Rejected by Moonlight: Second Moon, Second Chance

Lila's breath froze in her chest, cold and tight. A shadowy figure towered over her hiding spot. It blocked out the faint moonlight. The hollowed tree pressed hard against her back. Its bark felt rough and tough. Her spine dug into it. It anchored her as her heart raced wild. Her hands shook, coated in sweat and dried blood. One rested on her belly, protective and trembling. The other clenched into a fist, useless against a wolf but all she had left. The night hung still, silent and heavy, like a thread about to snap. She braced herself. Her green eyes widened with fear and stubborn fire. Jaxon's wolves had tracked her down. She felt sure of it. Tara's cruel smirk flashed in her mind. Her sister's betrayal cut fresh. A sob welled up, threatening to spill out. She swallowed it down. She wouldn't fall quiet, not after all she'd endured, not with her baby's life pulsing under her skin.

The figure stepped closer. It moved into a sliver of light. Moonlight carved across its face. It revealed rugged scars and messy brown hair. It was Kade. Relief hit her hard. It crashed like a wave, stealing her breath. Her knees gave out. She slid down the tree's curve, weak with shock. He stood there, alive, bruised, drenched. His shirt hung ripped and clung to his frame. His gray eyes locked onto her, fierce and stormy. They stirred an ache in her chest. She'd thought him gone, swallowed by the river's hunger. The guilt had nearly crushed her, heavy and choking. Tears broke free now, hot and steady. They streamed down her face.

"You're alive," she said. Her voice sounded hoarse and breaking. It clawed past the knot in her throat. She shoved herself up. She stumbled toward him on shaky legs. A desperate need drove her forward, unnamed but fierce. She threw her arms around his waist. She clung tight. Her face pressed into his chest, wet, chilled. It reeked of river mud and blood. Beneath it, he felt solid, warm, real. She let herself shatter for a moment. Sobs muffled against him. The night's weight poured out, Jaxon's rejection, Tom's death, the blood she'd spilled. Kade was her only anchor in the storm.

His body went stiff under her hug. It felt taut as a trapped wolf. She sensed the strain in his muscles, coiled to bolt. Then his arms wrapped around her, slow and clumsy. They showed he wasn't sure how to hold her. "Yeah," he muttered. His voice came out rough and worn. "Barely. You didn't keep moving. Damn near got yourself caught."

She pulled back. Her hands rested on his arms. Tears blurred his scarred face as she looked up. Anger flared sudden and bright. It cut through her relief. "I thought you were dead!" she snapped. Her voice quivered but sliced sharp. "You fell. I saw you go over with that wolf. I couldn't. I didn't know what to—" She stopped. She choked on the words. Her fists balled up at her sides. Nails dug in. The memory of him plunging into the river stabbed at her, raw and clear. His sharp words burned. They rubbed salt into that hurt.

Kade's jaw clenched tight. His gray eyes narrowed. He swiped a hand across his face. He smeared blood and water together. "Climbed back up," he said. His tone stayed short and brushed off. "River spit me out downstream. Killed the jerk with me. Broke his neck on the rocks." He shrugged. A quick lift of his shoulder hid the effort it cost him. Blood streaked his side. His frame sagged with tiredness. "You're still here, so quit shouting. We're not out of it yet."

Her anger faded. It left a hollow pang in its place. She studied him, battered, bruised, but standing strong despite it all. He'd fought his way back to her. He'd defied the river's pull. That truth settled deep, heavy and real. She'd grieved him. She'd carried his loss like another betrayal. Now he stood here, alive and snapping at her for staying put. A shaky laugh slipped out, edged with weariness. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Tears still shone on her face. "I couldn't leave you," she said. Her voice softened, fragile and bare. "Not after… everything."

His face shifted. A hint of something gentler flickered in his stormy eyes. It might've been surprise, or understanding. He stepped closer. His boots crunched on fallen leaves. She flinched. It was a reflex from too many hits taken. He paused. He lifted his hands slight. He showed empty palms, a quiet peace offering. "You're hurt worse than I thought," he said. His gaze dropped to her shoulder. Blood soaked through the bandage. It stained her shirt a deep, nasty red. "We need shelter. Right now."

She nodded. She felt too tired to argue with him. She followed as he moved deeper into the woods. His pace slowed, careful. He seemed to feel her weariness too. He matched it with his own. The trees parted. They revealed a cave in a rocky spot. It looked small, dark. Its entrance tangled with ivy. Kade ducked inside. He waved her in after him. She stepped into the cool, damp space. She felt grateful for the relief on her burning skin. The air carried a scent of moss and soil. It calmed her racing heart. He dropped his pack near the entrance with a thud. He fished out a worn blanket. He tossed it her way with a grunt.

"Sit," he said. He pointed to a flat stone at the back. "I'll fix that shoulder again."

She sank onto the rock. She gripped the blanket tight. Her body shook as the adrenaline drained away. It left her raw and open. Kade knelt beside her. His hands stayed steady as he peeled back the wet bandage. His touch felt softer than she'd expected, careful despite his roughness. Pain shot through her, hot and sharp. It pulled a hiss from her throat. She clamped her lips shut. She held it in. She watched him through a blur of unshed tears. His fingers brushed her skin as he wrapped fresh cloth from his pack around the wound. She noticed scars on his arms, faint, jagged lines carved into his flesh. They told stories of fights she couldn't guess.

"You've got more scars than I do," she said. Her voice wobbled but held curiosity. She wanted to crack his guarded shell, just a little. "What happened to you?"

He stopped for a moment. His hands paused on the bandage. Then he tied it off with a quick, firm pull. "Fights I didn't lose," he said. His voice stayed low and guarded. A shadow of pain hid beneath his words, locked away tight. He leaned back. He wiped his hands on his torn pants. His eyes flicked to her belly, then back to her face, quick and searching. "Rest. We move at dawn."

She pulled the blanket around her shoulders. Its rough weave made a thin shield against the cold. "You didn't have to come back," she said. Her voice stayed quiet, laced with thanks and regret. "You could've kept running."

Kade's gaze met hers, gray and strong. It held her still. Her breath caught in her chest. "Didn't feel like it," he said, plain and blunt. He turned away. He dug into his pack again. His shoulders stiffened, though. It hinted silent at something he wouldn't say. She felt a thin bond between them, delicate but growing.

The cave fell quiet, heavy with stillness. Water dripped somewhere deep inside, a soft echo. Leaves rustled faint beyond the entrance, carried by the wind. Lila curled into the blanket. Her body felt sore and weary. Her mind raced through the night, Kade's fall, her despair, his impossible return. He remained a mystery, a rogue with scars and hidden pasts. But he'd come back for her when no one else would. Her hand rested on her belly. She felt the baby's faint kick. She whispered to it, a promise carved deep inside her. "We're not alone anymore."

Kade stood guard at the cave's mouth, a dark shape against the night. She watched him. She noted the hard line of his jaw. His hands stayed loose but ready, poised for trouble. He'd survived the river. He'd dragged himself back to her. She wondered what drove him, what ghosts lingered in those gray eyes. Memories of Tom surfaced, his gentle smile, a lifeline she still held. But Kade was here, fierce and alive, a protector she hadn't sought but couldn't push away.

A scream broke the quiet, shrill and human. It came from the forest, laced with panic. Lila sat up fast. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The blanket slipped off her shoulders. It pooled on the rock. Kade turned sharp. His body tensed like a drawn bow. His eyes shot to the cave's entrance. They narrowed fast. "Hunters," he muttered. His voice growled low. He grabbed his pack. He slung it over his shoulder in one move. "They've got your scent, or mine."

Her gut plunged. Fear gripped her throat tight. She staggered to her feet. The cave tilted around her. Hunters, cruel shadows with silver weapons, the ones who'd taken Tom. Kade's eyes locked onto hers, hard and urgent. "Stay close," he said. His tone left no room for argument. "We're not done running."

She nodded. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She stepped toward the entrance. Her shoulder ached with every move. Her will toughened. It pushed past the terror. Kade lived, a scarred fighter beside her. Together, they'd face the night, hunters, wolves, whatever waited. They slipped into the dark. The scream hung in the air behind them. It promised more danger ahead. It chilled her bones. Her heart beat with a new truth. She wasn't just surviving for her baby now. She was surviving for herself too.