whispered.

“Do you want to head back?” I asked her. “I mean, it is getting late,”

“And what? Sleep in the truck?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“We could go into town,” I suggested. I don’t even know why I suggested that. Liora looked surprised, but then she schooled her features fairly quickly. “Or not,” I added rather awkwardly.

“I mean…sure, why not,” she said. We got back into the truck, but before I could start the engine, something happened.

“We aren’t alone,” Ace said, and I looked out of the window. Liora was on edge as well.

“Were we followed?” she asked, but I shook my head.

“No,”

“Then?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. I heard a noise, and I looked over to see two figures stumble forward from behind a tree. I froze when I saw that they were armed. “f*****g hell,”