His Rage, Her Regret

The first thing I felt was the cold.

It wrapped around me like an unwelcome cloak-damp, unrelenting, and sharp against my bare skin. I blinked, vision swimming with shadows and shifting light as the world slowly came into focus. Trees towered above me, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky. Mist curled low around the trunks, wrapping the forest in a silver shroud.

Where am I?

That question echoed through my head as I pushed myself up on trembling arms. My palms were scraped, my knees raw. Blood-dry and caked-streaked down my legs, though I couldn't remember how I got hurt. I couldn't remember anything at all.

Panic flared, quick and dizzying. My breath hitched.

Who am I?

I scrambled to my feet, only to sway, catching myself on a low branch. The air smelled of earth, moss, and something metallic-blood, I realized, not just my own. I looked down. A thin, pale shift clung to me, soaked and torn, offering little warmth. My feet were bare and muddy. I touched my face, my scalp-nothing felt familiar.

My heart beat wildly in my chest.

"Stay calm," I whispered to myself, though the words felt foreign in my mouth.

A flicker of pain surged through my collarbone. I looked down and caught a faint shimmer beneath the fabric. Tugging the shift aside, I found it-a crescent-shaped scar, glowing faintly with silvery-blue light. I traced it with shaking fingers. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but it thrummed like a memory I couldn't quite grasp.

A rustle in the undergrowth snapped me to attention.

I turned sharply, heart pounding in my ears. The mist shifted, revealing movement-shadows emerging between the trees. My body went rigid. Was I in danger? Were they animals? People?

I didn't wait to find out.

I ran.

Branches clawed at my arms, whipping against my skin as I stumbled forward, deeper into the forest. My breath came in ragged gasps. The ground was uneven, and I tripped more than once, scraping my hands and knees raw again. But I didn't stop.

Then-

A low growl.

I froze. Not behind me. Ahead.

Figures emerged from the fog. Not beasts, but men-four of them, tall, broad, dressed in dark leathers and cloaks that blended into the forest. Each carried a weapon: curved blades, axes, a bow slung over one shoulder. One of them-the one in front-was watching me with sharp, silver eyes.

I staggered back. "Please-I don't know who I am-I'm not-"

The silver-eyed man stepped closer, raising a hand to signal the others. His dark hair was tied back, and a faint scar cut through one brow. He looked like he belonged to the forest-dangerous, capable, in control.

"Stop," he said, his voice low and firm. "We won't hurt you."

I didn't move. I couldn't. My legs trembled beneath me, exhaustion and fear threatening to drag me down.

He tilted his head. "You're not from any of the border clans." It wasn't a question.

"I... I don't know," I whispered. "I don't remember anything. Not even my name."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, then gestured to one of the men behind him. They exchanged a few quiet words before he turned his attention back to me.

"You're injured," he said. "Come with us."

I hesitated. "Where?"

"To Nightshade."

The name meant nothing to me. And yet, something about the way he said it stirred something deep in my chest-an ache, an echo.

Still, I didn't trust him.

"I-how do I know you're not going to kill me?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

One of the other men snorted. The leader gave him a look, then returned his gaze to me.

"If we wanted you dead, we'd have left you for the wolves."

Harsh. But probably true.

The glow from my scar pulsed faintly again. I saw the silver-eyed man's eyes flick to it, just for a moment. His jaw clenched.

"What is this?" I asked, stepping back. "Do you know what it means?"

His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his gaze-recognition?

"I've seen a mark like that before," he said, voice quiet. "A long time ago."

"Where?"

He didn't answer right away. "Come with us. You'll get answers in time."

A dozen thoughts warred in my mind-fear, instinct, a deep yearning to understand what was happening to me. I had no memory, no name, no place to return to. But something told me this man-whoever he was-held a key to it all.

"Alright," I said, my voice barely audible. "I'll come."

He nodded once. "I'm Riven. Beta of the Nightshade Pack."

I had no idea what a beta was, or what a pack meant. But I tucked the names away like precious stones.

"Do I have a name?" I asked quietly.

Riven looked at me for a long time before answering.

"You did," he said. "But until we know for sure... we'll call you Lyra."

Lyra.

The name felt unfamiliar. But something about it settled inside me like a spark.

"Lyra," I echoed.

He turned, motioning for me to follow. The other men shifted aside as I passed. One of them muttered something under his breath-something I didn't quite catch-but I could feel the suspicion in their gazes.

Whatever-or whoever-I had been, I wasn't just a stranger in their eyes. I was a mystery.

We walked in silence. I clutched my arms around myself, shivering as we moved through the trees. The mist was thinning now, but the chill remained. Riven kept glancing back, as if expecting me to collapse.

I was tempted.

At some point, the woods gave way to something more structured-paths, fences, the glow of lanterns ahead. Buildings loomed through the haze, sturdy and tall, built from dark stone and timber. A high wall surrounded them. A fortress.

Home?

Not yet.

As we passed through the gates, more eyes turned to me. People stopped in their tracks. Some whispered. A few looked shocked. I shrank under their gaze.

Riven said nothing, only led me through a side passage into a quieter courtyard. A tall woman waited there, arms crossed, dark eyes assessing me.

"She's injured," Riven said. "And she doesn't remember who she is."

The woman gave a tight nod. "I'll take it from here."

He turned to me. "You'll be safe here, Lyra."

I stared at him. "Do you really not know me?"

His jaw tensed. "I didn't say that."

Then he walked away.

The woman introduced herself as Nissa, the healer, and led me to a small room at the back of a stone house. It was plain, but clean. She ran a bath, set out simple clothes, and examined my wounds with a careful hand.

"Do you know him?" I asked as she cleaned a gash on my arm.

"Riven?" Nissa snorted. "Everyone knows Riven. He's the Alpha's right hand. Loyal. Dangerous. Smart. Which makes you all the more interesting."

"Why?"

Nissa met my eyes. "Because he looked at you like he'd seen a ghost."

I didn't sleep that night.

Even with a warm blanket, a soft mattress, and a full belly, my mind refused to rest. My body remembered things my mind didn't-the way to walk quietly, how to brace for pain, the instinct to run when someone raised their voice.

But most of all, it remembered him.

Riven.

The way he looked at me.

Like he'd seen something he thought was lost.

And for the first time since waking in that forest, I didn't feel entirely alone.