I exhaled slowly and ran a hand through my hair, dragging it back.
She’d probably stayed in the pack hall again. Or maybe she was still out smoothing over whatever diplomatic mess needed mopped up after the loss tonight. I’d seen Cale talk to her a few times since he got here. Always so level. Always so reasonable.
My wolf didn’t like him. Neither did I. But it wasn’t because he was dangerous. It was because he was everything I wasn’t when I lost my temper.
I moved to the fireplace, struck a match, and lit the kindling. The flame caught slowly, stubborn. Like the rest of this place.
I didn’t sit. I stood in the flickering light and watched the shadows crawl up the walls. My mind wandered—to the way her eyes had looked the last time I’d raised my voice. Not angry. Not scared.
Disappointed.
That was worse.
I felt the bond stir again—like it was checking to see if I was still here. Still hers.
I was.
Even if neither of us was willing to admit it.
Chapter 2
Rowen
I watchedthem limp in just as the moon dipped past its peak.
Four of them, one missing. I saw their cuts and bruises, and the way they didn’t meet my gaze.
I met them at the edge of the clearing, boots soundless on soft grass, my shirt unbuttoned at the neck, my fingers raw from another round of damage control. The integration between Wolfe’s two packs wasn’t as smooth as Wolfe pretended it was. Or maybe he was oblivious to the tension. Goddess knows he seemed immune to it when he lay beside me at night.
Gordon had a shallow cut across his shoulder. One of the younger males was not bleeding but quiet and pale.
“Three rogues,” Gordon reported before I could ask. “None of theirs down. One of ours.” He looked down at his feet. “They knew the border line.”
I nodded once and stepped forward to examine his wound. “This looks deep.”
“Just a scratch.”
It wasn’t. But Gordon wouldn’t let anyone say otherwise. I didn’t push it. Pride was a brittle shield—mine, his, everyone’s.
“Still, you should shift to heal it,” I said. He grunted. Which, for Gordon, meant ”fine.” I looked past him to the others. “Simon?”
“He didn’t feel it,” he said gruffly, and I bit back my tears.
“Tell me everything.” I listened as they told me what happened during their patrol, how we lost a pack member. How the change in patrol hadn’t happened, and I knew they were looking for my response when Gordon told me that Cale had said I changed the route. I didn’t defend my command; instead, I listened and shouldered the burden of blame they looked at me with. “I’ll speak to Sherry.”
I clasped each of their shoulders, told them to shift to heal, and get food and rest. I felt my shoulders sag as I watched them walk away.
As they dispersed, I moved to the edge of the clearing and took a slow breath. The trees were quiet again. The kind of quiet that always came after blood had been spilled. And underneath it—deep and constant—the bond hummed.
Distant. Heavy.
I didn’t reach for it.
Wolfe was out there somewhere, probably already checking the perimeter, probably angry, probably pacing. The pull between us was weaker than usual, stretched taut like a bowstring held too long. Maybe that meant he wasn’t reaching for it either.
Or maybe it meant he was waiting for me to break first. I was tired of being the one to bend.
A rustle behind me pulled me from the thought.
