Kieran
Cassidy didn't speak to me for the rest of the night.
She didn't slam the door.
Didn't lash out.
Didn't fight.
She just turned away.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because I had seen it.
The way her pulse had spiked when I told her the pack expected proof.
The way her fingers had trembled when she realized I wasn't going to force it.
The way her golden eyes had searched mine—confused, hesitant, afraid.
Not of me.
Not anymore.
But of herself.
Because she had felt it, too.
The shift. The pull. The way the line between fear and something else was beginning to blur.
And she hated it.
I wasn't sure if I hated it, too.
Or if I just hated that she wouldn't look at me.
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair as I left her room, the heavy weight of my pack's expectations pressing down on me with every step.
I had bought myself time.
But not much.
Because Elder Reinhardt had been right about one thing—
Loyalty could only be stretched so far.
And if I wasn't careful, it would break.
---
I spent the night in my office, staring at the maps spread across my desk, pretending I could focus on anything other than her.
But the truth was—
Even when I wasn't near her, I felt her.
The bond wasn't complete. It wasn't solidified.
But it was there.
Unspoken. Unfinished. Waiting.
And the longer it waited, the harder it became to ignore.
A sharp knock at the door made me exhale.
"Enter."
Damon stepped inside, his golden eyes flicking over me before he let out a low whistle. "You look like hell."
"Get to the point."
He smirked. "Oh, I just wanted to check in. You know, since your pack is losing their minds over this whole 'human mate' thing."
I clenched my jaw. "They'll fall in line."
"Sure. But for how long?" He tilted his head. "You're playing a dangerous game, Kieran. You and I both know they won't accept this unless you give them something real."
I exhaled slowly. "They have my word."
"And you think that's enough?"
I didn't answer.
Because I knew it wasn't.
Damon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I get it. You don't want to force this on her. But the longer you wait, the more wolves will start to doubt you. And doubt? That leads to challenges."
I growled lowly. "Let them challenge me."
Damon arched a brow. "That's exactly what they want."
The tension in my chest tightened.
Because he was right.
The pack could only be held back for so long.
And eventually, if I didn't prove my claim—
Someone would challenge it.
Not just with words.
But with blood.
And that was something Cassidy wouldn't survive.
I pushed away from my desk, pacing toward the window.
Outside, the moon hung heavy over the snow-dusted courtyard, the estate lights glowing in the dark.
"She's not ready," I murmured.
Damon was quiet for a long moment.
Then, softer—"And what about you?"
I stiffened. "What?"
Damon smirked. "You keep talking about her not being ready. But I don't think you are either."
I turned sharply, my wolf bristling. "Careful, Damon."
"Relax." He held up his hands, unbothered. "I'm just saying—if you really wanted to mark her, you would've done it already. This is not about having sex or asking her to love you, it's about the mark. I know you still think about the past but that was a mistake, you were young and naive, you both were. You can't keep clinging to the past, we both know she's your mate, you can feel it, so can I and I'm sure everyone in the pack can feel it they're just worried about you not claiming this bond, because of what happened in the past."
I clenched my jaw, shoving my hands into my pockets.
I wasn't having this conversation.
Not now.
Not with him.
Damon exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Look, I'm just here to remind you that the council is watching, the pack is waiting, and you—" He pointed at me. "—need to figure out what the hell you're doing. Because sooner or later? This bond is going to demand something from you. And when that happens?"
His smirk faded.
"You won't be able to ignore it anymore."
I said nothing.
Because I knew that, too.
And that was the part that terrified me the most.
_______________________________
I didn't expect the knock at my door.
Not this early.
Not from him.
I hesitated before answering, my fingers tightening around the fabrics of my dress as I opened the door.
Kieran stood there, dressed in his usual dark plain trousers and white shirt, his expression unreadable.
"Come have breakfast with me," he said.
It wasn't a demand.
It wasn't even a request.
It was… something else.
Something I didn't know how to define.
I swallowed, my throat tight. "Why?"
His dark eyes flickered. "Because I asked."
Silence stretched between us, thick and uncertain.
He wasn't forcing me.
But he wasn't leaving, either.
And maybe that was why, after a long moment—
I stepped forward.
Because the longer I stayed in this room, the smaller it felt.
And maybe… maybe I needed to breathe.
Even if it was in his space.
---
Kieran's room was bigger than mine.
Not in an extravagant way—just in a way that made it clear this space had belonged to him for a long time.
The fire was already lit, casting a soft glow over the dark curtains and dark walls. I noticed there was a lot of chimneys in his estate, maybe it was because of the weather, their wolves loved the cold but that couldn't be said for their human side. A small table near the window had been set for two, the scent of fresh bread and something warm filling the air.
It felt… too normal.
I didn't trust it.
I hesitated by the doorway, but Kieran had already moved to pull out a chair.
Waiting.
Watching.
Like he wasn't sure what I would do.
Neither was I.
But I didn't run.
I sat.
The food was better than anything I had ever eaten before.
But I barely tasted it.
Because Kieran was there, seated across from me, watching me like he was still trying to figure me out.
I didn't look at him.
Not until he spoke.
"You haven't rejected me."
My fork clattered against my plate.
I stiffened. "What?"
"You haven't rejected me," he repeated, voice steady. "Why?"
My chest tightened.
Because I didn't know.
I should have.
I should have screamed the words the moment he claimed me, should have spat in his face, should have done something.
But I hadn't.
And that scared me more than anything.
As much as I didn't like being claimed I didn't have it in me to kill someone. It is said that the rejection of a mate caused so much pain and illness that some wolves die from it. I knew Kieran would never die from such a thing but I didn't want to take any chances.
I forced my hands to stay steady. "I didn't think I had a choice."
His brow furrowed slightly. "You always had a choice."
A bitter laugh scraped my throat. "Right. A choice between being torn apart by your pack for rejecting you and being left in Garrick's cruelty? That doesn't seem like much of a choice to me."
"That's not why you didn't say it."
His voice was calm.
Certain.
Like he already knew the answer.
Like he was waiting for me to admit it.
I clenched my jaw, shoving a piece of bread into my mouth just to avoid responding.
Because I didn't have an answer.
Not one I was ready to admit.
Not to him.
Not to myself.
But the truth was—
I hadn't rejected him.
And deep down, I knew why.
Because some part of me—
Some terrible, twisted part of me—
Knew he was telling the truth.
And that truth terrified me more than anything.
Because if I accepted it—
If I accepted him—
Then I wasn't just his.
I was lost.
___________________________
Her hands trembled slightly as she picked at the bread on her plate, her golden eyes locked on the table like it held all the answers she refused to say aloud.
I had struck a nerve.
Good.
Because this conversation needed to happen.
She could deny it all she wanted, but she hadn't rejected me.
And it wasn't because she was afraid of my pack.
It was because, deep down, some part of her felt it too.
I leaned back in my chair, watching her closely. "You've had plenty of chances to say it, Cassie."
Her grip on the bread tightened, knuckles going white. "Maybe I just don't see the point."
I tilted my head. "No?"
"No." She finally looked up, her gaze sharp and defiant. "You wouldn't let me leave anyway. Whether I say the words or not, I'm still here."
"That's true."
Her jaw tightened, clearly expecting me to argue.
But I wouldn't.
Because she was here.
And I wasn't going to pretend I would ever let her go.
"But that's not the reason," I said, my voice quieter now. "Is it?"
A flicker of something passed over her face.
Panic.
Frustration.
Maybe even a little fear.
Not of me.
But of herself.
Of what she was starting to realize.
She shoved her plate away and pushed back her chair, standing abruptly. "I don't want to talk about this."
I didn't stop her.
Didn't grab her.
Didn't block her path.
I just watched.
"Cassidy."
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—"I'm going back to my room."
"Fine."
Her brows furrowed slightly, like she had expected me to fight harder.
I didn't.
Because I didn't need to.
She could run from this conversation all she wanted.
But she couldn't run from the truth.
And sooner or later, she would have to face it.