**TITLE: He Knows the Door to My Soul and Who Forgot to Novel 112**
**CONTENT: Chapter 112**
28 Bonu
“Just one spoonful, mixed with water as needed,” she instructed, her eyes locking onto mine with a seriousness that made my heart race. She placed the small vial in my hand, the glass cool against my skin, yet somehow, it felt warm as if it held a secret within. “Use it no more than once a week, and never for more than a month straight.”
“I understand,” I replied, my voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in my stomach. I examined the vial closely; the liquid within danced and shimmered, flecks of gold swirling like tiny stars trapped in a bottle. “What do I owe you for this?”
With a dismissive wave of her hand, the healer brushed off my question.
“There’s no need for payment. Just promise me you won’t do anything foolish. You really don’t want to lose your wolf, believe me.” Her eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow as she tapped her chest, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. It was clear she had faced her own demons, having lost her wolf long ago, and it was a loss that had never truly healed.
After expressing my gratitude, I stepped out of the cottage, tucking the vial securely into my pocket. Onyx, my ever-vocal companion, howled in displeasure, her discontent echoing through the trees. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that stretched across the path; I realized with a start that I had been gone longer than I had intended.
“You won’t use that potion,” Onyx declared as we made our way through the dense forest. “I won’t allow it.”
“It’s merely a precaution,” I reassured her, trying to keep my tone light. “For those moments when everything feels… overwhelming.”
“Like when Andrei takes his shirt off and you turn into a puddle?” she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I grimaced at her vivid description, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. “Yes, exactly like that,” I admitted, letting out a resigned sigh. “But let’s focus on getting home before Damon starts to worry. We can discuss this later.”
As I ventured deeper into Ashmoor territory, an unsettling sensation crawled up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Something was amiss. The forest, usually alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds, had fallen into an eerie silence.
I halted in my tracks, every instinct screaming at me to be alert. Then, the scent hit me—musky, unwashed, and aggressive, a familiar warning that sent a chill through my veins: rogue wolves were near.
I spun around, adrenaline surging through me, but it was too late. They emerged from the shadows, three figures materializing in the dim light—two males and a female. The woman and the smaller male were in human form, while a massive wolf loomed protectively between them, its eyes glinting with predatory intent. They formed a loose semicircle around me, trapping me before I could even think of escape.
“Well, well,” the female said, a sneer curling her lips as she stepped forward. “Look what we have here. A little Luna, wandering alone in the big, bad woods.”

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