Chapter 3 I’ll find you

[Vayra's POV]

The rain hasn’t stopped. It falls in heavy curtains, turning the dirt path into a river of shadows. My feet drag through the mud, each step heavier than the last. My body feels hollow—bruised, battered, bleeding. The world tilts with every breath. My palms sting where stones split them, my shoulder burns where one caught bone.

But it’s the ache in my chest that hurts most. They called me cursed. And maybe they were right. Because what kind of creature am I, really—too wild for the dragons, too strange for the wolves? My head spins. My vision flickers. The fire under my skin trembles, weak and restless. I stumble forward, clutching my side, blood seeping between my fingers, warm against the cold.

The forest thins, opening into a lonely stretch of asphalt—black and slick beneath the storm. I blink, swaying. The road hums faintly, a low vibration beneath my bare feet. Then, a sound. A deep, rumbling growl. No—an engine. I lift my head.

Through the haze of rain, two beams of light slice through the darkness—bright, steady, closing fast. A motorcycle. I try to move, but my knees buckle. Pain flares white-hot. My body crumples before I can catch myself. The world spins. My breath shudders.

And then—hands. Strong. Rough. Warm. They catch me before I hit the ground, lifting me with a gentleness that feels impossible.

“Hey. Hey, easy......” The voice is deep, steady, edged with command. I blink through the blur. My vision clears—barely. He’s kneeling in front of me, rain streaking down his face, eyes locked on mine.

Amber eyes—glowing faintly, like molten gold. His scent hits me next—smoke, leather, and something primal that makes my pulse skip. My breath catches. My fire stirs. It knows him.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, jaw tightening. “Shit, you’re hurt bad.”

He shrugs off his jacket—black leather, heavy—and drapes it around my shoulders. It’s warm, smells like him. My fingers clutch at it instinctively, even as my body trembles.

“Who did this to you?” he demands. His voice is low, dangerous. Not to me—never to me—but to whoever touched me before. I try to speak, but the words come out broken.

“My… village.” His eyes darken, fury sparking behind them.

“Why?”

“Because… I’m not one of them.”

He studies me, searching my face, and something in his gaze shifts—like a lock turning in his chest. His hand comes up, brushing my cheek. His thumb lingers on the dirt-streaked skin, gentle, reverent.

“My mate?” The words aren’t a question. They’re instinct—pure, ancient truth. And when I meet his eyes, my heart knows he’s right. The bond flares, sudden and electric, snapping through my veins like lightning. My fire roars to life, glowing faint beneath my skin. He sees it. And instead of fear, there’s wonder.

“What are you?” he whispers, voice low, rough with awe. I open my mouth to answer, but the world tilts again. Darkness crowds the edges of my vision, creeping in like a tide. My knees weaken. The bond pulses, a bright thread pulling me to him even as everything else slips away.

“Hey!” His voice is urgent now, hands steadying me. “Stay with me. I’m getting you to a hospital.”

He scoops me into his arms, strong and certain, and rises. The world sways around us—rain, thunder, headlights flashing past—but his hold never falters. His warmth bleeds through the cold, through the storm, through the pain.

For the first time in forever, I feel safe. Pressed against him, the fire under my skin quiets, but only for a breath. Fate isn’t done with me. The roar of another engine cuts through the storm. Headlights flare behind him.

Three black BMWs glide into view, tires hissing over wet asphalt like snakes through grass. Doors open in perfect unison. Men in suits step out—tall, silent, precise. Their faces are hidden behind tinted glasses, their movements too sharp, too exact to be human. The man holding me stiffens; his scent shifts, anger and threat rolling off him like a warning.

“Who the hell are you?”

The tallest of them steps forward, a phone pressed to his ear, voice calm and detached. “We’re here for her.”

“The hell you are.” The Alpha’s growl rumbles through his chest. “She’s hurt. She needs a doctor.”

“She’s our client,” the man replies smoothly. “We’re under orders to retrieve her. You will stand down.”

He shifts me higher in his arms, eyes narrowing, every line of his body coiled. “She’s my mate.”

The word lands heavy, crackling with power. The men don’t flinch. The one in front lowers his phone, his smile thin.

“Then you should’ve claimed her sooner.”

Before the Alpha can move, two of the suited men blur into action—too fast, too trained. One grabs his arm, twisting; another presses a syringe to my neck.

I gasp. The world blurs.

“No.....” His roar shakes the air. “Don’t you touch her!”

But it’s too late. The sting hits; my body goes numb. My eyes flutter open just long enough to see him fight—fists flying, teeth bared, his fire rising against the storm. And then—pain. Light. Silence. The last thing I feel is his heartbeat beneath my cheek. The last thing I hear is his voice, breaking through the rain.

“I’ll find you. I swear it.”

Then darkness takes me. Cold, thick, absolute. I sink into it like water, the sound of his voice echoing somewhere far behind. And when I wake, it won’t be in his arms. It will be behind glass, beneath harsh light, where monsters wear silk and smiles — where voices are soft but promises sharp, and girls like me are not saved, but sold.

Stripped of names.

Measured like meat and caged.