Untamable

Chapter 13 Match

Edwards’ POV

I'm sitting in a dimly lit tent, staring at the letter in my hand as the flickering candlelight throws Noah's shadow into a disco dance routine across the walls.

"What does General George say?" Noah asks, leaning in, his curiosity as thick as the melted candle wax puddling on the table.

"He agreed," I reply flatly, still trying to process the weight of those words.

The general promises troops to help me take out the rogues, on the condition that I must free his daughter Augusta from Henry.

"Everything's just as you predicted, Noah," I say, rubbing my face like I'm trying to iron out the wrinkles of my suddenly complicated life. "It's absolutely nuts."

"Never underestimate a father's love," Noah replies with a shrug.

"Easy for you to say. I've never had a taste of that fatherly affection," I reply dryly.

"You don't seem happy," Noah observes.

"Of course not!" I exclaim, my voice a cocktail of disbelief and exasperation. "Marrying Lady Augusta is not exactly my idea."

"Think long-term, Edward," Noah advises, stretching his words. "Given the circumstances, agreeing to the general's terms is the best strategy."

"But what if I meet my fated mate after I marry Lady Augusta?" I ask, starting to feel like the leading man in a romantic tragedy.

"That's a long shot—80% of werewolves never meet their fated mate," Noah replies, rattling off statistics nonchalantly

I'm taken aback by the odds. I've never doubted Noah’s facts, though. He's the type who could ace a pop quiz on data analysis if it existed.

"Those are some bleak odds," I mutter, stubbornly adding, "But what if I'm in that 20%?"

"Then you'd have to choose between Lady Augusta and your fated mate. Essentially, give one the boot," Noah says emotionlessly.

"You really have a knack for comfort, don’t you?" I laugh, even though it feels more like I'm dragging that laugh by its heels.

"I'm not here to be comforting," Noah points out. "I am stating the facts."

"Well, your facts are currently doing wonders for my mood," I grumble.

Noah finally shows a flicker of sympathy. "That's a bridge to cross later. Don't worry about what's not here yet, Edward," he says softly.

"You're right," I concede, standing up as if I'm about to deliver a motivational speech to... myself.

"Where are you headed?" Noah asks, still curious as ever.

"For a breath of sanity," I reply.

"Upset that your playboy days are over, Player?" Noah jokes.

"Shut up, you virgin," I fire back with a smirk.

He blushes, and I take that as my cue to step out before he decides to come back with a witty comeback.

"Good evening, Your Highness," the guards nod as I stroll past them. From their curious expressions, I can tell they're wondering where I'm off to, but they wisely keep their questions to themselves.

"Evening," I nod back. "Just heading out for a little stroll."

"Would you like some company?" one of them offers, more out of duty than any real desire to join me on my walk.

"No thanks, I'd prefer to be alone for a bit," I reply.

"But our camp is near rogue territory," another guard points out, his voice tinged with concern. "Walking alone at night might not be safe. You might bump into a rogue or worse."

"Isn't that why we're here? To find and deal with those rogues?" I arch an eyebrow, adjusting the dagger strapped to my calf. "I'm not afraid of meeting them, I'm afraid I'll end up playing hide-and-seek and never find them."

"Good luck, Your Highness," the guards say, nodding with respect and a seriousness that seems more fitting for a royal meeting than a nighttime walk.

The cool night air clears my head a bit, like a splash of cold water, but my steps are heavy, and my mood feels like that permanent gray cloud that just won't quit.

After what feels like an eternity wandering, I stumble upon a girl sulking in the woods, her defiance practically screaming, "I am a rogue."

I can't believe I am so lucky.

If she's a rogue, their hideout can't be too far.

As I contemplate my next move, a captivating figure appears, almost as if she’s sunrise itself breaking through the trees. This sight makes me genuinely stop in my tracks.

This young woman carries herself with a blend of strength and wisdom, and her beauty isn’t just for show—it's like she’s got a whole collection of tales hidden somewhere.

I can't help but keep my eyes glued to her as she talks to the girl, her face full of genuine concern. I'm listening in, pretending I'm invisible, which is a skill I've yet to master.

Elizabeth. That’s what the girl calls her. Now that's a name that’s easy on the ears.

When Elizabeth manages to convince the girl to go back, my heart does a little jump. That's a clear sign they must have a camp nearby!

I can’t tear myself away from the scene. She’s trying to sound bossy, and I’m holding back a chuckle at how seriously she’s laying it down. Once she gets the headstrong kid to move along, my respect for her jumps up a notch. I mean, dealing with teenagers? That’s no small feat.

Once the troublemaker is sent on her way, Elizabeth shifts her gaze to me. Suddenly, I feel like she’s just seen through my intentions with a single glance.

Instinct tells me not to scare Elizabeth or make her suspicious. She's got smarts and a cool head that you'd really admire. So, I decide to act like I'm just some outcast wolf and ask if there’s a place nearby where I can crash for the night.

I put on my best tired-and-sad face, hoping to tug at her heart and she will lead me to the rogue hideout.

Elizabeth hesitates, and I see a flicker of doubt. She’s no pushover. Her guard is up. Her caution is solid as a shield. Whether by nature or by nurture, I cannot tell.

Her eyes give me the once-over, probably trying to see if my shabby-story matches my not-so-shabby clothes. Then she asks, "Which pack are you from?",

I know she is not easily convinced.

"Silver Moon Pack," I reply smoothly, mentally reminding myself to keep it together.

"Why were you cast out?" she asks, her tone bears traces of skepticism.

"I turned down Alpha Robin’s daughter Dorothy's hand in marriage, so they gave me the boot," I say nonchalantly, shrugging like it's no big deal.

Elizabeth frowns, likely cross-referencing my story with her own experiences. I prepare for her doubt to frustrate me, but instead, her discerning calmness only makes me respect her more.

Finally, she speaks with a firm resolve that signals a decision has been made. "Alright, come with me." I nod, trying to mimic the demeanor of a grateful soul, following her with a mix of excitement and complexity brewing in my heart.

As we walk, I can't resist stealing glances at her. Up close, Elizabeth is glowing in the moonlight. Her long red hair sways gently with the breeze, like silk weaving into the natural backdrop.

Her face is a work of art. A strong nose, lips curved with a hint of confidence and wit. Her eyes are like deep pools of wisdom Even standing still, she's like a rose facing the wind, fearless and proud.

She’s a picture of kindness and strength, like someone who's seen life and lived to tell the tale.

"Why are you staring at me?" she suddenly asks.

I don't look away, meeting her inquisitive gaze. "Because you’re stunning," I say, pausing before adding, "And you were staring at me too."

Caught off guard, she blushes, a cuteness I find endearing.

"I... I don't think we're staring for the same reason," she says flusteredly, her words betraying a hint of nervousness.

"Is that so?" I ask with feigned surprise, "You're not looking because I'm handsome?"

"No," she adamantly denies.

"Alright," I grin. "Then why were you staring?"

She opens her mouth, unable to claim she suspects me. After a moment's thought, she ultimately admits, "Okay, fine, because you're handsome."

I can't help but chuckle.

"My apologies if I assumed you were lying," she suddenly says.

I hold my breath, wondering what’s next. "A sly guy like you wouldn’t just snub Alpha Robin’s daughter," she continues. "You’d say yes, take over the Silver Moon Pack, then ditch Dorothy."

"What makes you think that?" I ask.

She purses her lips, hinting at a history.

"Have you been through this yourself?" I probe.

"That's a rude question," she says.

"You were the one who assumed I’m sneaky," I counter. "I’m just blessed with good looks. Do you have a problem with handsome folks?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. "No," she replies.

I raise an eyebrow, feeling cheeky. Though I should back off, I can't resist being playful.

I step closer; she steps back. We do this little dance until she’s backed against a tree, cornered from my first move.

"I’m loyal to my mate," I say, leaning in slightly. "Actually, I've been waiting for my fated mate. Otherwise, why refuse Dorothy and the Silver Moon Pack? You owe me an apology for your bias."

Her quickened breath and startled eyes spark a primitive thrill in me.

"I’m sorry," she finally says, words barely above a whisper.

"It’s all good," I say, noting her furious gaze while her hand sliding toward her side.

That’s odd. Shouldn't she be shoving me away? What’s that for…Then, I catch a glimpse of the sheath on her waist. Ah, that makes things a tad clearer.

I take a step back, smartly giving her some space to catch her breath and ensuring I don't end up on the sharp end of her patience—or her knife.

"Thanks for showing me the way," I say, trying to keep things light.

"You're welcome," she replies, her hand casually drifting away from the knife handle, almost like it was never there in the first place.

She takes the lead, casting the occasional glance back. Watching her from behind, I can’t help but smile, even though there's a twinge of sadness gnawing at me.

I really like this woman.

But she's a rogue.

Once I bring the troops and seize their base, she'll hate me. Loathe me, probably.

But do I even have a choice?

This is between me and Henry.

I must do this for the throne.

I sigh inwardly, silently murmuring an apology to her retreating figure, even if she can’t hear my regret.

It turns out that my apology is not necessary, for I completely underestimated Elizabeth.

Instead of leading me to a rogue hideout, she takes me straight to a formal pack.

As I see The Wood Pack's landmark, shock and disappointment wash over me and I cannot help but gawk.

I try to mask my emotions and then realise that it is too late.

Elizabeth, that clever she-wolf, has caught the slip in my expression. She's been eyeing me like a hawk this whole time, and I've blundered right into her chess game.

I glance around, and suddenly find myself chuckling when I find she has vanished without a trace.

Looks like I've met my match—and she's an impressive one.