The storm broke just before dawn. Thunder rolled across the sky in low, distant waves, and rain followed soon after, heavy and relentless. It soaked the grounds, turned paths to mud, and wrapped the pack house in a constant, echoing rhythm that made sleep impossible.
She welcomed it.
She sat upright in bed, listening to the rain strike the windows, one hand resting against her abdomen as she breathed through the unease coiling inside her. The secret felt heavier today. Louder. As if the storm outside had stirred something within her, urging it forward, demanding acknowledgment.
You cannot keep this hidden forever.
The thought settled deep, unwelcome but true.
She rose and crossed the room, pulling the curtains back just enough to see the courtyard below. Guards moved in pairs, cloaks darkened by rain, eyes sharp. The attack had changed everything. Vigilance now edged every movement. Trust had thinned.
And at the center of it all was him.
She could sense him even without seeing him. The bond pulsed faintly, a constant awareness that tugged at her chest. It was quieter than it had been last night, but more focused, like a held breath.
A knock came at her door. Not loud. Not commanding. Careful.
She stiffened. Then exhaled slowly and opened it.
It was not him.
A young woman stood in the hallway, her posture respectful but tense. One of the healers.
"The Alpha asked that you come to the council chamber," she said. "There has been an incident."
The word sent a chill through her. "What kind of incident?"
The healer hesitated. "We are not certain yet."
That answer was worse than any certainty.
She followed the woman through the corridors, the sound of rain fading behind thick stone walls. The council chamber buzzed with low voices when they arrived. Elders stood clustered together, their expressions grim. Guards flanked the entrances.
He stood near the center, shoulders rigid, gaze sharp. When he saw her, something eased in his posture, just slightly. The reaction did not go unnoticed.
"Tell me," she said before anyone else could speak.
One of the elders cleared his throat. "A message was left at the eastern boundary."
Her chest tightened. "From who?"
"We do not know," the elder replied. "But it was meant for you."
Silence fell.
Her pulse hammered in her ears. "Show me."
They led her outside despite the rain, toward the far edge of the grounds. Mud clung to her boots, the air sharp with the scent of wet earth. Guards stood rigid near a tall stone marker. Something dark stained its base.
Blood.
Her stomach twisted.
Pinned to the stone was a scrap of cloth. She recognized it instantly. It was hers. Torn from an old coat she had worn years ago, during the time she had been hunted, alone, unprotected.
He noticed the way her breath hitched, the way her hand clenched at her side. His body shifted closer without thought.
"They know who you are," he said quietly.
"They always have," she replied. Her voice was steady, even as something cold settled in her chest.
The message itself was carved into the stone beneath the cloth. Rough. Deliberate.
Return what belongs to us.
Her vision blurred briefly. She steadied herself, forcing her breathing into slow, controlled patterns.
"They want leverage," one of the elders said. "They believe you are valuable."
"I am," she said.
Several heads turned toward her.
He watched her closely, concern etched deep into his expression. "You do not have to carry this alone," he said.
She met his gaze. "I have been carrying it alone for a long time."
The council erupted into murmurs. Questions flew. Accusations followed. Who was she to draw this kind of threat? Why now? Why here?
He silenced them with a single raised hand. "Enough."
The authority in his voice cut through the noise instantly. "This threat is against my pack. Against someone under my protection. We will respond accordingly."
Her chest tightened at the words under my protection, but she did not contradict him. Not here. Not now.
They returned inside, the weight of the message pressing down on all of them. Plans were discussed. Patrols reinforced. Alliances considered.
She listened quietly, her mind racing ahead of every possibility. They were closing in faster than she had anticipated. She had hoped for more time.
He caught her arm gently as the meeting dispersed. "Walk with me."
She hesitated, then nodded.
They moved through the quieter halls, rain still echoing faintly beyond the walls. Neither spoke at first. The silence between them was thick, layered with everything they were not saying.
"They know," he said finally. "About the bond. About you."
"They know pieces," she replied. "Not the whole."
He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. "Then tell me the part that matters."
Her heart pounded. This was not how she had planned it. Not like this. Not with the threat looming so close.
"You are not ready for it," she said.
"You do not get to decide that alone," he replied, his voice controlled but strained.
She laughed softly, bitter. "You decided everything alone once. Do you remember?"
Pain flashed across his face. "Every day."
They stood inches apart now. The bond surged, reacting to the intensity, to the proximity, to the raw emotion bleeding through the cracks.
"You do not trust me," he said.
"I do not trust what you represent to me," she replied. "What you can take without trying."
His hand flexed at his side, restraint evident. "I will not take anything you do not give."
Her breath caught at the promise.
"Then you must wait," she said.
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded once. "Very well."
They parted reluctantly. She returned to her room, the weight of the day pressing down hard. She locked the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing deeply.
The truth pressed harder now, no longer content to wait quietly. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, resting both hands against her abdomen.
"You are changing everything," she whispered.
A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her. She lay back, eyes closing despite herself.
When she woke, it was dark again. The storm had eased, leaving the air heavy and charged.
A presence stirred in the room.
She sat up sharply.
He stood near the window, turned partly away, posture tense.
"How did you get in here?" she demanded.
"I needed to see you," he said quietly.
Her pulse raced. "You should not be here."
"Neither should they," he replied. "But they are close."
She swung her legs over the bed, anger flaring. "You cannot just decide this."
"I can," he said. "And I will."
She stepped toward him, fire in her eyes. "You do not own me."
His gaze locked onto hers, intense, unwavering. "No," he said. "But I would die for you."
The words hit her like a blow.
The bond flared violently, heat flooding her senses, desire and fear tangling together until she could not tell where one ended and the other began.
She stopped just short of him, breath unsteady. "Do not say things like that."
"It is the truth," he replied.
Her resolve cracked. Just slightly.
She turned away, pressing her palms against the window, grounding herself. "They are not after me," she said quietly. "Not just me."
He went still. "What does that mean?"
Her throat tightened. She closed her eyes.
"It means," she said slowly, "that the next time they come, they will not come to warn."
He stepped closer, his presence a solid force behind her. "Then tell me what we are protecting."
She rested her forehead against the glass, heart hammering.
"Soon," she whispered.
Behind her, his breath caught. The bond surged, tight and insistent, as if it knew what was coming even if he did not.
Outside, the forest stirred. The enemy had made their intentions clear.
And inside her, the truth waited, poised on the edge of revelation.