Page 56

“I did.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Because Echo does what he wants. He wanted back into your life, so he came back.”

“And you didn’t?”

His gaze returns to mine. “I wanted to every damn day. But you asked me not to.”

The words land harder than they should.

“Wanting you didn’t give me the right to ignore what you chose,” he says. I look back at the trees because I’m not ready for him to see what that does to me.

“So yes,” he adds dryly. “Occasionally, I envy the raccoon.”

“He also eats garbage,” I point out.

“It has its tradeoffs.”

I laugh at that.

“Tell me something true,” he says, the moment giving way to something suddenly more intense.

The fire is lower now, the light warmer. He’s moved away from me a bit while he cooks—another rabbit he caught for us earlier—but the distance feels notional at this point. Symbolic.

“You say that like all I’ve told you are lies,” I joke.

“No, not lies. But truth is personal. And I want the real you. Behind the curtain, remember?”

“That’s a dangerous ask.”

“I know.”

I look at the fire for a moment. Don’t, I tell myself. You don’t have to give him this. It’s too much. You’ll go too far to come back from.

But the woods are dark, and the fire is warm, and I've been sitting all day with nothing but my own thoughts, and I’m tired—genuinely tired—of holding everything at arm’s length. Especially him.

You’re allowed to let someone in, Lexi had said.

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

“What was it like growing up as a general’s daughter?”

It’s not what I expect him to ask. But he’s right. The truth is personal. So, I tell him.

“I spent most of my life being the only woman in the room,” I say. “In the pack hierarchy. Strategy meetings, tactical briefings, enforcement decisions—I was always the only one, and that was if they invited me at all.” I pause. “At first, they invited me only because of my dad, who he was to the alpha. I was good enough that they couldn’t ignore me. But I always knew there was a ceiling. That, no matter what I did, the general’s position would go to someone who looked like them.”

“Did it?”

“It was going to.” I look at the fire. “And then Grey came back, and Lexi happened, and everything changed.” A pause. “But I spent a lot of years building skills that were always going to be worth less than someone else’s because of what I am. That does something to you. The way you hold yourself. The way you trust.”

Nash is quiet. Not uncomfortable quiet; the kind of quiet that means he’s actually listening.

“My mother was the same,” I say, quieter now. “Brilliant. Capable. Completely at the mercy of a system that didn’t see her.” I pause. “She got sick, and the pack’s medical protocols were built for wolves who presented like men, and by the time anyone took her seriously—” I stop, suddenly not trusting my voice.

It’s mostly rage, but tears can be angry just as easily as they can be sad.

“Mia,” he says.