My fists tightened in his shirt. “I hate them.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But don’t hate your father. I really believe he tried and he never knew we,you, would be the ones to pay the price for it.”
I swallowed hard. “Then we need to do what he couldn’t.” I looked up at him. “We need to be stronger andshow them that we don’t tremble in fear at the thought of their corruption.”
Wolfe pressed his forehead to mine, his wolf growled in approval through our bond. “That’s what we’re doing, princess,” he said, lips brushing mine. “Together.”
Reaching up, I kissed him, and the Hollow didn’t pulse beneath my feet. It felt as if it settled, as if it approved.
“Oh shit, I forgot about the druid,” I told him, stepping back.
“I didn’t,” Wolfe chuckled. “It’s fine, they’ve been demanding my attention for the last five minutes.” He turned his head to look around, and something moved in his expression—a shadow of understanding, a flicker of recognition. “Come on, let’s go see what they want now.”
As we walked, I wondered how I had never noticed until now that he never argued when the Heartwood called. As we approached the Heartwood, the air shifted. The ground felt warmer, the wind quieter, and the weight heavier.
The druid knelt at the roots of the ancient tree, palms pressed flat against the ground, eyes closed. Smoke curled from carved bowls placed around the trunk—herbs burning low, glowing blue and violet in the early dawn light.
“Finally,” the druid murmured, without looking up. “You’re here.”
Wolfe moved forward, shoulders squared. “What do you need?”
The druid opened their eyes—and for the first time, I saw worry break through their calm. “Protection,” they said simply. “For the Hollow. For you.” Their gaze flicked to me. “And for the life you carry.”
I stiffened. “Does the Hollow?—”
“The Hollow knows everything born within its reach,” the druid said softly. “It remembers every child of the bloodline. It remembers you, Rowen. It knows your mate now. And it knows what grows inside you.”
Wolfe’s hand slid into mine, grounding me. I hadn’t expected to feel vulnerable in front of our druid—but there it was, sharp and unavoidable.
“What’s happening?” Wolfe asked.
The druid touched the Heartwood’s bark, fingers tracing grooves older than our entire bloodline. “The Pack Council wants to conquer and destroy. They believe the land will submit to new rule if they fracture the old. So we protect the old.”
Wolfe frowned. “Meaning?”
“Meaning,” the druid said, rising to their feet, “we bind the Hollow to its chosen guardians. You. And you.”
My heart thudded painfully. “Bind…how?” I exchanged a look with Wolfe. “Isn’t it already bound to us?”
“The how, we do through ritual.” The druid’s eyes softened. “Through acknowledgment. Through promise.” They glanced at our joined hands. “You’re tied to it, yes, but bound? Not yet.”
Wolfe took a step closer. “Tell me what I need to do.”
The druid studied him for a long moment—like they were memorizing something only they could see. Something the rest of us weren’t meant to understand yet.
“You kneel,” they said softly. Wolfe tensed beside me. He wasn’t a man who knelt. Alphas weren’t supposed to. The druid saw the stubborn spike in his spine and added, “Just for this.”
Wolfe turned to me—really looked—and whateverresistance was in him loosened. Wordlessly, he lowered himself onto one knee at the base of the Heartwood. It didn’t feel like submission. It felt like an equal acknowledging another equal.
The druid nodded once. “Good.” Their voice changed—deepened—taking on a resonance that seemed to belong to no one person. As if something ancient had slipped into their lungs. “Wolfe, alpha of two lands,” they intoned, “defender of Stonefang, chosen of the Hollow, protector of its daughter—the land calls you to stand with it.”
The ground shivered beneath us—subtle, but unmistakable.
Then the druid’s gaze turned to me. “Rowen, born of the Hollow, legacy of the land, heart and anchor of the Hollow—the land calls you to rise with it.”
My breath caught in my chest. The words struck like a physical touch—warm, heavy, familiar in a way that made my bones hum. I stepped closer to Wolfe, knees hitting the earth beside him. Our hands brushed—skin on skin, light but electric. Not quite clasping, just close enough to feel. “What does it want from us?” I whispered.
The druid’s answer was quiet, deadly, and certain. “To stand. Together. No matter what comes.”
