Falling For The Demon Wolf Chapter 31: Cast Outs

Inara stayed crouched beside Amira’s lifeless body, fingers curled tightly into the blood-stained hem of her robes. For the first ti since I’d t her, she didn’t look like the light-hearted girl always ready with a teasing smirk or a snarky remark. She looked broken.

"She never wanted to hurt anyone," Inara said quietly. "That’s why they cast her out. She refused the hunt."

I swallowed hard, my gaze drifting to the blood seeping into the cracks of the stone. "And they punished her for it."

"They always do."

We sat there in silence for a few monts, the weight of what just happened pressing against my chest like a stone. Then Inara stood, brushing her hands off on her skirt even though the blood had already soaked in.

"We need to move her before the guards find her. If they know she ca back—"

"They’ll think we helped her."

Inara nodded grimly.

I helped her lift Amira’s body. It was heavier than I expected, limp and cooling rapidly. Together, we carried her toward the edge of the forest where the shadows swallowed everything whole. Inara found a shallow dip between the trees, and we laid her down gently.

"She deserved better than this," I said softly.

"They all do," Inara replied. "That’s why you can’t let them break you, Violet. Whatever that mark is, whatever it ans—they’re afraid of it."

I hesitated. "Even Zain?"

She looked at , expression unreadable. "Especially Zain."

We covered Amira’s body with leaves and earth, working in silence until she was gone from sight. When we returned to the packhouse, dawn was beginning to bleed across the sky. I felt colder than I’d ever been.

Later that morning, I was summoned.

Two guards showed up at the servants’ quarters, their faces tight and unreadable.

"Alpha wants to see you," one of them said.

"Now?" I asked, heart hamring.

They didn’t respond. Just turned and expected to follow.

I did.

The walk to Zain’s chambers felt endless. The halls were alive again, buzzing with low conversations and tense energy. Eyes followed —so curious, others suspicious.

When we arrived, the guards opened the door and left standing there alone.

Zain stood by the tall windows, hands behind his back, his posture rigid. He didn’t turn when I entered.

"You didn’t co to the hall this morning," he said.

"I wasn’t allowed."

A pause.

"Still stubborn, I see."

I bristled. "Is that why you had soone take the tray from ? Punishnt?"

He turned then, slowly. His eyes locked onto mine—not angry, but... unsettled. Like he was searching for sothing he couldn’t find.

"No," he said at last. "I needed ti to think."

"About?"

His gaze flicked to my shoulder. "The mark."

I stiffened. "You know what it ans?"

He walked toward , slow and deliberate. When he stopped in front of , he reached out—not forcefully, but with a strange kind of reverence—and brushed his fingers just above where the mark rested, hidden beneath my clothes.

"No," he murmured. "I don’t. And that’s what worries ."

I stepped back instinctively, but his eyes didn’t leave mine.

"It’s old," he continued. "Older than anything I’ve seen in this territory. My father used to speak of markings like that in stories—ancient bloodlines, divine curses, celestial bindings. But no one ever saw one in real life. They were myths. Forgotten. Until now."

"So what, you think I’m cursed?" I asked, voice sharper than I ant it to be.

Zain didn’t flinch. "I don’t know what you are, Violet. But you don’t sll like prey. And that mark—it doesn’t belong to a human."

I stared at him. "Then what does it belong to?"

He was quiet for a long mont. Then: "That’s what I intend to find out."

My stomach twisted. "So what happens now? Are you going to lock up? Kill ?"

His jaw tightened. "No."

"Then what?"

"I’m going to keep you close."

The words hit harder than they should’ve.

"Why?"

"Because the council wants answers. They’re already whispering. And if I can’t give them one soon, they’ll act without ." He t my gaze again. "And I don’t want to find out what they’ll do if they think you’re a threat."

I swallowed, heat rising to my face. "I didn’t ask for this."

Zain’s voice dropped, low and unreadable. "Neither did I."

There was a knock at the door.

"Alpha," a guard called. "The scouts returned. They found another body—on the edge of the eastern woods."

Zain’s eyes darkened. "Who?"

"Cast-out. Female."

Inara’s friend.

My stomach dropped.

"Bury her quietly," Zain ordered. "No announcent."

"Yes, Alpha."

As the guard left, Zain looked at again—this ti with sothing unreadable behind his eyes.

"We’re running out of ti."

I clenched my fists. "Then tell what I need to do."

His lips curled into sothing like a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"Survive the full moon."

Three nights left.

Three nights to survive the bloodlust, the council, the mark, and whatever was waking inside .

No pressure.

Zain dismissed shortly after the guard left. No orders, no restrictions. Just that sa warning in his voice—*survive the full moon*. As if that was sothing I could just *choose* to do.

By the ti I left his chambers, my head was buzzing. Not with fear. Not even with anger. With questions.

What was this mark?

Why was it reacting now?

And why, in the deepest part of , did I feel like it wasn’t just waking up—*I* was?

***

I didn’t go back to the servant quarters. Not right away.

Instead, I found myself wandering to the old stables near the edge of the pack grounds. They hadn’t been used in years, not since the wolves here stopped keeping horses. The air slled like dry hay and dust, and the wooden beams groaned with every shift of the wind. But it was quiet. And for now, I needed quiet more than anything else.

I climbed up into the hayloft, drew my knees to my chest, and stared out the slats of the wall where moonlight spilled in thin lines across the floor.

Three nights.

I’d heard stories about full moons. About wolves who shifted so violently they shattered bones on the way down. About minds breaking, instincts taking over. Even for *normal* wolves, it was a fight for control.

So what the hell was I supposed to do?

I didn’t even *know* what I was.

My skin still burned from Zain’s earlier touch—like the mark had reacted to *him*. Which made no sense. I didn’t even like him. Not really. He was cruel, unpredictable, controlling—

But also... restrained.

Sothing told he was holding back, especially with . And that was *almost* worse.

I dropped my head against the wall with a soft thud, trying to breathe through the chaos rising in my chest.

And then I heard it—just below the loft.

Footsteps. Heavy. Slow.

I froze, instinct prickling the back of my neck.

Not Inara. Not one of the other servants. This gait was purposeful. Confident.

A shadow moved below. Then a voice.

"You always find the weirdest places to hide."

Cian.

Of course.

"Not hiding," I muttered, not bothering to move. "Just avoiding people who show up uninvited."

I heard a faint chuckle. Then the creak of wood as he climbed the ladder.

"Thought you might be up here. Zain looked like he’d just eaten glass when you left." He appeared beside , crouching with a slight grunt. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing. What did *you* say to him?"

Cian shrugged, his eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. "I might’ve hinted that you’re more than he thinks. Which, by the way, is still a massive understatent."

"Thanks," I said dryly.

He reached into his coat and tossed sothing toward . I caught it reflexively. A small cloth pouch.

I opened it—inside were a few dried herbs. Lavender, sage... and wolfsbane.

"What is this?"

"A precaution," he said. "When the moon rises, you’ll want sothing to dull the edges. Keep the worst instincts at bay."

"Is that what this is for?" I asked, holding up the wolfsbane. "Keeping the monster down?"

Cian didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was softer than I expected.

"No. That’s to remind you that you *have* control. Even if it doesn’t feel like it."

I looked away.

"Do you think I’ll shift?" I whispered. "Even if I’m not... fully like the others?"

He tilted his head, studying .

"I don’t know," he said honestly. "But I do know this—whatever’s inside you, it’s *old*. It’s not just wolf. That mark of yours... it predates pack law. Predates *all* of us."

"Then why don’t I rember anything?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Why does everything I thought I knew about myself suddenly feel like a lie?"

Cian leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Maybe because it *was* a lie."

The silence that followed felt heavy.

Then, softly, he added, "You’re not the only one who’s been lied to, Violet. So of us just figured it out sooner."

I didn’t know what that ant, exactly. But it made my chest ache.

I looked down at the pouch in my hand. "Thank you."

He stood, brushing hay off his pants. "Don’t thank yet. Just stay alive, alright? I’m betting on you."

I raised a brow. "You’re betting?"

He smirked, stepping backward toward the ladder. "Of course. I like to back the winning side."

And then he was gone, leaving only the faint scent of leather and wind in his wake.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

And when the sun rose, sothing inside shifted—not a full transformation, not yet, but enough that I knew the countdown had started.

Three nights.

Then two.

And now, with every hour that passed, the mark burned hotter.

Sothing dark was waking inside .

And I had a feeling... the full moon wasn’t going to wait.