Chapter 4 - Hollow Things
1112 Words
*Raiden – pov*
I hit the heavy bag hard enough for the chain to groan overhead.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Sweat ran down my spine while the younger wolves watched from the edge of the training grounds, trying not to stare too openly.
“Your footwork is sloppy,” I barked at one of them without looking away from the bag.
The boy straightened immediately.
Good.
Pain was temporary. Weakness lingered.
The morning air was cold enough to steam from skin, but none of us felt it much. Wolves ran warmer than humans.
My Beta circled toward me, tossing me a towel.
“You’re in a mood,” he muttered.
“I’m training.”
“You’re trying to murder gym equipment.”
I ignored him and reached for the water bottle near the bench instead.
My wolf had been restless for days.
Pacing. Agitated. No clear reason.
Just a constant pressure beneath my skin like something was coming.
I hated not understanding it.
The pack members slowly filtered out as training ended, leaving only me and my Beta behind.
“You going into town later?” he asked.
“Construction review at Rosewood.”
“The old estate?”
“Mhm.”
“You think the human knows what she bought?”
“No.”
The word came too quickly.
Too certain.
Rafe studied me for a second before wisely deciding not to push further.
Smart man.
I headed toward the packhouse, already irritated by the pounding headache forming behind my eyes.
The second I opened my bedroom door, my temper snapped.
Isabelle lounged across my bed like she belonged there.
Long black curls spread across my sheets. Silk robe hanging off one shoulder. Bare legs crossed slowly as she smiled.
“You really should start locking your door,” she purred.
I stared at her.
My annoyance flared. Get rid of her, or I will. Came Aeron’s voice in my head.
“Get out.”
Her smile faltered slightly.
“That’s not very welcoming.”
“I wasn’t trying to be welcoming.”
She sat up slowly.
“Still angry?”
My jaw tightened.
Three years.
Three years she’d kept trying to crawl back into my bed.
Three years since the rogue attack.
Three years since one stupid, reckless night after too much whiskey and too much rage.
The pack had been celebrating after a territorial dispute victory. Music. Drinking. Chaos.
I had gone numb after my mother died.
Not sad.
Not grieving properly.
Just—
Empty.
And Isabelle had been there.
Warm hands. Easy smiles. Familiar attention.
I lost control for one night.
One pathetic moment in the backseat of my car while wolves were bleeding at the borders of our land.
The guilt afterward nearly tore my wolf apart.
Aeron hated meaningless things. He barely spoke to me for days afterward.
“I said get out,” I repeated coldly.
Her expression hardened now.
“There’s no one else, Raiden.”
“There will never be you.”
I could see the effect of my words on her face. Good.
She stood abruptly, fury flashing across her face.
“You’re thirty-five,” she snapped. “Still chasing some fantasy mate bond like a naïve teenager.”
I stepped closer slowly, dangerously calm.
“Leave.”
She held my gaze for one stubborn second longer before grabbing her heels and storming toward the door.
“You’ll regret this and end up alone,” she hissed.
The door slammed shut.
Silence settled heavily around me.
I scrubbed a hand down my face slowly.
Alone.
The word echoed longer than it should have.
The truth was, I didn’t know if I even understood love properly.
Not real love, healthy love.
My parents had been mated for decades, yet I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen genuine affection between them.
Their marriage was more like a business arrangement than love.
My father had always been a cold man.
After my mother died, whatever little warmth existed died with her.
Sometimes I wondered if he blamed me for not being here and fighting with the warriors, not doing my duty to the pack.
A knock sounded against the door.
Rafe leaned against it casually.
“Your father wants you.”
---
My father stood near the large windows of his office when I entered.
Hands behind his back.
Expression unreadable as always.
“Raiden.”
“Father.”
He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk, but I remained standing.
An almost invisible flicker of annoyance crossed his face.
“You asked to see me?” I asked.
“There’s a situation developing at Rosewood.”
My attention sharpened immediately.
“The new owner?”
“Yes.”
He moved toward the desk slowly.
“A human woman.”
The words should have meant nothing.
But Aeron went on alert at the mention of the human.
“There’s unusual activity around the estate already,” he continued. “Questions. Curiosity.”
“That place has been abandoned for years.”
“Exactly.”
Something about his tone bothered me.
It felt too careful, too measured.
“I want you to keep an eye on it.”
“You think she’s a threat?”
“I think,” he replied calmly, “that unknown variables become dangerous when ignored.”
I crossed my arms slowly.
“You could’ve sent patrol wolves.”
“This requires discretion.”
A pause.
Then—
“There’s also the mating ball next month.”
I almost sighed.
Here we go.
“You’ll attend.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
His gaze lingered heavily on me now.
“You’re running out of time, Raiden.”
Something dark moved beneath my ribs.
“I’m aware of my age.”
“You need stability. An heir. A future.”
Translation:
A chosen mate.
A political alliance. A life that looked acceptable on paper.
My wolf growled low inside me.
I ignored him.
“I’ll handle Rosewood,” I said instead.
My father nodded once.
Conversation over.
Dismissal disguised as agreement.
I turned and left without another word.
---
The drive to Rosewood should have been routine.
Instead, my wolf became increasingly restless the closer I got.
Alert.
Focused.
Almost frantic.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
“What is it?”
I feel something.
Then the estate appeared through the trees.
And everything inside me stopped.
Standing near the front steps, blueprints in hand, platinum hair catching the afternoon light, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
The second her eyes lifted to mine, Aeron surged forward with terrifying certainty.
Mate.
- Writer
