Page 28 of My Fated Mate

In the chaos, my wolf takes over. He fights with a ferocity born of rage and desperation.

Each blow I land is a scream against the unfairness of it all.

Maybe, I think with a sliver of hope, maybe the prophecy can be defied.

Maybe the pull I feel towards Elowen, the undeniable bond that transcends logic, is enough.

But the battlefield is a harsh teacher.

As I lock eyes with the alpha rogue, his eyes burning with a cold hunger, a devastating truth crashes over me. The rogues fightwith savage abandon, fueled by a darkness that chills me to the bone.

This isn't just a territorial dispute; it's a battle for the very soul of this land. And I, without the power prophesied, am fighting with one hand tied behind my back.

Disheartened, I watch as a rogue warrior breaks through our line, heading straight for a young Ember Pack pup who stands frozen in fear.

I react instinctively, shoving the young pup aside and taking the full brunt of the rogue's attack.

Pain explodes in my shoulder, a searing agony that sends me crashing to the ground. But the sight of the young pup scrambling to safety is enough to fuel my rage.

With a roar that echoes through the clearing, I lunge at the rogue, fueled by a desperate need to protect, a need that transcends my own desires.

As the battle reaches its climax, exhaustion gnaws at me, and the weight of the truth settles like lead in my gut.

Elowen, with her kindness and her passion for healing, will never be the weapon this fight demands. She deserves a love story, not a life on the battlefield.

With a heavy heart, I accept the truth. My bond with Elowen may be real, but it's a love story that cannot be.

She may not be the answer, but a part of me will always yearn for the warmth of her touch and the light in her eyes. And for the sake of my people, for the sake of the world, I must push those feelings aside.

The search for the prophesied fated mate is still my mission.

Chapter 8

ELOWEN

Anxiety gnaws at me like a persistent rodent, its tiny teeth scrabbling at my insides. Every creak of the floorboard, every rustle of wind against the windowpane sends my heart leaping into my throat. How much longer can I endure this agonizing wait?

Hours seem to stretch into eternity as I huddle on the bed, clutching a threadbare pillow to my chest. My father and Thorne left for the rogue battle what felt like a lifetime ago, and the silence in their wake was deafening.

Finn sits beside me, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I burrow into his warmth, seeking solace in his familiar presence. "What if…" I whisper, the words catching in my throat. "What if they don't return?"

His grip tightens momentarily before relaxing. I lift my head, peering up at him. His face is uncharacteristically shadowed, a flicker of something akin to pain crossing it.

"Don't say that," he murmurs, his voice rough.

"But what if it's true?" I persist, tears stinging my eyes. "They could be out there… injured, or worse."

He avoids my gaze, his jaw clenching tight. "They're strong, Elowen," he says finally, his voice strained. "They'll be alright."

His words lack conviction, and the silence that follows speaks volumes.

A seed of doubt has been planted, a tiny fissure growing in the dam of my hope.

But then I see it—a glimpse of something deeper on Finn's face, a flicker of hurt that tugs at my heartstrings.

"Finn?" I whisper, concerned. "What's wrong?"

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze distant. "There's someone… someone I met when I was with Thorne's pack."

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