Sleep didn't creep in; it tackled her. One second Lina's blinking at the cabin ceiling, mind an absolute dumpster fire of worry and half-baked plans—bam. Lights out. Nothing but black.
Then—moonlight. And him.
Suddenly she's barefoot, bolting through a forest that's straight-up enchanted. Everything's dipped in this blue-silver glow, trees swaying like they're slow-dancing to a song only the wind gets. The ground's all squishy and cold, moss squelching under her feet—honestly, it's less like dirt, more like she's sprinting across old dreams.
And scared? Nah, not even close. She's got that wild, soaring feeling, like nothing can touch her. Like gravity forgot her name.
And there's Rafe. Not in wolf mode, not hiding, just… there. Still shirtless, because why wouldn't he be (seriously, does this guy own clothes?), but this time he's not bleeding out or brooding. He laughs as he runs, and it hits her right in the chest—pure, stupid happiness.
They tear through the trees, weaving in and out like it's muscle memory. Like they were born for this. Her shoulder skims his arm, and boom—the mark ignites, all heat and wanting, not pain, just this wild, hungry ache.
She stops. Rafe does too, no questions.
Suddenly they're in a clearing, moon spotlighting them like it's a stage. Rafe's eyes are glowing (of course they are), warm and gold, even here, even now.
"You feel it too," he says.
She can barely breathe, manages a nod. "What is this?"
He grins, that dangerous, secret grin. "Us. Unbound."
Then he kisses her.
It's not desperate. Not sloppy. It's the kind of kiss that makes the whole damn forest go quiet, moon pausing to watch. His hand finds the back of her neck, warm and steady. The mark on her shoulder goes nuclear, and her body's all nerves and wildfire.
When they finally pull apart, he whispers, "You're mine."
She wakes up gasping. Back in the cabin. Fire still doing its thing in the hearth. No wolves, no monsters, just the echo of that dream thundering in her chest.
Her shoulder's on fire. She kicks off the blanket, hands shaking, yanks her shirt aside—holy hell. The mark's different. Not just a crescent now, it's grown, gold lines twisting down her skin like living lightning. It's glowing. Pulsing. Like it got hungry and ate the dream.
She drags herself over to the sink, practically faceplants into the cold water. Like that's gonna help. But Rafe—his kiss, the way he looked at her—it's burned into her brain. She knows, deep down, that wasn't just a dream.
Her body remembers. That's the scary part.
Outside, Rafe's already up, sharpening a blade at the edge of the woods. Dude looks like he hasn't slept in a decade. Maybe he hasn't. Maybe he was there too.
"Hey," Lina says, voice all wobbly.
He glances up, eyes flicking to her face, her shoulder. That look says everything.
"You saw it too," she says, pulse in her throat.
He nods. "Yeah."
She sits next to him, awkward and close. Neither says a word. The woods are holding their breath again, but not out of fear—something else. Like the world's paused, waiting to see what happens next.
Rafe scrubs a hand through his hair. "Dream-sharing's rare."
"So… not just some weird fantasy?"
"No," he deadpans. "It was real. In its way."
Lina's stomach does a somersault. "And the mark?"
He looks at her, really looks, and it's like gravity just got dialed up. "It's binding itself to mine."
Her mouth goes dry. "That's… what does that even mean?"
He hesitates—not dodging, just searching for words. Finally he pulls his collar down, shows his own shoulder. The mark's there, half-hidden by a scar. But now it looks like hers—gold, alive, matching. Connected…
She let out this shaky breath, chest tight like she'd just run a damn marathon instead of having a conversation. "So… this is what moon-marked means? For real?"
Rafe shook his head, voice barely a whisper. "Nah. This? It's more than that."
He hesitated, words kind of tumbling out, like it actually hurt to spit them out:
"I think we're fated mates."
Wow. Those words just—boom. Heavy as hell. Like someone dropped a cinder block straight into her ribcage.
"Nope," she blurted, shaking her head hard enough she nearly got dizzy. "No way. I don't—what does that even mean?"
He met her eyes, steady. "Means we're made for each other. Like, cosmically. The moon picked us out of the crowd. Our power, our souls, they're all tangled up now."
She just about snapped, voice all sharp edges. "Yeah? Well, I didn't exactly sign up for some ancient soul-bonding lottery, thanks."
He barked out a laugh—zero humor in it. "You think I did? But here we are. And it's not just some pretty legend. It's real. If you get hurt, I'll feel it. If you die—" He just cut himself off, jaw tight.
Lina shot up, started pacing, energy buzzing under her skin. That weird, almost itchy heat started creeping up her neck again—ugh, not this. She squinted. "Wait, so, this isn't really about us, huh?"
Rafe shook his head, lips pressed thin. "Nope."
She spun back to him. "Spill it."
He pushed up from the ground, shoulders squared. "If we're really fated… the pack's gonna see it as a prophecy, or a threat. Especially because of your bloodline."
Her stomach dropped. "You mean 'cause I'm a rogue's kid."
He nodded, regret all over his face. "Half-Flameborn, half-outcast. You think the elders won't flip if they find out? Some of them'll call you a bridge. The rest… they'll say you're poison to the bloodline. That this bond is a taint."
Her voice was barely there. "And the rogues?"
Rafe's jaw clenched. "They'll want you too. Proof their blood still has teeth. And if that Alpha who attacked us gets wind of this bond?"
She finished for him, heart thumping. "He comes back for round two."
"He won't stop," Rafe said, dead serious now. "You're not just moon-marked anymore. You're promised. Both sides want a piece."
Lina stepped back, pulse pounding so loud she could barely hear herself think.
"So what… we just kicked off a war? Because of a dream and a stupid mark?"
Rafe didn't say anything. Didn't have to. Was all over his face.
Later, Lina sat up on the ridge alone, knees hugged tight, eyes glued to the sky. The moon—just a skinny slice tonight—looked like it was staring her down. The dream's echo still fizzed under her skin, electric and restless. Her mark throbbed, synced up with her racing pulse.
She hated herself for wanting to feel it again. The kiss. The rush—God, it was reckless. Stupid. Wrong.
But real. That was the kicker. It was real.
And deep down, in the part of her that was used to running—she didn't actually want to run from this.
Not that she was about to start daydreaming about some fairytale mate bond. This wasn't love at first sight, or some moonlit happily-ever-after. This was survival. Territory. Blood.
And the way the wind hissed in the trees tonight… yeah, something was coming.
She pressed her hand to the photo in her jacket pocket—her mom's mark staring back, a little piece of history and warning all in one.
Past. Future. All mashed together.
Somewhere out there, a howl ripped through the night—low, rough, and loaded with warning.
She stood up slow, every sense on high alert.
For the first time, she didn't just feel like prey.
She felt hunted, sure.
But also alive.
And ready for whatever came next.
Then her voice broke the silence. "Something called me storm-born. It wasn't human."
Rafe's breath hitched, eyes wide. "That's… old. I've only heard that word in one place."
She didn't blink, just burned holes through him with her eyes. "Where?"
He blinked, slow, as if he'd just noticed she was standing there, as if she'd suddenly grown a second head or something.
"Rogues. Only among the rogues."