Chapter 2 — Fractured Hearts

Ava

The Whispering Forest rose around Ava Harper like a cathedral of shadows and secrets, its ancient boughs arching overhead to blot out the moonlight. She ran blindly, the hem of her emerald dress catching on low branches and brambles, leaving behind tiny scraps of fabric as if marking her path of retreat. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her chest heaving as though her heart were trying to escape the cage of her ribs. Tears blurred her vision, but it didn’t matter where she was going—only that she had to get away.

Rylen’s words echoed in her mind, cruel and unrelenting. *This can’t happen. I won’t let it.*

Her boots skidded over uneven ground, the earth soft and damp beneath her feet. She stumbled but caught herself on the bark of a gnarled tree, her palm scraping against its rough surface. The sting grounded her momentarily, but the pain in her chest was far more overwhelming. The forest whispered around her, a soft cacophony of rustling leaves and creaking wood, as though it mourned alongside her. Or perhaps it mocked her, its whispers twisting between comfort and cruelty.

Ava pressed her back against the tree, her body trembling as she slid down to the mossy ground. Her hands clutched at the fabric of her dress, twisting it as sobs wracked her frame. She hadn’t expected this—not the depth of her heartbreak, not the finality of Rylen’s rejection. She had gone to the Moonlit Glade with hope burning bright in her chest, believing that their bond, their destiny, would be enough. But now, that hope lay in ruins, trampled beneath the weight of his cold, unyielding words.

Her mind betrayed her with flashes of memory: the warmth of Rylen’s stormy gray eyes on nights when the pack had gathered by the fire; the feeling of his hand brushing hers during a run through the moonlit forest, a fleeting touch that had sent her heart racing. She thought of his rare smile—a small, unguarded moment that had made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. And now, all of it was gone, reduced to painful echoes.

“I won’t let it,” he’d said. But why? What could be so terrible about their bond that he’d destroy it for the sake of something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—explain?

The whispers of the forest seemed to grow louder, more insistent, as if urging her to stay, to uncover the answers buried in the shadows. Yet Ava couldn’t face those questions now. She couldn’t stay here—not in the suffocating grip of the forest that now seemed to turn her grief against her.

When the tears finally slowed, Ava forced herself to her feet. Her legs felt like lead, every step an effort as she made her way through the trees. She followed the faint light of the forest’s edge, guiding her like a distant star. As she stumbled onward, a chill ran down her spine, and she froze, a prickling sensation at the nape of her neck. The feeling of being watched was fleeting, gone before she could fully register it. Perhaps it was only her imagination playing tricks on her, but she quickened her pace all the same.

By the time she reached her cottage, her dress was torn, and her hands were streaked with dirt and blood from where branches had scraped her skin. The sight of the small, ivy-covered home that had once offered her solace only deepened the ache in her chest.

The cottage was silent as she stepped inside, the faint scent of pine and lavender lingering in the air. Furniture was neatly arranged, her favorite knit blanket folded on the arm of the worn couch. The sight of these familiar comforts, unchanged and untouched, felt like a cruel reminder of how much she had lost in the span of a single night.

Ava moved mechanically, her hands trembling as she grabbed a worn leather duffel bag from the closet. She began stuffing it with clothes—jeans, sweaters, her favorite boots—anything she could find in her blind determination to leave.

But as she shoved items into the bag, doubt crept into her mind. Was she making the right choice? Could she really leave behind everything she had ever known? Her hands faltered, clutching a threadbare sweater to her chest. For a moment, she let herself imagine staying, confronting Rylen, demanding answers. But then the memory of his voice, cold and resolute, cut through her thoughts. *This can’t happen.*

Her resolve hardened. Whatever his reasons, whatever duty or fear had compelled him, she couldn’t stay here and let his decision define her.

Each item she packed felt like a small act of defiance, a statement to herself that she wouldn’t let this heartbreak consume her. But beneath her determination, grief simmered, raw and unrelenting. As she folded the last of her clothes, her mind betrayed her again with the memory of Rylen’s hand brushing a strand of auburn hair from her face, the way he had looked at her in that moment—like she was the only thing that mattered.

How could he throw it all away so easily?

The first light of dawn crept through the windows as she finished packing. Ava paused, staring at the small, wooden writing desk in the corner of the room. A blank sheet of paper sat atop it, and she hesitated before grabbing a pen. For a long moment, she stared at the empty page, her mind racing with everything she wanted to say but couldn’t.

Finally, she scrawled a few hurried lines:

*"I’m sorry. I need to go. Please don’t look for me."*

She left the note on the desk, her hand lingering over it as if it might somehow convey all the emotions she couldn’t put into words. In her mind, she imagined explaining herself to her adoptive parents, thanking them for their love, telling them this wasn’t their fault. But the words felt hollow, inadequate. Writing them down wouldn’t make her heartbreak any less real.

With a deep breath, she slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and stepped outside.

The mist that clung to the Whispering Forest had begun to lift, the golden light of morning breaking through in soft, dappled rays. Ava’s heart ached at the sight—this place, for all its pain, had been her home. But she couldn’t stay. Not while the memories of Rylen and the weight of his rejection threatened to drown her.

Her car was parked at the edge of the narrow dirt path that led to the main road. She threw her bag into the backseat and slid into the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. For a moment, she just sat there, the engine off, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

The forest seemed to watch her, its ancient presence both comforting and oppressive. Ava could almost hear its whispers, urging her to stay, to face the truth she had spent so long running from. The faint sensation of being watched prickled at her again, but she shook it off.

With a sharp twist of the key, the car roared to life. Ava glanced in the rearview mirror, her vivid green eyes meeting her reflection. They were red-rimmed and tired, but something else burned in them now—resolve.

She wouldn’t let this break her. She didn’t know where she was going or what she would find when she got there, but she knew one thing for certain: she couldn’t stay in Glenmoor. Not with the weight of Rylen’s rejection and the suffocating presence of a destiny she no longer believed in.

As the car rolled down the dirt path, the mist-covered forest began to fade in the rearview mirror. Ava gripped the wheel tightly, her jaw set as she drove toward an uncertain future.

The road ahead was long and winding, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she was choosing her own path.