CHAPTER TWO: THE RETURN OF A GHOST

The howling winds of the Obsidian Highlands carried the scent of an approaching storm. Thick clouds rolled in from the north, swallowing the silver glow of the moon, casting long shadows over the towering walls of the Shadowfang Pack’s stronghold.

Cloaked in a tattered hood, Ayla stood at the entrance of the territory she once called home. Her pulse remained steady, her resolve unshaken. Yet, deep beneath her icy composure, a storm of emotions churned.

These gates—massive, imposing, lined with iron spikes—were the same ones she had walked through countless times before, filled with love and hope. Now, they felt foreign, unwelcoming, just as they had the day she was cast out.

But she was no longer Ayla, the weak mate unworthy of an Alpha’s love.

She was Layna now, a nameless healer seeking refuge. A wanderer with no past, no attachments.

Her face, once delicate and familiar, had been reshaped by the Moon Goddess’s will. Her softer features had sharpened, her emerald-green eyes darkened into a stormy hue. The woman Kael had once known—the woman he had broken—was gone.

And even if he stood before her, even if he looked into her eyes, he would not recognize her.

Two guards stationed at the gate noticed her presence. Their eyes narrowed at the hooded figure standing still against the night wind. One of them, a burly warrior with a scar across his jaw, took a step forward, resting a hand on the hilt of his blade.

“State your business.” His voice was rough, edged with suspicion.

Ayla kept her voice low, measured. “I am Layna, a healer from the east. My pack was slaughtered by rogues. I seek refuge.”

The guards exchanged glances. Then, the scarred one sneered.

“Another rogue begging for shelter?” He scoffed. “The Alpha doesn’t take in strays.”

Ayla felt her fingers clench beneath the folds of her cloak. Though she had anticipated resistance, the sting of rejection burned just as deeply as it had all those years ago.

“I am a healer,” she pressed, infusing her voice with a quiet desperation. “I can be of use to the pack.”

The second guard, younger and leaner, frowned. “The Shadowfang Pack already has a healer,” he muttered.

The scarred guard shook his head. “We don’t need another weakling.”

Weak.

The same word that had doomed her before. The same word that had cost her everything.

Anger flared hot in her chest, but she swallowed it down. Begging would get her nowhere.

Instead, she lifted her chin, a subtle defiance. “If I leave, I take my skills with me. Even Alphas bleed, and when they do, they’ll need someone to stop it.”

The scarred guard’s eyes narrowed. He hesitated, but before he could reply, another voice sliced through the night.

“What’s going on here?”

Ayla knew that voice.

A cold shiver ran down her spine as a powerful figure approached.

Even before she looked up, she knew who it was.

Alpha Kael.

He had not changed. Not in the way that mattered. His presence was still suffocating, still commanding. He moved with the quiet grace of a predator, every step measured, every motion exuding dominance. Draped in dark furs, his powerful frame seemed carved from stone, his silver eyes sharper than ever.

But something was different. There was a hardness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. A cruelty tempered by years of war and leadership.

She held her breath as his gaze swept over her, assessing, dissecting.

There was no recognition in his eyes.

“Who is she?” Kael’s voice was sharp, cutting through the cold night air.

“She claims to be a healer,” the guard replied. “Seeking refuge.”

Kael’s gaze locked onto her. His scrutiny was piercing, as if he could peel back the layers of her disguise with a single glance.

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, he spoke the words that struck deep into her chest.

“Send her away.”

Ayla’s heart pounded, but she willed herself to remain composed.

She had expected this. She had prepared for it. But that did not make it easier to hear.

“Alpha,” she said carefully, keeping her voice steady. “I can offer my skills to your pack. Healers are rare, and I—”

“I don’t take in weaklings,” Kael interrupted, his tone final.

The finality in his words was like a blade through her chest.

For the second time in her life, Kael had cast her aside.

Ayla forced herself to bow her head. She would not beg.

Without another word, she turned away, disappearing into the dense forest.

Her mind raced with possibilities. If Kael refused to let her in now, she would find another way. She had not come this far just to be turned away at the gates.

She needed patience. She needed the right moment.

And then, fate intervened.

That very night, chaos erupted within the pack.

A group of warriors returned from patrol, battered and bloodied from an ambush. Among them, one warrior had suffered a grievous wound—a deep gash across his abdomen, bleeding profusely.

Panic spread through the packhouse. The pack’s only medic was away, and no one knew how to stabilize the injured wolf.

Tensions ran high. The warrior’s breathing became ragged, his body trembling from blood loss. His packmates shouted for help, but there was no answer.

Then, Ayla stepped forward.

She stood at the entrance once more, her hood still drawn, her presence eerily calm amidst the panic.

“I can save him,” she declared.

The gathered wolves turned to her, disbelief flashing in their eyes.

Kael was there, his expression unreadable as he stared at her.

A heavy silence hung between them.

Then, his silver eyes darkened.

“You,” he growled.

He had not forgotten rejecting her only hours ago.

“If he dies,” Kael said, his voice dangerously low, “you follow him.”

The threat did not scare her.

Ayla only smiled.

She knelt beside the wounded warrior, her hands moving with practiced ease.

The scent of blood was thick in the air, but she did not falter. With steady hands, she began her work, sealing his wound, stitching together torn flesh with herbs and precise movements.

The wolves watched In tense silence, Kael included.

Minutes passed.

Then, the warrior’s ragged breathing steadied. The bleeding slowed. Color returned to his face.

A murmur rippled through the gathered crowd.

She had done it.

She had saved him.

Kael’s gaze lingered on her, his silver eyes unreadable. He did not trust her, but he could not deny what he had seen.

He had no choice.

She was in.

And with that, her revenge had truly begun.