BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 213: A TAIL ON OUR BACK

Chapter 213: A TAIL ON OUR BACK

{ "May you have the vision to find it, the courage to get on to it, and the perseverance to follow it." }

We moved quietly, but even so, it prickled along the back of my neck, the ancient, animal knowing that we were no longer alone.

I slowed my steps, holding out a hand to stop Qadira. She froze immediately, her body tense, her hand drifting instinctively to the dagger at her belt.

"We’re being followed," I whispered, barely moving my lips.

Qadira glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the fog and shadow. "Are you sure?" she breathed, though her hand stayed on her weapon.

"Positive." I shifted my stance, listening. The forest had gone too quiet—the kind of silence that meant something was hunting or waiting.

The Mira magic inside me stirred, sharpening my senses even more. I could feel it now: footsteps muffled carefully, someone moving when we moved, pausing when we paused. Keeping just enough distance to stay unseen... but close enough to strike if they chose.

I dropped into a crouch, motioning for Qadira to do the same. "Keep your voice low," I murmured.

Her nod was sharp and sure, but I caught the flicker of fear in her eyes—and the fierce determination that burned right behind it. "We keep moving," I said, rising back to a crouch-walk. "Straight to the Mira home. Fast, but not frantic. If they attack, we stand together."

"Always," Qadira whispered fiercely.

The mist seemed to press tighter against us as we moved, the trees closing in. Every crack of a branch, every sigh of the wind felt loaded, dangerous. But the magic in my blood pulsed brighter now, leading us forward, stronger than the fear. Whoever was on our trail, whatever shadow stalked us, it would not stop us from reaching the Mira home.

An hour later, the forest had not loosened its grip, and neither had whoever was following us. No matter how we wove through the trees, no matter how carefully we moved, the shadow stayed glued to our trail.

I could hear Qadira’s breathing growing sharper, more frustrated with every step. She was like a hunting cat forced to play the prey, and it was wearing on both of us.

Finally, she stopped dead in the middle of the path, spun on her heel, and glared at me.

"This is ridiculous," she hissed under her breath, her fists clenched tight. "We know they’re there. They know we know. Why are we still playing this game?"

I opened my mouth to caution her, but she pressed on, her voice a rough whisper.

"Let’s bait them," she said, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "We pretend to be weak, slow, lost. Let them come in close... and then we hit back. Hard."

I stared at her for a heartbeat, my Mira senses screaming that the danger was near—and growing bolder by the minute.

"Qadira..." I started, uncertainty flickering at the edge of my words.

But she shook her head, her jaw set.

"We can’t keep running, Ma. If we let them choose the ground, the time, the moment—they will win. We fight now. On our terms."

For a moment, the only sound between us was the whisper of the mist curling through the leaves.

I looked at her, my fierce, stubborn daughter, the fire in her blood burning bright enough to blind.

And I smiled. "Alright," I said, my voice low and sure. "Let’s show them exactly how wrong they are."

Qadira grinned, wicked and wild, and together we began to slow our pace, deliberately stumbling here, pausing there, painting ourselves as tired, lost prey for the predator stalking us.

The hunter was about to learn they were not chasing sheep, and they were walking straight into the jaws of the Kayne power. The sound of armoured boots crunching through the underbrush snapped the air taut around us. Qadira and I turned at the same moment, blades half-drawn, the forest mist parting just enough to reveal the flash of royal colours beneath dark cloaks.

At their front stood Desmond Marcel.

My stomach twisted, not from fear but from a gut-deep warning I had learned long ago to trust.

"Desmond," I said coldly, my voice a blade honed to a fine, dangerous edge.

He stepped closer, lifting his hands slightly, a gesture of peace I did not believe for a heartbeat.

"Sierra. Qadira," he greeted, too smoothly.

"Why are you following us?" I demanded, voice low and sharp.

Qadira shifted closer to my side, her fingers twitching near her blade, her body tight with suspicion. She knew the danger as well as I did. Desmond Marcel was not just some royal errand boy.

He was the uncle of Lord Marcel, and we had not told anyone about our trip, and I was sure that Aurora did not send him.

"We were just making routine checks when we spotted you and decided to follow you from a distance to ensure your safety, "He responded as the liars fell off his feet.

I laughed under my breath, a humourless sound. "You are fucking kidding me, right?"

His smile did not falter. If anything, it deepened, like a cat amused by a mouse pretending it had claws. "We’re not here to stop you," he said smoothly. "Only to ensure you don’t stumble into dangers you can’t handle."

Beside me, Qadira’s voice cracked through the mist like a whip. "Funny," she said. "We can handle anything... except traitors pretending to be friends."

For the first time, a flicker of something annoyed passed over Desmond’s face. It was gone in an instant, buried under polished calm. "I meant no harm, "He responded.

I met his gaze steadily, refusing to blink. "Go back Desmond. We do not need to be protected "

The air between us snapped taut, but after a long moment, Desmond simply inclined his head, stepping aside with a courtly sweep of his hand. He nodded and moved past him and his guards without another word, but I felt their eyes boring into our backs, heavy with secrets.

Qadira leaned in close as we walked, her voice a breath in my ear. "He is fucking lying" she whispered. "I don’t trust him."

"Neither do I," I murmured back. "A viper wears a crown as easily as a traitor wears a smile." The mist swallowed us whole again, the path ahead dark and winding but the real danger, I knew, was slithering right behind us.

I could feel them, even without looking back. The steady pressure of eyes on us. Desmond’s royal guard was good, trained. They knew how to stay out of sight, how to keep just far enough behind to make it seem like we were imagining things. But I was not imagining anything.

We needed to lose them, and I halted abruptly, my boots crunching underfoot. Qadira stopped beside me; her breath sharp in the cold air. She did not need to ask why I had stopped. She knew.

"Camp," I murmured, my voice low. "We make camp."

Her eyes flicked over me, suspicion and strategy crossing her face. "We’re not stopping. Not with them behind us."

I gave her a sharp look, my hand brushing against the rough bark of a nearby tree, steadying myself. "We’re not stopping. We’re hiding."

The plan formed quickly. We had set a false trail; make it look like we were going to settle for the night. Something simple, something that would give Desmond’s guards the illusion that we were at ease.

"Gather what you can," I said, already moving to start pulling dry branches from the forest floor. "We’re not staying long. Just enough to make them think we’re waiting."

Qadira gave a quick nod, her face hardening with determination. She moved swiftly, gathering firewood, her eyes constantly flicking back toward where she knew the guards were lingering just out of sight.

I worked with purpose, setting up the camp as efficiently as I could. The fire would be small, just enough to give off a glow without giving us away completely. I made sure to leave a few signs of life—splayed blankets, a half-filled water skin but no more than necessary. No need to overdo it.

Qadira set to work on the false trail, leaving obvious footprints that led away from the camp toward the opposite side of the forest. We made sure to stay quiet, not a word between us as we worked, each of us knowing our role in the quiet, dangerous game we were playing.

When everything was set, I stepped back, eyes scanning the mist-heavy forest one last time. I could almost hear Desmond’s men, moving in a calculated pattern. It was only a matter of time before they came in closer to investigate.

"Let’s go," I whispered, and Qadira did not hesitate, moving coordinated with me as we melted into the forest’s darker corners, shadows swallowing us whole.

We did not waste time. We worked in silence, moving swiftly and silently, staying low. The trick was simply to lead them toward the camp, make them think we were somewhere we were not. We doubled back as we had planned, using the trees to shield ourselves, the mist to blur our tracks.

And then, finally, we stopped, a safe distance from our false camp. We watched for a long moment, the sounds of the forest settling around us. The guards were still there, just as we had expected, stepping into the camp we had left behind, poking through the fire and blankets.

Qadira gave a small, satisfied grin. "They’ll waste time here, thinking we’re hidden in the camp."

I could not stop the tight smile that curled on my lips. "Just enough time for us to disappear into the mountain." We let the night swallow us whole again, moving deeper into the wilderness. Desmond Marcel and his guards would never know what hit them. We were a step ahead, and we intended to stay that way.