The silence during our hike down the mountain was louder than any words we could have spoken. Every step I took felt like a decision I hadn't made yet.
Kael walked beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. The way his broad shoulders moved with quiet control. The way his wolf energy pulsed just beneath the surface. It unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
Because it felt right.
And nothing in my life had felt right in a very long time.
"I never expected to see you again," I said finally, breaking the silence.
Kael didn't look at me. "I never stopped watching over you."
That made me stop in my tracks. "What?"
His gaze slid toward mine, unreadable. "After you left my brother... after everything went to hell, I made sure you were safe. From a distance."
"I don't need a babysitter," I snapped, heart hammering.
"No," he agreed. "You need a pack. You need people who won't use you or betray you."
The unspoken words hung thick in the air.
Like my ex—his brother—did.
I kept walking, not ready to deal with that weight yet.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I asked. "All those years, and you never showed up."
"Because I knew you hated me," Kael said flatly. "You left without a word after what happened that night in the forest. After..."
"Don't," I said sharply.
We didn't talk about that night.
The one when everything changed. When my bond to one brother started to shatter and another began to form without warning.
Fate was cruel like that.
But fate didn't account for choice. For guilt. For pain.
"We were never supposed to be mates," I said, voice low. "I was promised to Lucien. And then—"
"And then your wolf called to mine," Kael interrupted. "That's not something we choose. You know that."
"Maybe not," I admitted. "But I still made my choice. And I left."
Kael was quiet for a long time.
When he finally spoke, it was quieter. "You left because you were scared. And because you didn't trust me."
"I still don't know if I can," I confessed.
Another silence.
This time, heavier.
"Then I'll earn it," he said simply.
And he meant it.
We arrived at the hidden safehouse nestled between two jagged cliffs. It was barely visible from the outside—a camouflaged log structure reinforced with wards carved into the stones around it. Kael pressed his palm to a rune on the door, and the barrier shimmered before vanishing.
Inside was clean but rustic. A fireplace. A table. Two beds.
"You take the one by the window," he said, walking past me. "It's easier to smell trouble from there."
I raised a brow. "You assigning beds now?"
"No," Kael replied over his shoulder. "I'm protecting what's mine."
My heart stumbled.
"You don't own me," I said, sharper than I intended.
Kael turned fully to face me, eyes darkening. Not in anger—but something primal. Something ancient and deeply wolf.
"No," he said again. "But the bond exists, Elara. Whether we accept it or not. I can feel your emotions as clearly as my own. When you're scared. When you're angry. When you want to run."
I looked away.
Because it was true.
I could feel him too. His steady energy. His protective instinct. His desire—for connection, for touch, for something more than just survival.
The worst part?
It didn't feel like an invasion.
It felt like home.
I crossed to the window and looked out into the fading light. Fog was starting to rise again, coating the ground like a secret. Somewhere out there, a madman was hunting women like me. Somewhere out there, the ghosts of my past were still watching.
And right here... Kael.
Waiting. Watching. Guarding.
I turned back to him.
"You said you'll protect me no matter what?"
"Yes."
"Even if I decide to leave?"
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. "Even then."
I stepped forward, heart pounding.
"Then stay," I whispered. "Just... stay. For tonight."
Something in his face softened—just a crack in the hardened Alpha exterior.
"I was never planning to leave," he murmured.
The bond between us pulsed again—stronger, deeper. But still unclaimed.
And for the first time, I didn't fight it.
Not yet. Not fully.
But I didn't push him away either.