Chapter 7: A New Territory

Celeste stood at the threshold of the cabin, her pulse thrumming in her ears. The place was sturdy, built from dark wood, its roof slanted beneath the weight of the towering pines around it. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, a sign of warmth inside.

Rowan knocked twice, firm but not urgent.

A long pause stretched between them before heavy footsteps sounded from within. Celeste’s muscles tensed. She wasn’t sure what kind of person she expected—who would live out here, completely disconnected from the packs?

The door creaked open.

A man filled the frame.

Tall. Broad. Dark-haired with striking golden eyes that flicked from Rowan to Celeste in one sharp, assessing glance. Power radiated from him—not the suffocating dominance she had endured under Kieran, but something deeper. Rooted.

Rowan exhaled. “Rafael.”

The name settled in the air, and something about it sent a shiver down Celeste’s spine.

The man—Rafael—leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’ve got some nerve bringing trouble to my doorstep.”

“She’s not trouble,” Rowan said evenly.

Rafael’s gaze slid back to Celeste, pinning her in place. “That so?”

Celeste stiffened under his scrutiny, forcing herself to meet his eyes. She had spent too long cowering beneath an Alpha’s stare. Never again.

“I left my pack,” she said, voice steady despite the weight of the night pressing down on her. “I’m not looking for trouble. Just a place to start over.”

Rafael studied her for another beat before exhaling through his nose. “You smell like heartbreak and blood.”

Celeste flinched at the accuracy of it, but she didn’t look away.

Rowan stepped forward. “She needs shelter. Just for a while.”

Rafael didn’t answer immediately. He glanced at Celeste one last time before pushing the door open wider.

“Come in,” he said.

Celeste hesitated for only a second before stepping into the unknown.

The warmth of the cabin wrapped around Celeste like a thick, unfamiliar blanket, the scent of burning wood mixing with something darker—leather, iron, and the faintest trace of something wild.

Rafael closed the door behind them with a solid thud. “Sit.”

Celeste hesitated, but Rowan moved first, settling into one of the worn-out chairs near the stone fireplace. She followed, perching on the edge of a seat, her muscles still tight with caution.

Rafael leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Even in stillness, there was something watchful about him. Calculating.

“Tell me,” he said, his golden eyes locking onto hers. “Who did you run from?”

Celeste swallowed. There was no point in lying. “Alpha Kieran of the Silverclaw Pack.”

Rafael’s jaw ticked. His gaze flicked to Rowan, then back to her. “And you survived?”

The words scraped against something raw inside her. Survived.

“Yes,” she said, though it didn’t feel like the full truth. She had escaped. Endured. But survival? That was still in progress.

Rafael exhaled sharply. “That bastard always had a twisted way of running his pack.” He shook his head, then studied her again, this time with something different in his gaze. “And now he’s going to come looking for you.”

Celeste’s fingers curled into her lap. “He won’t find me.”

Rafael let out a low, humorless chuckle. “You don’t know how obsessed Alphas can get over something they think belongs to them.”

The words sent a shiver through her. Kieran hadn’t fought for her when she was under his rule—had barely looked at her with anything other than disappointment or indifference. But now? Now that she had taken back control?

A gnawing dread settled in her chest.

Rowan shifted in his seat. “That’s why we need a safe place. Just for now.”

Rafael was silent for a long moment, his gaze flicking between them. Then, with a sigh, he pushed off the counter.

“You can stay,” he said, eyes settling on Celeste. “But understand this—I don’t take in strays. If you want shelter here, you pull your weight.”

Celeste nodded without hesitation. “I don’t need handouts.”

A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. “Good.” He turned, heading toward a dark hallway. “There’s an empty room down the hall. Get some rest.”

Celeste didn’t argue. She followed the direction he had pointed, stepping into the small, dimly lit space. The bed was simple, the air crisp with the scent of pine.

As she sank onto the mattress, exhaustion crashed over her in waves.

She was safe.

For now.

Celeste lay on the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence in Rafael’s cabin was different—dense, pressing, yet not suffocating like it had been in the Silverclaw Pack. It was a silence of solitude, not oppression. But even here, with walls between her and the past, she could still feel the ghost of Kieran’s hold on her.

Her fingers curled into the coarse blanket. She should be relieved. She had escaped. She had a place to rest. And yet, unease coiled in her stomach. Would Kieran truly let her go so easily?

A soft knock at the door made her stiffen. “Come in,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

Rowan stepped in, his expression unreadable. “How are you holding up?”

Celeste exhaled. “I don’t know.” She hesitated, then met his gaze. “Do you think Kieran will come after me?”

Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shut the door behind him, leaning against it with crossed arms. “He might not have cared for you before, but now that you’re gone? He’ll feel the loss like an open wound. Not because he loves you, but because he lost control over you.”

Celeste swallowed. “Then I need to be ready.”

Rowan’s lips twitched, almost approving. “You will be.”

Before she could ask what he meant, Rafael’s voice cut through the cabin.

“If you’re staying, you train at dawn.”

Celeste turned toward the door, Rafael’s towering silhouette framed in the dim hallway light. His golden eyes gleamed, unreadable but firm.

“No exceptions,” he added before walking away.

Celeste took a deep breath. This wasn’t just escape. It was survival. And survival meant she had to become something stronger.