The lost mate

The wind carried something familiar tonight. Something he hadn’t scented in years.

Kyle stood at the edge of the forest, his boots sinking into damp earth, the towering trees around him swaying under the night breeze. Moonlight filtered through the branches, casting silver strands across his tense frame. His wolves had gone silent behind him, waiting, watching.

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it—the faint whisper of *her* scent in the air, buried beneath the crisp pine and lingering smoke of their dying campfire.

Four years.

Four years since Lilith disappeared without a trace, slipping between the trees like a ghost, vanishing into the human world, taking nothing with her. Not even a goodbye.

His jaw clenched. He could still hear the voices in his pack—whispers of weakness, the murmurs that an alpha without a mate would never be strong enough to hold them together. The number of his wolves had dwindled, the doubt festering, and Dorian’s pack only grew stronger.

But this scent—it wasn’t just Lilith. It was something else. Something *new*.

A shift in the trees drew his attention. His second-in-command, J, stepped forward, his sharp golden eyes narrowed. "You smell it too?"

Kyle inhaled again, controlled, measured. His instincts screamed to run—to chase whatever fragment of Lilith had drifted into his territory. But logic told him otherwise. If she had been gone this long, she wouldn't have returned lightly.

Or at all.

Still, something in his gut twisted. For the first time in years, **he wasn’t sure if he could ignore the call of the past any longer.**

each passing second dragging along like lead weights. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, drowning in the scent of old coffee and disinfectant.

Lilith wiped down the counter with slow, measured strokes, the damp cloth gliding over worn-out wood. The night shift had thinned out—only a few late-night stragglers remained, nursing cold coffee, lost in their own troubles.

Across from her, **Bethany** leaned against the register, arms crossed, eyes tired but alert. The familiarity in her gaze wasn’t just exhaustion—it was quiet understanding. **She always knew when Lilith was lost in thought.**

Bethany had known her since childhood, back when things were simpler—before **Kyle**, before exile, before the weight of motherhood settled on her shoulders. Years had passed like ghosts between them, until Lilith had knocked on her door fifteen years ago with nothing but exhaustion in her bones and a few months old pregnancy, she left again after giving birth and came back four years ago.

Bethany didn’t ask questions. She didn’t demand explanations. She had simply opened the door.

Now, Lilith had an apartment—a fragile place she had built for herself and Quinn, a space carved out of normalcy even when the world outside still carried dangers.

"You’re thinking again," Bethany murmured, pulling Lilith from her thoughts.

Lilith exhaled, slow, controlled. "Just tired."

Bethany arched a brow. "You’re always tired."

She wasn’t wrong. But exhaustion was safer than emotions.

Lilith had mastered the art of being distant—detached from the past, detached from people, detached from everything except Quinn.

Still, something felt off tonight. A shift in the air, a quiet disturbance in the shadows.

She just didn’t know what yet.

Lilith’s phone buzzed against her palm, the cold air nipping at her fingers as she answered.

"Don’t worry, I’ll be home in about thirty minutes," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Quinn’s voice on the other end was soft but indifferent. "I’m going to sleep soon. You'll just microwave dinner."

Lilith exhaled, the weight of exhaustion pressing against her ribs. "Alright."

A pause. A quiet understanding. Quinn was used to this—her mother’s late shifts, the quiet nights in their apartment, the unspoken rules of survival.

Bethany stretched beside her, sighing as she rubbed at her arms to shake off the cold. The city always felt colder at this hour, as if the night carried something unseen beneath the surface.

"Beth, Lilith said, turning as she wrung out the cloth in her hands, the damp fabric cooling her fingers. "It’s closing hours. We should head home."

Bethany glanced at the clock, stretching her arms before giving a tired nod. "Finally."

Across the diner, the manager was ushering the last stragglers out, flipping the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED" with practiced indifference. Chairs scraped against the linoleum as late-night regulars shuffled toward the door, mumbling goodbyes before disappearing into the dark streets.

Lilith peeled off her apron, draping it over the counter before grabbing her coat. Bethany followed suit, her movements sluggish but familiar.

"You walking?" Bethany asked, pulling her purse strap over her shoulder.

Lilith adjusted her jacket, the weight settling over her tired frame. "Yeah. Safer that way."

Bethany scoffed. "For normal people, maybe. But you—"she shot her a knowing glance, "—are far from normal."

Lilith didn’t respond, just flicked off the last of the diner lights, watching the shadows stretch over the empty tables. Bethany knew what she was, always had. But that didn’t mean Lilith entertained conversations about it.

She stepped outside, the chilled night air brushing against her skin. The streets were quiet at this hour, headlights flickering in the distance, neon signs humming softly against the silence. Bethany walked beside her, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets.

"So,"Bethany said, voice quieter now. "Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I just assume you’re in one of your ‘brooding moods’ again?"

Lilith exhaled through her nose. "Just tired."

Bethany gave her a look. "You say that every time I ask."

Lilith didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure how to put it into words—the unease prickling at the edges of her mind, the feeling that something was shifting just beyond her sight.

The past didn’t stay buried forever.

Kyle crouched low, fingers brushing over the disturbed earth where the boot prints sank deep into the mud. Human. Recent.

The rumors were true.hunters were here.

J stood beside him, eyes sharp, calculating. Vera, still in wolf form, prowled ahead, nose to the ground, tracking the scents that tangled in the crisp night air.

Kyle’s jaw tightened. It wasn’t the first time hunters had been seen near their territory, but this was different. Closer. Bolder. More deliberate.They weren’t just patrolling—they were scouting. Searching.

Vera suddenly halted, muscles tensing, before her frame shuddered and twisted back into her human form, bare skin glistening under the moonlight. Her breath was steady, though her eyes remained wolf-like, glowing unnaturally for a few seconds before settling back into their human shade.

"They’re moving east," she murmured, voice low but firm. "Three of them. Armed, probably."

Kyle exhaled, scanning the shadows stretching beyond the trees. Three hunters. That meant at least one of them was experienced.The Crimson Veil never sent amateurs into werewolf territory.

"We need to move," J muttered, tension rolling off him. "If they’re hunting this close to the pack, it won’t be long before they find something."

Kyle pushed to his feet, staring out into the forest beyond. His mind flickered to the scent from earlier—the faint trace of something buried beneath the air.

Lilith.

He didn't know if it was real or his mind playing tricks on him. But something in the night felt different. As if everything he had lost was suddenly within reach again.

And now, with hunters closing in, time was running out.

Meanwhile.

Lilith stared into the mirror, droplets of water trailing down her collarbone as she ran the towel through her damp hair. The warm steam curled around her, clinging to the edges of her reflection.

Then it happened.

Her eyes flashed, shifting from their usual deep brown to the unnatural golden glow of a wolf, bright and untamed.

She gritted her teeth, forcing her breath steady. It had been a month since she last indulged in the hunger—the craving for blood, for meat, for the primal instinct that always threatened to surface.

She had trained herself for years. Control. Discipline. Suppression.it was the only way to survive among humans without revealing what she was. And she had passed that training to Quinn.

Once a month. That was their limit.

She inhaled deeply, blinking until the golden hue faded. The itching beneath her skin remained, a lingering reminder that she wasn’t truly human, no matter how well she pretended.

Lilith pulled the robe tighter around herself, exhaling as she turned away from the mirror. She couldn’t afford to slip. Not now. Not ever.

Lilith sighed, exhaustion settling deep in her bones as she sank into her mattress. The day had been long, the quiet routine predictable, but the tension in her muscles never truly faded.

She yawned, the sharp edge of her canines briefly visible—just enough to be unnatural, though not enough for anyone to notice unless she smiled wide. But she wasn’t one to smile.

As she reached for the bedside lamp, ready to shut out the night, a strange sensation prickled at the back of her neck. An instinct.

Her gaze flickered to the window, scanning the dimly lit street below. Nothing unusual. No movement beyond the sway of tree branches.

She inhaled slowly, letting her senses stretch outward—listening, testing the air for anything amiss. No nearby threat. No scent of danger.

Still… something felt off.

She lingered for a moment longer, then exhaled sharply, pushing aside the unease. She was just tired. That was all.*

Turning off the light, she let the darkness swallow the room, but sleep didn’t come easily.