Chapter 43
Along silence settled as Evelyne watched Kaldrek, the firelight dancing across his face. She wet her lips, searching for the right words.
“You kissed me. In front of the pack.”
Kaldrek didn’t flinch. “Was that okay?”
“It made for a tense conversation,” she admitted. “But I liked it.” A soft smile formed on her face.
Something dark flickered in his eyes, and his voice dropped low with intent. “Do you want me to do it again?”
She didn’t get the chance to answer. His hand moved up, fingers slipping behind her neck, guiding her face toward his with a gentle pull. The angle sent her pulse racing. His lips hovered just above hers, his breath warm against her mouth.
Heat rushed through her as she whispered, “Yes.”
And then he kissed her. Deep and thorough.
She didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care if half the pack was watching.
At that moment, all that existed was the feel of his mouth on hers, his fingers tangled in her hair, and the way he surrounded her.
Gods, she was in deep. Not just falling for a man, but for a wolf.
An alpha. And still, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not one bit.
Later, when the pack slept for the night, she curled into him, her cheek resting against the steady rhythm of his heart. She didn’t wake when he slipped away for his watch, never felt his body shift or the chill that crept in to replace the warmth he left behind.
***
A week passed in the tunnel, the days blurring into one another, swallowed by darkness and the cool, stagnant air.
The pack was growing restless, their patience fraying with every mile.
Wolves were meant to run beneath the open sky, not caged underground with only flickering firelight to remind them of the world above.
The walls pulsed with their eerie web of bloodroot, the veins surfacing in places to wind through the dirt like living arteries. But they never attacked, never wrapped around their throats in the night like Holden had joked.
Evelyne noticed something one night: the bloodroots always receded when the fire was lit.
She didn’t believe in coincidences, not when it came to dark magic, and she made a mental note of the pattern.
Whatever these roots were, they weren’t just remnants of blood magic.
They were alive, watching and listening.
Determined not to let the relentless travel wear her down, Evelyne rose early each morning, often before the rest of the pack, joining Heidara and a small group for training.
Even in the damp, stifling dark of the tunnels, they practiced.
Footwork, close combat, knife drills. Dirt and sweat clung to her skin, exhaustion a constant companion, but she didn’t let it pull her under.
She needed the movement, the sense of purpose.
Still, she couldn’t help but long for a proper bath and wondered how disheveled she must look.
Kaldrek never seemed to care.
Privacy didn’t exist in the tunnels. Only fleeting seconds snatched in the dark.
But Kaldrek made use of every single one.
A brief kiss when backs were turned. His hand brushing her waist as they passed.
A stolen moment by the fire, his lips on hers like a challenge to anyone watching.
It left her yearning for more, but for now, she had to be content with these quiet, stolen touches.
Obren and his pack mostly kept to themselves, though the rift between them and the Ironwolf pack had started to ease, if only slightly.
Most nights were filled with bickering over trivial things, but there had only been one real fight, and Holden and Ty had broken it up before it turned bloody.
Even so, bonds began forming in the dark, fragile alliances born from shared hardship and the will to survive.
During one of these quieter nights, Evelyne learned more about Obren’s fallen pack. He sat beside her, sharpening a dagger with slow, methodical strokes, his eyes distant. She didn’t press him, but after a long silence, he finally spoke.
“The Noskari came at night,” Obren said, his voice low, hollow. “I was… distracted. Spent the evening wrapped up with a beautiful female while my pack was being slaughtered.”
He paused, the sharpening of his dagger slowing.
“I ran when I heard the screams. But it was too late.” The guilt in his tone was unmistakable, heavier than anything Evelyne had heard from him before. “We weren’t ready for them. The elders, our best fighters… They were gone within minutes. Some didn’t even get the chance to shift.”
Evelyne swallowed hard. “And the others?”
Obren exhaled and leaned his head back. “They’re scattered.
Dead. Or too broken to keep fighting. I didn’t have a plan when I headed south—just hoped I’d find others willing to stand against her.
” He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.
“Stumbled into Kaldrek’s pack by chance.
Lucky me, I guess. Even if the bastard gets under my skin. ”
Evelyne’s chest tightened with sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
Obren gave a half-hearted shrug, his lips quirking into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Now I need revenge.”
She understood that all too well. But even as he sat beside her, revealing glimpses of his past, he never fully let the distance between them close.
Not after Kaldrek had made it clear where she stood.
The tension between them had shifted into something quieter, resembling friendship, but the unspoken boundary still lingered.
Alaric had kept his distance for a day after she struck him, but eventually, he came around to speak with her.
“I was an ass,” he said without preamble, standing stiffly as she tied her boots by the fire.
Evelyne sighed. “Yes, you were.”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
She studied him momentarily before standing and wrapping her arms around him. He exhaled heavily, hugging her back, though he was too proud to say more.
“I’m sorry for striking you,” she added against his shoulder.
Alaric pulled back, huffing a small laugh. “I think my jaw is bruised. It was a pretty impressive hit.” She winced, but he smiled and added, “But I deserved it.”
They settled into a comfortable silence, the tension between them finally easing.
It would take time, but she knew they’d be all right.
After everything, she couldn’t really blame him.
Their connection had always been a bit rushed and uncertain, tangled in the chaos of their journey. But now, she understood.
As they sat by the fire later that night, Alaric unrolled his map, frowning at the details that shifted across the enchanted parchment. Evelyne leaned over, watching as patches of darkness flickered across certain areas.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the blackened sections.
Alaric tapped the map. “This only started showing up once we entered the tunnels. It reacts to the bloodroot and shows up when it’s near.”
So it was true. The roots weren’t natural at all. They were born of dark magic.
“Did you ever watch how it moves?” Alaric went on. “The way the roots shift? They respond to sound and light. And I don’t think they’re hiding.” He looked up, eyes sharp. “I think they’re waiting.”
Evelyne swallowed hard. “For what?”
Alaric didn’t answer. Neither of them wanted to find out.
***
While the pack prepared to rest for the night, Evelyne and Heidara slipped away, wandering a little farther ahead. They moved quietly, stretching their legs and speaking in low voices, hoping to shake off the weight of exhaustion that clung to them.
“I miss the open air,” Heidara admitted, sighing. “Running under the stars, feeling the wind. I swear, if I have to stay underground much longer, I’ll lose my mind.”
Evelyne hummed and smiled. “I love running, too.”
Heidara arched a brow. “You?”
She laughed softly. “I used to sneak out just to run. It was… frowned upon, of course. A noble lady isn’t supposed to do such improper things.” She shook her head. “I never fit in that world. There was always this itch, this need, to run.”
Heidara studied her with something like approval before grinning. “I think you would have made a fine wolf.”
Evelyne smirked, but didn’t respond, her thoughts drifting instead to Aurelia.
Her sister had always embodied the perfect noblewoman.
In many ways, Heidara reminded her of Aurelia: blonde, beautiful, radiant.
The comparison stirred an ache in her chest. She missed her family.
Missed Seraphine, whose words of wisdom she had so often dismissed.
She would give anything to hear them now.
Heidara opened her mouth to speak, but the ground trembled beneath them, and a sharp, metallic scent surged through the air.
Before they could react, the bloodroots erupted faster than ever, lunging from the walls, ceiling, and floor, writhing like starving serpents. The pack froze in stunned horror. Then came a deafening crack, the splintering of stone and roots, and the tunnel buckled.
In one violent moment, the earth collapsed around Evelyne and Heidara, sealing them inside.
Evelyne coughed, pushing herself up. Not hurt, but shaken. Heidara groaned beside her, clutching her head, looking dazed and weak. Kaldrek and Holden’s shouts rang through the dust and rubble.
“We’re okay!” Evelyne shouted back, heart pounding. “Just get us out!”
But then she saw it.
A jagged hole yawned open in the rock, revealing a deep, shadowy void. And from its depths, something began to crawl.