the escape

Callan's pov

The night was cold and filled with danger. The dark mist moved around Hazel’s body, wrapping her like a prison. Her skin was icy, her breaths shallow. The ritual was meant to take everything from her—her life, her soul, her very existence. But something was wrong. It wasn't happening, even in her unconscious state, she still felt very much alive.

A bright silver light cut through the darkness. It pushed the mist away, making it shrink back. Strong hands lifted Hazel off the ground, holding her close. A deep voice muttered something, but she was too weak to understand.

Callan held her tightly, his heart pounding. His pendant, shaped like a half-moon, glowed softly. Its light fought back the dark magic in the air. He had come just in time.

His wolf growled inside him. Why does she feel so important? and why was her voice able to wake him up from his usual deep slumber. she was a stranger, yet something in him refused to leave her behind. He had to protect her. The way he felt was weird.

She's your mate. His wolf, Lucas said

Mate? That was the last thing he ever thought would happen to him he has been mate less for years and all of a sudden the moon goddess decides to give him one?

A sudden movement in the shadows made Callan snap his head up, bringing him out from his thoughts. The ritual site wasn’t completely abandoned. Figures lurked at the edges of the mist, watching. His grip on Hazel tightened. They weren’t alone.

With a sharp breath, he turned and ran. The wind howled around them, branches clawing at his skin. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Hazel stirred weakly against him. A small, pained sound escaped her lips, barely a whisper.

"Hold on," Callan murmured, his voice rough. "Just a little longer."

A rustling sound came from behind. The scent of dark magic filled the air. They were being followed.

Callan’s wolf snarled. He could take them—but not with Hazel in this state. He needed to get her to safety first.

Then he would deal with whoever dared to come after them

****

The next morning, the ritual site was empty. The ground was still blackened from the magic used the night before. The air smelled of burned herbs and old blood.

Damien stood in the middle of it, his golden eyes cold. His mother, Lady Celeste, was beside him, her face stiff with anger. Selena stood with her arms crossed, irritation clear in her expression.

Hazel was supposed to be dead.

Damien clenched his fists. This was impossible. If the ritual had worked, he would have felt it. He would have gained her power. But he felt nothing.

"Where is she?" Lady Celeste asked, her voice sharp.

"There’s no way she survived," Selena said, her eyes scanning the area. "No one could have walked away from that."

Damien’s jaw tightened. If Hazel was still alive, then she was a threat.

His lips curled into a sneer. "Find her," he ordered. His voice was like steel. His warriors straightened at once, ready to obey.

Selena was furious, "we need to find that worthless and pathetic omega immediately, I will search for her also"

Damien shot her a glare. "I need to finish this myself."

Lady Celeste looked around once again unable to believe the ritual really didn't complete. Who had saved hazel, she couldn't help but wonder, “we would find her, it's a must” she said to Damien

Damien didn’t respond. He turned to leave, his blood boiling. Hazel wouldn’t escape him.

Shadow Pack Territory

Far from the ritual site, Hazel lay in a large, unfamiliar bed. Soft blankets covered her, keeping her warm. A cool cloth pressed against her forehead, easing the heat in her body.

She groaned softly, her eyelashes fluttering as she fought to wake up.

"She’s waking up," a voice whispered. It was old, gentle.

Hazel tried to move, but her body felt weak. Her throat was dry. Her head pounded.

"Where… am I?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

The old woman tending to her gave a small smile. "You’re safe. The Alpha brought you here."

Alpha?

Hazel blinked, trying to focus. The last thing she remembered was the ritual, the dark mist… and then nothing.

"The Alpha…?" she repeated, confused.

"Yes," the woman nodded as she dipped the cloth into fresh water. "He carried you here last night. You were barely breathing."

Hazel took a slow breath. Relief filled her, but so did fear. Who was this Alpha? And why did he help her?

The woman patted her hand gently. "Rest, dear. I’ll bring you something to eat. The Alpha will want to see you soon."

Hazel didn’t argue. She was too tired.

Few hours later…..After a bath and a meal, Hazel stood outside a large wooden door. Her heart pounded as she hesitated. The maid had told her the Alpha wished to see her.

Why did she feel so nervous?

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The study was warm, filled with books and a burning fireplace. The scent of wood and leather filled the air. But Hazel barely noticed.

Her eyes locked onto the man standing by the window.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair slightly messy. He wore a black shirt, the sleeves rolled up, showing strong arms. When he turned to look at her, Hazel’s breath caught.

His eyes.

A deep, striking blue—sharp, unreadable. There was something about them that made her heart race.

Hazel swallowed. Why did she feel so strange?

The warmth in her chest grew stronger. She felt a pull toward him, something she couldn’t explain. The last time she had felt anything close to this was when she first met Damien. But this… this was different.

The man’s gaze darkened. His muscles tensed as if he were fighting something inside himself.

Then, he took a slow step forward.

Hazel’s body stiffened, but not out of fear. It was something else. Something deeper.

Before she could speak, the man did.

His deep voice was steady but held something else—something certain.

"Mate."

Hazel’s world had shaken.