She met my stare, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” I said, voice dark and raw. “I’m angry because you didn’t take me with you.” Her lips parted in surprise. “My place,” I said, pulling her against me, “is at your side. Not unconscious in the dirt while you hunt traitors alone.” Her pulse quickened under my hand. “And if you ever,” I murmured against her mouth, “ever put yourself between me and danger like that again?—”
“You’ll what?” she whispered, fire in her eyes.
I crushed my mouth to hers hard. The kiss wasn’t gentle and it wasn’t sweet. It was punishment, relief, fury, and need all at once. She kissed me back just as fiercely, fingers slipping into my hair and pulling me closer, as if she wanted to erase everything we’d just been through. When we finally pulled apart, both breathing heavily, she rested her forehead against mine.
“I’m here,” she murmured. “And I’m safe.”
My eyes closed for just a moment. Then I pulled her fully into my arms, holding her tight enough that she made a small sound of protest. “You’re mine,” I said softly. “I protect what’s mine.”
“And I protect what’s mine,” she whispered back.
My wolf rumbled approval.
After a long moment, I exhaled. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“I won’t,” she promised. A moment passed, then she smirked. “Unless I have to,” she said dryly.
I glared at her, and she smiled. Despite everything—the blood, the exhaustion, the betrayal—my chest finally loosened.
Because she was here. Alive. Fierce. Mine.
And that was all that mattered.
The Hollow was hummingwith activity.
Not the uneasy, waiting silence it had held for weeks. Not the tense breath-before-the-battle silence. This was different. Settled. Steady. Eager.
We stood at the edge of the clearing—Rowen on one side of me, Diesel and Killian on the other—and Cody was further up with the young ones, organizing supplies. The pack moved through the area around us, gathering debris, clearing broken brush, and reinforcing sections along the boundary that had sustained damage.
They worked together—easily, instinctively—like the pack felt free for the first time in years.
Diesel folded his arms. “They’re thriving.”
“They are,” Killian agreed.
Diesel rolled his neck on his shoulders. “Whatever comes next, they won’t be scared of it or face it with fear.”
“They’re one pack,” I mused. “No more divided loyalties.”
Rowen’s fingers brushed mine. “How are you?” she asked softly.
“Still angry,” I said honestly. “Still tired.”
She nodded. “And?”
I paused as I thought about it. “Hopeful.”
Her smile was small, proud, knowing. “Good. They need that from you.”
“They need you,” I corrected. “You’re the one they look to.”
Rowen’s gaze drifted over the clearing, watching our pack as they worked together, and at the Heartwood that lay deeper in the Hollow, rising like an ancient sentinel.
“They’ll have both of us,” she said. “Not one or the other.”
There was power in that. Not magic. Not dominion. Something simpler. Stronger.
