Adanna sat on the low stone wall that bordered the training yard, knees pulled up, chin resting on them. She'd been watching the younger wolves spar, but her mind was miles away.
The clang of fists and the thud of bodies hitting sand barely registered. All she could hear was the echo of Selene's laugh from yesterday, sharp as glass.
"Why are you always out here brooding?"
Adanna jerked, nearly tumbling off the wall. Leander stood a few feet away, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"I'm not brooding," she said quickly.
He raised a brow. "You've been staring at the dirt for an hour."
"Not true. I was… observing."
"Observing what?"
Adanna shrugged. "That one there keeps dropping his guard. The other kid's gonna knock him out cold in a minute."
As if on cue, a loud thud followed, and the younger wolf groaned, face in the dirt.
Leander's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Alright. I'll give you that."
Adanna let out a breath, half-laugh, half-sigh. "See? Not brooding. Just… distracted."
Leander moved closer, leaning against the wall beside her. "Want to tell me what's eating you?"
She fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve. "Do I have to?"
"No." His voice softened. "But it might help."
Adanna chewed her lip. "It's the whispers, Leander. I hear them everywhere. In the halls. At meals. Even when I'm trying to sleep. I know people talk in packs—it's normal—but this feels different. It feels like poison."
Leander was silent for a beat, then said, "That's exactly what it is. Selene spreads poison with a smile."
"And you just… let her?"
He straightened a little. "You think I haven't tried to stop her? She doesn't break rules, Adanna. She bends them. Twists them. By the time you call her out, she's already made you look like the fool."
Adanna shook her head. "I don't know if I can survive in a place like this. I didn't come here to fight another war. I came here to breathe."
Leander's eyes flickered at that, but before he could reply, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Adanna!"
They both turned. Mariel, one of the older omegas, marched toward them, a basket of herbs tucked under her arm. Her face was pinched tight with disapproval.
"You should be helping in the kitchens," Mariel snapped. "Not sitting around while the rest of us do the work."
Adanna blinked. "No one asked me to—"
"That's not the point. Guests or not, everyone contributes. We're not here to carry your weight."
Heat rushed to Adanna's face. She opened her mouth, but the words tangled.
Leander's voice cut in, low but sharp. "That's enough, Mariel."
Mariel faltered, eyes darting between them. "I was only—"
"I heard what you were only," he said flatly. "You don't speak to her like that again."
The silence that followed was heavy. Mariel pressed her lips tight, dipped her head quickly, and stormed off.
Adanna stared at her hands, cheeks burning. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did," Leander said simply.
"But now she'll hate me more."
Leander leaned in slightly, his voice pitched low. "She already hated you. At least now she knows she can't say it to your face without me answering."
Adanna met his eyes. Something hot and unsettled twisted in her chest, but she couldn't name it. Gratitude. Fear. Want. All tangled.
She looked away first.
Later, in the kitchens, the air was thick with steam and the smell of garlic and herbs. Adanna rolled up her sleeves, trying to focus on chopping vegetables. Her knife slipped once, nearly cutting her finger, and one of the young omegas giggled.
"She doesn't even know how to hold a blade," the girl whispered, not quietly enough.
Another snicker followed.
Adanna's jaw clenched. She wanted to spin and shout, but instead she pressed harder into the cutting board, the rhythm of the knife pounding like a heartbeat.
Across the table, an older woman named Dalia gave her a sympathetic look. "Ignore them," she murmured. "They're just children playing with fire."
Adanna forced a smile. "Feels more like they're throwing it at me."
Dalia chuckled softly. "Give it time. This place eats rumors as quick as bread. Today's whispers are tomorrow's dust."
The words helped, a little. But only a little.
That night, Adanna sat outside under the stars, arms wrapped around herself. The courtyard was quiet, only the faint hum of crickets and the whisper of wind through the trees.
Leander found her again, as he always seemed to.
"You're avoiding the hall," he said, not asking.
Adanna sighed. "It feels like everyone's watching me eat. Like I'm a stray dog who wandered in."
He studied her for a long moment, then asked, "Do you regret coming here?"
She hesitated. Her heart said no. Her head said maybe.
"I don't know," she admitted finally.
Leander's expression softened, something unguarded slipping through. "If you walk away now, you'll never know what this place could be. What we could be."
Her breath caught. "We?"
He didn't flinch. Didn't correct himself. Just let the word hang there between them, heavy and fragile.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then a sound broke it—the soft crunch of footsteps in the grass.
Selene's voice drifted from the shadows. "How sweet. The stray and the exile, whispering under the stars."
Adanna stiffened, blood running cold.
Leander turned slowly, his face hardening. "Go home, Selene."
She stepped closer, the moonlight catching her smile. "Careful, cousin. People are already talking. No need to give them more to whisper about."
Adanna's nails dug into her palms, but she said nothing.
Selene's gaze flicked to her, lingering. "You'll learn, little stray. In this pack, shadows spread faster than fire."
With that, she turned and disappeared into the dark.
Adanna's chest rose and fell too fast. "She's never going to stop, is she?"
Leander shook his head once. "No. But neither will I."
And though the words steadied her for a moment, she couldn't shake the feeling that the ground beneath her feet was already shifting.
The night felt heavier after Selene's interruption. Adanna stayed seated on the stone bench, arms tight across her chest, while Leander paced like a wolf ready to tear into something.
"She does this on purpose," he muttered, fists clenching. "She knows where to strike."
"Yeah, well… she struck," Adanna shot back. Her voice cracked more than she wanted. "She's right. People are already whispering. About us."
Leander froze mid-step. "And what exactly are they whispering?"
Adanna let out a sharp laugh, but it held no humor. "That I'm the stray bitch who couldn't keep her claws off the Alpha's cousin. That I crawled into your bed to get protection."
The words hung sharp in the air.
Leander's jaw tightened. "Is that what you think?"
Adanna flinched. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to," he snapped. "It's in the way you said it. Like you believe it."
Adanna shoved to her feet. "What else am I supposed to believe? Everywhere I go, eyes follow me. Every corner, I hear whispers. Maybe Selene's right—maybe I don't belong here."
Leander closed the distance in two strides, his hand catching her arm before she could storm off. His grip was firm, not cruel, but it stopped her cold.
"You belong here," he growled. "Don't let her poison sink in."
Her chest rose and fell fast, anger mixing with something hotter. "And what if I don't want to fight anymore? What if I'm tired of proving myself to people who don't want me?"
Leander leaned in, their faces inches apart. "Then prove it to me."
Her breath hitched. "What?"
"Prove to me you're not running." His voice was low, dangerous, threaded with something more than anger.
Adanna's heart hammered. She hated how much his nearness unraveled her. How much she wanted him even when she wanted to scream at him.
"This isn't fair," she whispered.
"No," he said, softer now, "but it's real."
The heat between them snapped like a live wire. One second she was glaring at him, the next his mouth was on hers, fierce and claiming.
Adanna's hands pushed at his chest, but instead of shoving him away, they curled into his shirt, pulling him closer.
"Damn you," she breathed against his lips.
"I'll take that," he murmured, before kissing her harder.
His hands slid to her waist, pulling her against him. The argument was still there, burning under the surface, but now it had nowhere to go but into the clash of mouths and the desperate need of bodies pressing too close.
Adanna broke the kiss first, gasping. "This is—this is a mistake."
"Then let's make it twice," Leander said, voice rough, before his lips found the curve of her neck.
She shivered, heat rushing through her. "Leander—"
"Say stop," he growled against her skin.
But she didn't.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her body betraying her words. They stumbled back toward the shadows of the courtyard wall, hands tugging at fabric, movements clumsy, hurried, like two people trying to set fire to the night.
"Tell me you don't want this," he rasped, his forehead pressed against hers, breath uneven.
Adanna's voice shook, but it wasn't from fear. "I should… but I can't."
That was all he needed.
His mouth claimed hers again, deeper, hungrier. Clothes gave way under impatient hands—buttons undone, fabric shoved aside. The night air was cool, but every place his skin touched hers burned.
Adanna gasped as his hands gripped her hips, lifting her onto the wall. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him closer.
"Leander…" It came out half-moan, half-warning.
"Say my name again," he demanded, teeth grazing her shoulder.
Her back arched, nails digging into his arms. "Leander."
The sound seemed to break something in him. His movements turned rougher, more desperate, as though he was trying to claim her, anchor her, silence every whisper in the pack with the way he touched her.
Adanna clung to him, torn between fury and need, knowing this was reckless, wrong, inevitable all the same.
The world narrowed to heat, skin, breathless gasps and muffled cries against the stone. Every clash between them—anger, fear, desire—boiled into this moment.
When it finally broke, when they both stilled, trembling in the dark, the silence felt heavier than before.
Leander rested his forehead against hers, chest heaving. "Still think it's a mistake?"
Adanna's throat worked, but no words came.
Her silence said everything.
By the time she pulled her clothes back into place, her hands were shaking. Leander tried to reach for her, but she stepped back.
"Don't," she said, voice raw.
"Adanna—"
"I don't even know what that was."
"It was real," he said firmly.
She shook her head, half-laughing, half-crying. "Or it was exactly what they'll say it was. A stray trying to buy safety with her body."
The words cut him, she saw it in his eyes. But she couldn't take them back.
"Adanna—"
"I can't—" Her voice cracked. "Not now."
And before he could stop her, she turned and fled into the night.