Sticking to the shadows as I make my way through the party, I find him at the back of the den, away from the crowd, leaning against the cracked bricks with one foot braced, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. The glow of the flame of the lighter flares against the darkness, briefly lighting up the sharp lines of his jaw and the tired set of his mouth as he lights the tip. He notices me instantly, a flicker of warm recognition in his earthy green eyes, exuding charm by simply breathing.
Then he smirks, and my heart does a strange flip, the sensation skittering down to the pit of my belly and erupting like fluttering wings of a butterfly. He’s just existing, taking a pull from the nicotine and wolfsbane-laced stick and carding his long, dexterous fingers through the longer length of his raven-black hair.
“Last one,” he says, lifting the cigarette slightly, smoke curling between us. “Can’t exactly be the alpha’s golden boy and stink like this at camp.”
“You’re a chain-smoker, Thane. You’ll never quit,” I remark with a giggle, which cuts off abruptly when I remember the box in my hand.
My throat tightens, my hands clammy around the little box clutched like a lifeline. Stepping closer feels like stepping off a cliff, but I take the leap of faith, even when my heart pounds loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it.
“I…I made you something,” I manage timidly, clearing my throat and holding the box out with both hands.
His brows lift in mild curiosity as he pushes off the wall, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his boot. Standing tall, he towers over me like a cloak of handsome protection in the darkness. He takes the box carefully, like he already knows how fragile I am, and flips open the lid. The bracelet gleams faintly under the moonlight, the resin catching the brilliant glow, the yarrow petal suspended like a promise within its glass enclosure.
A low whistle escapes him. “You made this?”
I nod, too afraid to trust my voice.
For one agonizing, fluttering moment, I think I see something in his eyes. Softness. Gratitude. Something warmer.
But then it’s gone just as quickly.
“Willow…” he whispers with a sigh, closing the lid on the box and pressing it back into my hands. “You shouldn’t have.” Those three words come out like a warning, not appreciatively, prompting me to look up fearfully.
I cling to the box, knuckles paling, my rehearsed words bubbling to the surface before I can stop them. “I wanted to. I wanted you to…to have something from me. To remember me after you’ve left for camp.”
He exhales slowly, eyes narrowing just a fraction, as if he knows where this is going.
I take the leap anyway, stepping into the space between us, tilting my face up. “Thane…I-I like you. More than just a friend. And I thought maybe…before you go….” My voice falters, heat crawling across my cheeks. “Maybe you feel the same.”
The silence that follows is brutal. He doesn’t move away when I reach for his hand, but neither does he hold mine. Hejust watches me, frozen, expression unreadable, and that hurts worse than if he’d laughed in my face.
Finally, he shakes his head firmly. “Willow…no.”
That single word slices through me like a lethal dagger, and all I can do is blink in disbelief, too stunned to speak.
“I can’t. You’re…you’re young, and you’re confused. You think this is something, but it’s not. I'm leaving tomorrow, and when I come back, you will have moved on. You should move on.”
“Y-young? I’m not confused,” I whisper, but my voice cracks, betraying me. Despite this, I frown. “I’m only two years younger than you. It doesn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t matter, Willow,” he cuts in abruptly, his voice sharper this time. His tone hardens, a wall slamming down between us. “Don’t make this harder. Whatever you’re hoping for, it isn’t going to happen. You and I can never be mated.”
Shame floods me, hot and suffocating. My hand slips back to my side, the box digging into my palm like punishment.
“I thought—” I murmur, but he stops me.
“You thought wrong,” he replies, a hint of irritation in his tone. “You’re nothing more than a wolfless omega. I am on my way to becoming a sub-alpha of this pack. There can never be anything between us.”
Thane’s harsh words cut through me like a sharp blade, severing my tongue’s ability to speak as my heart shatters like broken glass.
“Go back inside, Willow,” he says, turning away, reclaiming the distance I’d tried to close. He reaches for the box in his sweatpants pocket, pulling out another cigarette. “Enjoy the party. Forget this happened.”
I want to scream. To demand why. To make him see me. But the lump in my throat is too thick, and my eyes burn too hot. I manage one last pathetic attempt to call his name, but he doesn’t turn toward me. All I can do is nod and stumble back toward the noise of the den, clutching the little box to my chest as if it can hold together the pieces of me he just shattered.
***
Five years, and still, the sting of that night haunts me—Thane’s eyes, hard and unyielding, his words slicing me open. I can almost feel the coldness of that night again, the way my desperation had turned reckless. How I’d dared to touch him, to offer myself before he left for alpha camp, hoping—stupidly hoping—that he might see me, want me.
But he hadn’t.
