Page 53

Hagan

It had been six months.

One hundred and eighty-one days since Seren vanished beyond the borders of Vargrheim. Since the bond had frayed into silence. Since the world lost colour.

And still, Hagan waited.

The days blurred into training and strategy. Garrik, ever-grim, ran drills till their bodies collapsed on the dirty training ground. Veyr matched him blow for blow, but he was no match. Dain... Dain showed up, quiet and dangerous, the look in his eye always one second from snapping.

Together, they ran the tribe's defences tighter than ever.

Patrols sharpened. Borders sealed. Though there were no further incidents, there was this uneasy feeling within the tribe that something was coming.

Every potential threat was mapped and marked.

But the fire that had once burned in Hagan was now only embers—hot, but dim.

He went back to the cottage every night. Their cottage.

He imagined the bed still smelled like her—though the essence of her had long since faded.

Still, he refused to sleep anywhere else.

He refused to clear her side of the wardrobe.

Sometimes, he left food on the table out of habit.

Sometimes, he found himself whispering things aloud as if she were just in the next room.

He sent messages to her mobile, voice notes in the dead of night. Just in case. Just in case she turned it on again.

The trackers had spread out into the human world now. Quiet whispers through cities. Shifters embedded among the crowds, passing on rumours. Still, nothing.

The trackers returned again .

Empty-handed.

They always did.

No sign.

No whispers of a girl who walked with the magic of the forest at her fingertips.

No hint of silver eyes that shimmered like starlight.

No trace of her quiet poise or her laughter.

No sign—

Of a beautiful girl with hair like midnight and heart-breaking eyes.

Just the cold silence of absence.

But the bond still ached.

And until it didn't—he would keep waiting.

He remembered the day they placed the Binding Sigil on Lia.

The Oracle herself had applied it—ancient red ink, bound with magic older than wolves. It bloomed across her back like a spider's curse, an unbreakable knot that nullified her power and chained her will.

She had screamed and begged. Hadn't Seren begged him silently with her eyes? Had he listened?

Now she worked at the weaver's hall. Kept her head down. Silent. Unnoticed. The tribe shunned her.

Dain couldn't look at her without fury twisting his face. Veyr didn't look at her at all.

And to Hagan?

She wasn't even a thought .

Draken had aged. Astrid too. Their eyes held enough regrets to last a lifetime. Renna, Jorik and Kastor had returned to support them through this difficult time.

"He's killing himself," Astrid said one night, soft enough not to carry. "He hasn't let himself grieve. He won't stop until he breaks."

But no one could stop him. Not Draken. Not the tribe.

Dain and Hagan clashed often during training. Theirs was a dance of bruises now—quick, brutal, wordless.

Until Veyr lost his temper.

The latest skirmish had spiralled—Dain going for the throat, Hagan landing a punch too hard to be friendly.

Veyr stepped between them and knocked their skulls together with a loud crack.

"For fuck's sake," he growled. "You two are going to lead the entire tribe, and you're acting like moon-drunk pups. To the tavern. Now."

Hagan and Dain glowered but followed.

Inside, they took a booth in the corner while Veyr nursed water like a monk.

The demonbrew hit fast.

By the second round, Dain's mask slipped.

"You know what it felt like?" he slurred, his hand clenched on his tumbler to the point that cracks appeared on the glass.

"Seeing Lia chase you around like a lost pup?

Watching her pine while you barely looked?

I loved her. I still do. And every time she looked at you like you hung the moon , it ripped my goddamned heart out. "

Hagan stared into his drink .

"She was never mine. But for a little while, I could pretend." Dain muttered, his mind travelling back to the times he met with Lia in secret.

A silence.

Then Hagan said, low and raw, "The bond still hurts, you know? Every single day. Like someone left a claw in my chest and forgot to remove it."

Dain seemed to hesitate before asking. "You ever think of moving on?"

Hagan shook his head vehemently.

"As long as it hurts... she hasn't moved on either. Not fully. And if there's even a sliver of her still tied to me... I'll wait. And once I have a hint of where she is, I am gone."

Veyr made a sound that might've been approval. Or gas. You could never tell with Veyr.

Dain exhaled hard and looked away.

"You're an idiot," he muttered.

"Probably."

"Definitely."

And they drank in silence, both of them bleeding differently.