Chapter 39: Life After Exile

DRAVEN’S POV

The night they cast me out of my hometown ... the place where I had grown up, where I had known every road, every face, every scent ... was the night I felt the most betrayed I had ever felt in my life.

I had done what they said I did, so I tried to own it as much as I could. But I was already missing Astrid.

I knew her. It wouldn’t take long before she found someone else to warm her bed. Someone else would be tasting what used to be mine. The thought gnawed at me, and I couldn’t shake it loose no matter how hard I tried.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a strange, quiet gratitude that they had given me a generous punishment ... banishment. I could have been killed. But because of Astrid, I still had air in my lungs.

She had been unfaithful to secure that. And somehow, part of me blamed her for the murder I had committed. But they say when you point two fingers at someone, three are pointing right back at you. So the blame fell on me. I was the one who pulled the trigger. I was the one who let love intoxicate me so deeply that I didn’t even realise what I had done until the deed was already finished.

On the day of my exile from Bloodmoon, I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t be happy either. My own family was losing their son to distance and silence. My mom kissed me like she was trying to memorise my face before I walked away.

I set off with nothing in my hands. Not even a toothbrush. Anything could happen on the road ahead, and I had already made my peace with that.

I thought about where I was going. The answer was nowhere. There was no destination in sight, no future I could picture for myself after this. I couldn’t fathom any reality waiting for me on the other side.

I had been banished from Bloodmoon territory, but I couldn’t go to Winterwood either. My betrothed mate, Selene ... she wouldn’t want to see me. And honestly, I wouldn’t be able to stand looking at her. All she had ever been was innocent, and I had tried to take her life. The thought of that alone was going to haunt me forever.

So I kept moving. Through cold and through heat, I pushed forward. I crossed past Morvaine’s borders and made a promise to myself ... I was never setting foot in this land again.

I crossed into the desert.

God, the nights were cold.

At intervals, I had to stop and rest because my legs were giving out beneath me. I had brought nothing with me ... no money, no transport, nothing to make the journey easier.

The Bloodmoon officials had taken every coin I had. With a slap, no less.

"A murderer like you wants to spend money? You must want to kill our economy too."

Another slap landed, and just like that, my money was gone and I was let go of it without a second thought.

I went four days without water. I moved through that desert like a camel, one foot in front of the other, until the sand finally gave way to open road. Then I stood on the roadside and waited, hoping someone would be merciful enough to stop.

No one did. The ones who pulled over listened to my situation and drove right back off.

I prayed. I waited. I prayed some more.

Finally, a car stopped. An old, beaten-up machine ... but it stopped.

"I need to get to the nearest town, please. I have no transport and I’m desperate. Anything you can do to help me."

Two guys sat in the front. They looked me over from head to toe, then told me to get in.

They drove for a long time. Long enough that I started thinking ... the city must really be far. I was just grateful I didn’t have to walk it.

Then they pulled over.

I figured they were checking the fuel or the tyres. But then the back door swung open, and they dragged me out and beat the hell out of me. They shook me down, searching for money. Nothing fell.

They hit me from both sides. When they were satisfied I had nothing, one of them said, "Let’s go. He’s useless."

They climbed back into their car and drove off.

Useless. That word landed harder than any punch. It felt like the right word for what I had become.

I sat down beside that road, and that was when the tears finally came. Every bad feeling I had been carrying ... the hurt, the shame, the loss, all of it ... clustered together at once and broke through.

I didn’t know how far I was from the nearest city. But I knew I was far enough from the desert. So I wiped my face, dusted myself off, and kept moving.

Until I reached a gate.

A large billboard stood at the entrance, bold and bright.

Welcome to Valdris.

I had read about Valdris before. Seen things about it here and there. But I had never been here as anything other than a stranger. Bloodmoon had kept me contained for so long that stepping into this place felt like the cage door had finally swung open.

I saw a flicker of something I hadn’t felt in days.

Hope. Light at the end of the tunnel type shit.

I stepped inside and the city swallowed me whole. Cars moving in every direction. Adverts playing out in the middle of the road. People smiling ... young and old ... without a care in the world.

I was immediately captivated by the sight. But with everyone minding their own business, it felt awkward to walk up to a stranger and start explaining my situation. So I moved past the main gate and the busy centre and went deeper into town.

I spotted a bar.

Looked like the kind of place that might help me ... or at the very least, the kind of place where no one asked too many questions.

I walked in.

Male and female wolves filled the space, looking all kinds of sexy and rogue. Two male wolves and their women approached me almost immediately. One of them had a smoke between his fingers. He blew it directly into my face.

The women laughed.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"I’m lost. I need help. I haven’t had food or water, and I need somewhere to rest. Please."

The second one looked me over and said, "This isn’t the right place for that. You must have been pointed in the wrong direction."

"I stumbled here," I said. "Please. Just help me."

"Do you know who you’re standing in front of?" the first one said, stepping closer. "We’re the Mafia wolves. That’s what they call us around here. So shut the fck up and get out before I show you exactly what that means."

I turned to leave.

Then a female wolf stepped outside just as I was heading for the door. Young ... looked like she was in her late twenties. She took one look at the situation and didn’t hesitate.

"You lot aren’t hospitable at all. He told you what he’s going through and you still can’t find one drop of empathy."

"Empathy?" the first wolf repeated, like the word offended him. "Get this wolf out of here."

His face had gone cold and hard, and he moved like he was about to give me another beating. The female wolf stepped in front of me and didn’t budge.

"Fine," one of the Mafia wolves said, backing off. "Do whatever you’re going to do. But make it quick and get him out."

She led me inside without a word.

She cleaned my wounds quietly. She pressed a warm, damp cloth to my head without making a single sound. Then she pulled food from the microwave and set it in front of me alongside a bottle of water.

"Thank you," I said.

She said nothing.

"I don’t know why you’re doing this for me, but I’m grateful. Really."

Still nothing.

"Do you want to eat or not?" she finally said, flat and unbothered.

"Yes ... yes, sorry." I started eating faster than I probably should have.

"When you’re done, I’ll get water ready for a bath and find you something clean to wear. You look like absolute shit," she said, and stepped back out.

Valdris was my stop.

Maybe not my final one. But life, it seemed, had its own plans for me ... and right now, they all pointed here.