“Dane offered me a place here when he was leaving Shadow Peak. Not because we’d known each other for years—we hadn’t. But because Ash Hollow is different. It’s built for people who don’t quite fit the traditional molds. For outcasts and second chances.”
“Shadow Peak was never home, not really. Too many rules, too many expectations about what a Guardian should be, how protection should look. My father still thinks I made the wrong choice leaving.” I meet her eyes. “But here ... I get to choose what kind of protector I want to be. Even if I’m still figuring that out.”
I take a deep breath. I can’t quite believe I’ve opened up so much.
“Protection is in my blood,” I say. “Guardian heritage. But I had to learn that real protection isn’t about control.”
“Still learning that lesson?” she asks with a knowing smile that somehow doesn’t feel judgmental.
I chuckle softly. “Every damn day.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, the background noise of the celebration creating a private bubble around us. I’m acutely aware of how her knee occasionally brushes against mine, how she leans slightly toward me when she speaks.
“What made you choose healing?” I ask eventually.
Her eyes grow distant. “I was thirteen when I first healed someone I shouldn’t have been able to heal—a wolf hybrid servant in my father’s house. Cross-species healing isn’tcommon among fae. That’s when I knew my path would be different.”
“What happened after?” I prompt, wanting to understand more.
“My father tried to contain it—make me practice only on ‘appropriate patients’.” Her jaw tightens at the memory. “He had very specific ideas about who deserved my gift and who didn’t. Bloodlines mattered more than need. Status more than suffering.”
“But you didn’t agree.”
“I couldn’t.” She sets down her glass, her hands coming to rest in her lap. “The more he tried to restrict me, the more I understood that healing isn’t about politics or propriety. It’s about recognizing that pain doesn’t care about species or status.”
I find myself hanging on her every word, noticing the elegant curve of her neck, the way her fingers absently trace patterns on her glass when she speaks of things that matter to her.
“Is that why you left? To get away from those restrictions?”
“Partly. But I also wanted to learn from healers who understood that life force is universal, not bound by the arbitrary lines we draw between species.” Her forest green eyes meet mine. “This pack doesn’t fit traditional molds. Neither do I.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes on her plate. When she looks up, there’s something thoughtful in her expression. “You kept everyone safe while I focused on healing. I couldn’t have done it without knowing you had everything else handled.”
“Works both ways,” I say. “You saved them. I just made sure nothing got in your way.”
Her smile is soft. “Still. Thank you.”
I watch her smile as she finishes the last of her food, and something settles in my chest—a certainty I haven’t felt in a long time.
This matters. She matters.
Not just because she saved the pack, though that’s part of it. Not just because she’s beautiful, though she is. It’s the way she challenges traditional boundaries while still honoring what’s worth preserving. The way she chose healing over politics. The way she sees protection as something other than control.
The celebration continues around us—laughter, conversation, the clink of glasses. But this alcove feels separate. Private.
“I’m glad you came to Ash Hollow,” I say, meaning it in ways that have nothing to do with her healing abilities.
“So am I.” Her eyes hold mine, and there’s something in her expression that tells me she understands exactly what I’m not saying.
I should say something. The words are right there, pressing against my teeth.
Ask her to dinner. No—too formal. Coffee? Too casual. Just tell her you want more time with her.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Tactical planning, threat assessment, pack security—those I can do in my sleep. But standing here watching firelight catch the gold in her hair, I can’t string together a single coherent sentence.
Mateo’s voice cuts across the room. “Dessert’s ready! If you don’t come now, Kari’s going to eat all the good stuff!”
Lyanna laughs softly, the spell broken. She squeezes my arm once before moving toward the others.
