Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance-Chapter 22: Hidden Enclave

Athena’s pov

I should’ve shifted. Should’ve used my wolf form and torn through the forest at lightning speed. But I couldn’t risk it. Not with the King’s guards behind me. My wolf left a scent trail that could travel for miles. Human form was slower—fragile—but easier to hide. Easier to disappear.

So I ran.

Branches clawed at my skin, roots tried to trip me, and still I pushed forward, the pain dull compared to the roar of blood in my ears.

The howls behind me weren’t warning calls anymore.

They were hunting calls.

They were close.

The King’s personal wolves, his inner circle—monsters bred for nothing but loyalty and obedience. Not one of them would hesitate to rip me apart if ordered.

I ducked beneath a fallen log, slipping on the moss, my heartbeat slamming against my ribs. My muscles screamed, begging me to shift, to release the beast inside me, to run like I was meant to.

But I couldn’t.

They would feel it.

That much power lighting up the woods like a damn flare? They’d descend on me in seconds.

So I ran on aching legs, trusting my instincts, trusting that I was actually on the right part away from this damn place.

And then I saw it.

A narrow crevice in the side of a rocky slope. Hidden by brambles and shadow, it opened into a shallow cave just wide enough to crawl inside.

I dove for it, scraping my elbows and knees against the stone as I shoved myself into the darkness. The cold hit me immediately. Damp. Stale. But it wrapped around me like safety.

I curled into the far corner, clawed fingers digging into the earth.

I tore open the pouch of wolfsbane from my cloak and smeared it over my neck, my wrists, the inside of my arms. The scent was foul, acidic—but it masked me. It had to.

Just in time.

A shadow passed outside the cave—huge, rippling muscle beneath slick black fur. One of the King’s personal wolf. His Alpha form.

He was majestic and terrifying, a beast sculpted from raw magic and rage. His red eyes flicked toward the cave, nostrils flaring.

He stopped.

Right there.

Just outside.

I froze. Every cell in my body screamed for silence. For stillness.

He sniffed once... again...

A low growl rumbled in his throat, vibrating the air. I had never felt that amount of tense in my entire life. It was like if I shifted even just a little, I would be shred apart immediately.

Then—just like that—he took off, charging deeper into the forest, his body a blur of shadow and smoke.

Gone.

I let out a breath too fast, too loud, and slapped a hand over my mouth.

I stayed there.

Crouched.

Listening.

No sound.

No footsteps.

Just my heartbeat and the wind.

I had escaped.

For now.

But I didn’t feel safe. Not even close.

I stayed hidden in the cave until the silence became unbearable. Every minute stretched like a blade against my nerves. My body ached from holding still, from the cold rock pressing into my spine. But worse than the pain was the waiting. Waiting so I wouldn’t be found. So I wouldn’t be dragged back.

I couldn’t wait anymore.

When I was sure—absolutely sure—they had passed, I crawled out. The air outside was damp and heavy, the scent of rain clinging to the trees. The woods were eerily quiet, like the forest itself had witnessed what passed and dared not speak of it.

I moved quickly.

Not running now—pacing myself. My legs were sore, my feet bleeding, and the wolfsbane still stung against my skin. But I moved, determined.

I didn’t have a destination anymore. Just one goal: away.

Away from the palace. Away from the ritual. Away from him.

I didn’t even know what I’d do if I made it to the borders. I had no allies out there. No name to claim. No pack that would risk war with the King to take me in. At least not anymore.

But none of that mattered. I had to keep moving.

The trees thinned, the terrain changing beneath my feet—rocky now, damp with moss and slick with early dew. Somewhere in the distance, water rushed. A river. Maybe I could cross it, throw them off for good.

I picked up my pace.

But as I reached the ridge, I felt it again.

That unnatural stillness.

My steps slowed.

Something in the air shifted—heavier. Colder. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin.

I lifted my head.

And he was there.

The King.

Standing right in the middle of the path ahead, hands clasped behind his back, dressed in black from head to toe. No guards.

Just him.

His silver eyes gleamed in the faint light.

Like he’d been expecting me.

Like he knew.

I felt my breath stop for a moment.

I didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

He just stared at me, quiet, composed, like the forest itself bowed around him.

And then — finally — he smiled.

Not kind.

Not amused.

A cold, terrifying smile that said everything without saying a word.

"Oh, Athena," the King’s voice echoed through the clearing like silk over steel, slow and amused. "I must say, you’ve made the most unwise decision."

I froze mid-step.

Before I could turn, before I could even breathe, he was there—faster than thought, faster than my eyes could track. His hand clamped around my wrist like a vice, cold, unyielding. My entire body locked up. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t shift. His grip tightened, slowly, like he enjoyed feeling my pulse falter under his thumb.

"Now," he mused softly, stepping closer, his face inches from mine, his gray eyes unreadable, "what do I do with you?"

He tilted his head, and for the briefest moment, I saw something ancient in his eyes. Something else entirely.

"Do I finish you off here?" he continued, almost idly. "Break your bones, let the crows find what’s left by dawn? Or should I drag you back and make a lesson out of you? Let them see what happens to the ones who try to run?"

My heart thundered in my chest, but I forced my voice out.

"I saw what you did with Cassius," I whispered. "You cursed him, didn’t you? He’s your loyal right hand, and you still—" My voice cracked. "You’re cruel. You’re vile. Why would I ever want to follow someone like—"

His laugh cut me off.

Low. Mocking. Cold.

Taking a gamble

"Oh, little wolf," he said, squeezing my wrist tighter. Pain flared white-hot up my arm, but I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give him that.

"You think you’ve uncovered something powerful? Something damning?" He leaned even closer, his breath a whisper against my ear. "You don’t even know what game you’re playing. If I wanted to I would put an end to you right now."

I glared at him, baring my teeth. "Then kill me."

He paused.

And smiled.

"Not yet," he murmured. "I still have a use for you."

Then, just as quickly as he’d grabbed me, he released me. I staggered back, but before I could flee again, his magic snaked around my ankles, my arms—binding me in place like roots from the earth.

"You will come back with me," he said, voice sharp now, no trace of warmth left. "You want to see the real consequences of disobedience? You’ll have plenty of time to reflect—locked away where no one can hear you scream."

And with that, everything went black.

The cold had teeth.

It gnawed at my skin, my spine, my thoughts. Silver shackles dug into my wrists, dull but cruel enough to keep my wolf sedated. The stone beneath me was damp. Old. The kind of cold that didn’t leave — just buried itself deeper.

I didn’t know how long I’d been here. Hours? A day?

Then I heard it — slow, deliberate footsteps. Not hurried. Not cautious.

Confident.

The door opened, and the King stepped in, wrapped in black and shadow like the Throne itself had birthed him.

He looked down at me — not with disgust or rage, but with something worse.

Curiosity.

"You’re more trouble than I expected," he said calmly, stepping into the room like it belonged to him. Like I did.

I didn’t answer.

"You really thought you could just run away," he said, voice quiet, thoughtful. "You should’ve known that was never going to work."

I stayed still, eyes locked on his.

He crouched down beside me, one elbow resting on his knee. "You’re not weak, Athena. I see it. But you’re a bit lacking on the smart side."

His voice dropped lower. "But no matter, that can also be worked on."

I scoffed — dry, bitter. "You want me chained, a puppet that would simply await her death."

"Is that really what you think?" he murmured.

A tense silence.

Then he leaned closer, his words brushing the shell of my ear. "You think you know the truth. But things are not always what they seem."

I flinched, despite myself.

He smiled faintly. "There’s more to all of this."

I froze.

His next words were slow. Measured. "But I won’t show you unless you ask. Unless you beg for the truth."

I turned away, jaw tight.

He stood, adjusting his cloak as though this was just another boring meeting. "For now," he added, turning to the door. "I’d enjoy watching you break."

His fingers brushed the handle. "But when you’re ready, I’ll show you what’s beneath the Throne."

Then he left me there.

Alone.

In the dark.

Shivering — not from the cold this time, but from the weight of something I hadn’t seen coming.

What is the truth?

And why did a part of me... want to know?

Days blurred.

Maybe it was days. Maybe it was weeks. The silence stretched so long it began to sound like something. Like the whisper of madness curling in the corners of my mind.

No windows.

No clock.

Just the sound of footsteps... and the food trays that slid in through the small hatch of the door like I was some feral beast in a cage.

The meals were just there.

Always brought by guards in their wolf form—large, silver-gray beasts with eyes like steel. They never looked at me. Never spoke. Just placed the tray down and vanished again behind the iron door.

I never tried to talk to them. I knew better not to.

I sat in the corner most days, knees tucked under my chin, cloak wrapped tight even though the stone-cold air had long seeped into my bones. I didn’t scream. Didn’t beg. That would’ve been too easy.

But each day, the silence wore on me more.

It wasn’t the hunger or the chill. It was the stillness. Not knowing.

What was happening outside? Was Jesse still alive? Had the king begun the ritual?

And Cassius...

Cassius, who had looked at me like he was terrified for me.

Athena, leave. You don’t belong here. Not anymore.

What had he meant?

I clenched my fists.

He said the king would show me the truth... only if I broke.

What did that mean? What is the truth? What secrets still lived behind these black walls?

I refused to ask. Refused to give the king the satisfaction of thinking I needed answers from him.

But the questions burned.

At night, I barely slept. Every sound made me jolt. Every creak of stone, every shift of breath behind that iron door set my pulse racing.

I wasn’t scared of death.

I was scared of not knowing what I was dying for.

Then—on what must have been the seventh day, maybe the tenth—a different scent wafted in with the food tray.

Blood.

Fresh. Familiar.

Wolf blood.

My heart stumbled.

I didn’t touch the tray.

Not that night.

Not the next.

I sat with my back to the wall, my body growing weaker, but my mind sharper, harder.

I didn’t break yet.

But something inside me was splintering.