Symbolically, I threw it away the night he rejected me, but I couldn't get rid of it. I'd been clinging to it all those years away from Girdwood, like a prized possession of where my heart once lay. This morning, I retrieved it from the bottom of my satchel, having shoved it in there when he bought my freedom and instructed me to pack.
I’d tied it on my wrist without thinking after what happened in that hut in the woods last night. Signifying hope, perhaps; for a stolen moment, I believed that a world in which I forgave Thane for the past existed, and we could move forward.
But the bracelet became a shackle when I fell asleep and reentered that nightmare that only proved that there is no future for us.
I'm bound to my resentment, my mistrust.
And most of all, I don't trust myself around him.
Now, here I am, running from him again, the weight of that tiny piece of memory, of hope, biting against my wrist.
A low growl rumbles through the trees behind me, and my heart alights with desperation to get away, my chest tightening. I would recognize that sound anywhere.
“Thane…” I whisper even as I keep running, knowing full well that I can't outrun him. I should have known that he'd chase me, should have known that there's no escaping him, no matter what I do.
My wolfless body can’t outrun him. He's faster, stronger, and when I hear the heavy thud of paws hitting snow, I know it’s only a matter of seconds before he finds me.
“Leave me alone!” I scream into the wind, but the forest swallows my trembling voice.
A flash of black moves between the trees, a blur of furry muscle and fury. His wolf form bursts into view, dark fur rippling under the moonlight, eyes glowing with that impossible emerald. He doesn’t attack, doesn’t pounce. He stands firm, careful, like a predator that knows it caught its prey and is sure of it.
“Don’t,” I whisper as I slow down, stumbling backward. My heel catches a root, and I nearly fall back, but Thane shifts before my eyes, fur retracting, bones snapping into place until he stands in human form, swiftly catching me with one arm. His body radiates heat in the freezing air surrounding the forest, steam rising from his skin, eyes green embers of relief.
“Willow…” he rasps, voice rough and heavy. “You have to stop running.”
I shake my head violently, pushing at his firm chest with tentative palms. “Stay back. I don't wanna hurt you.”
Thane shakes his head firmly as he grips my shoulders and keeps me steady on my feet, his eyes penetrating mine. “You're not gonna hurt me, and I’m not here to hurt you, either.”
The sincerity in his voice is a stark contrast to the hurtful words of the past, and something inside me snaps.
“You already did!” The words rip from me before I can stop them. “You broke me once, Thane. Do you even remember what you said when I told you how I felt?! You told me I was mistaken!” My voice cracks, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “I left Snehvolk because of you, and now you've dragged me back here only to cause destruction!”
Thane flinches as if I struck him, but I can’t stop. It all comes tumbling out—my anger, grief, my fear.
“And now you look at me like you care, like you want to protect me. I can’t do this again. I can’t trust you. I can’t even trust myself!”
The silence between us is deafening, only the soft whisper of snow falling around us, landing in his dark hair, and melting against my lashes. He moves in instead of reeling from my words, slow and deliberate.
“You think I don’t know what I did to you?” he says quietly, voice shaking with restraint. “I remember every damn word I said. I live with it every day. I live with that regret.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, shrugging put of his touch with enough force to finally set me free, pressing a trembling hand to my chest. “Don’t try to make it right. Don't try to fix it. You can’t.” One hand flies up to point in the direction of the curling smoke in Girdwood, where I set his house on fire. “The damage is already done!”
Thane sighs heavily, dropping his gaze in surrender as his shoulders droop. “Then tell me what you need from me, Willow. You’re running from something you don’t understand—”
“I understand enough!” I shout, my voice cracking with dread. “I saw it! You die because of me! I burn everything I love to ash!”
The confession slips out without thinking, and I gasp in shock. Thane stills, lifting eyes that are darkening, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
Gulping hard, I spin on my heel to give him my back. I can't look him in the eye now, not when I admitted something I've hardly admitted to myself.
“I can't trust you, because I know where this leads,” I whisper, my chest heaving as I reel from the shock. “We both know where this leads, and I can't have that.”
A long moment of silence stretches around us like a rubber band, and I'm afraid of what comes when he catapults back.
“You saw that in your dream?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
A wave of relief sets in because his question isn't directed at the other part of my admission. But still, I can't answer. The lump in my throat is too thick, my breathing shallow.
