Chapter 3 — Beneath the Whispering Pines

Eliza Blackthorne

The forest beckoned her with a familiar hush, the kind that whispered secrets only the moon could decode. Eliza’s boots pressed softly into the damp earth as she tread deeper into Moonshadow Forest, the gnarled roots and jagged stones forming a labyrinth only she could navigate by memory. Her senses were alight, every sound, scent, and shadow pulling her further into the heart of the woods. Beneath the thick canopy, the moon’s silver light danced in fractured ribbons, illuminating the frost-dusted undergrowth and casting eerie reflections on the slow-moving streams.

She needed to escape. The tension at Blackthorne Hall had become suffocating, every glance and word from her father, Marcus, a reminder of her impending duties in the Lunar Choosing ritual. The weight of it pressed against her chest like iron shackles, and the fleeting solitude of the forest was her only reprieve. Here, amid the towering pines and the sharp, earthy scent of moss, Eliza could think clearly—or at least pretend she could.

Her fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh, a familiar comfort as she instinctively listened for the forest’s song. The pack’s patrols were out tonight, their howls occasionally piercing the quiet to mark their presence. Eliza stayed well beyond their routes, her steps guided by a need she couldn’t fully articulate. It wasn’t just the weight of tradition that pushed her into the woods tonight—it was something else. A pull. A stirring in her chest that she couldn’t ignore.

The wind shifted, carrying with it a scent that snagged her attention like a hook. It was faint but unmistakable, threading through the usual notes of pine and damp leaves. Musk and leather. Wild and untamed. And hauntingly familiar. Her pulse quickened.

“Logan,” she whispered, the name barely audible above the rustle of the trees. Her amber eyes darted around, scanning the shadows as her heart thundered. She hadn’t spoken his name aloud in years, but the memory of him was as vivid as the moonlight. The rogue wolf who had saved her as a young girl, who had been cast out of her world like a ghost. She had told herself it was unlikely she’d ever see him again, that he’d vanished into the vast wilderness forever. Yet here, now, with his scent lingering on the air, the impossible felt suddenly real.

Eliza slowed her steps, her breaths shallow as she moved toward the source. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual hum of insects and nocturnal creatures muted as if they, too, were waiting. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger, though she didn’t draw it. She wasn’t afraid—not of him. Of what he meant? Of what it would mean if he were truly here? Perhaps.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Her body tensed, her sharp gaze locking onto a figure emerging from the shadows. His steps were deliberate but quiet, and the way he lingered just out of the moonlight heightened the tension. Finally, he stepped into a patch of silver clarity, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

It was him.

Logan Kane stood before her, the silver strands of moonlight catching in his dark, disheveled hair and glinting off the faint scar that slashed through one of his sharp brows. His lean frame was unmistakable, a shadow of the boy she’d known but hardened, sharpened by years of exile. His silver-gray eyes found hers, and the world seemed to narrow to that single connection.

“Eliza,” he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. It was laced with something she couldn’t quite place—relief, perhaps, or the burden of unspoken words. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw his stoicism falter, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his expression before it vanished.

Her breath hitched. For a moment, she was frozen, caught between the instinct to step toward him and the fear of what this moment could unravel. “Do you have any idea what they’d do to you if they found you?” she said finally, her tone sharp but quivering at the edges. “What my father would do?”

“I know,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “But I had to see you.”

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Eliza’s mind raced, tangled between the pull of familiarity and the weight of the danger his presence represented. He was an exile, a traitor in the eyes of the pack. If anyone found him here—if her father found him—he wouldn’t survive the night. And yet, here he was, standing before her like a memory made flesh.

“Why?” she asked, the single word heavy with unspoken questions. Why now? Why here?

Logan hesitated, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as though grappling with the weight of his answer. “The pack’s in danger,” he said finally, his voice steady but edged with urgency. “And… I couldn’t stay away. Not anymore.”

Her gaze snapped back to him, her amber eyes searching his face. The Logan she remembered had always been quiet, his emotions tucked away behind a stoic mask. This Logan was different—still guarded, but the years had stripped away the boyish hesitance, leaving behind a man who stood firm in his words.

“What danger?” she asked, her instincts flaring to life. The tension in his stance, the urgency in his voice—it wasn’t just about her. Something else was at play. Something bigger.

“Hunters,” he said grimly. “I’ve seen their tracks—traps set too close to the borders, silver residue left on the ground. They’re closer than they’ve ever been.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “And Adrian… there’s something off about him. His patrols are moving at strange hours, and I’ve seen him near the Ravine. Meeting someone.”

The mention of Adrian sent a ripple of unease through her. She had sensed it too—the way his charm felt more like a snare, the way his eyes lingered too long, the way his words felt like a polished blade. But Logan’s warning made it feel more tangible, more imminent.

“They’re watching,” Logan continued, his voice low. “Waiting for the right moment to strike. If the pack doesn’t see it coming…”

He didn’t need to finish. The implications were clear, and they sent a chill down her spine.

Eliza pressed a hand to her temple, her mind spinning. If what Logan said was true, the pack was standing on the edge of a precipice, blind to the dangers closing in around them. And she—she was standing in the middle of it all, torn between the weight of her duty and the stirring rebellion in her heart.

“You should have gone to my father,” she said finally, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. She knew Marcus wouldn’t listen. He was too entrenched in tradition, too blinded by his trust in Adrian and the sanctity of the Lunar Choosing.

“Your father doesn’t see what’s right in front of him,” Logan said, his voice softening but still firm. “He never did.”

His words struck a painful chord of truth. Marcus’s rigidity had always been both his strength and his weakness. Eliza’s gaze met Logan’s again, and for a moment, the years fell away. She saw the boy who had saved her, who had stood by her side when no one else would. The connection between them was still there, unbroken despite everything.

“I’ll keep this quiet,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “But you need to be careful. If anyone finds you—”

“I can take care of myself,” Logan said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him that she did worry, that she always had. But the words stayed trapped in her throat, tangled with everything else she couldn’t bring herself to say.

Instead, she nodded, her fingers brushing the hilt of her dagger once more as if grounding herself. “Meet me here tomorrow night,” she said. “If there’s more you need to tell me, I want to hear it.”

Logan’s expression softened, a flicker of relief passing over his features. “I’ll be here,” he said.

With one last lingering glance, he stepped back into the shadows, his figure blending seamlessly with the forest until he was gone. Eliza stood there for a long moment, the echoes of his presence lingering in the air. The forest seemed to exhale around her, the stillness returning as though nothing had happened.

But something had changed. She could feel it in her bones, in the way her heart beat just a little faster, in the way the moonlight seemed sharper now. The path she walked was no longer certain, no longer bound by tradition alone.

As she turned back toward Blackthorne Hall, her gaze swept one last time across the forest. The shadows of the pines whispered around her, secrets tangled in the silence. Eliza knew, with a clarity that both terrified and exhilarated her, that the choices she made from here on out would shape not just her fate, but the fate of everything she held dear.