Marked by Desire

Chapter fifteen

RHETT’S POV

Something was wrong with me.

I could feel it.

I just didn’t know how to fix it.

“Again.”

The word came out sharper than I meant it to.

The warrior in front of me hesitated for half a second before moving, and that was enough. I stepped in fast, hitting harder than necessary. He blocked, but not well enough. I pushed forward again, forcing him back until he lost his balance and hit the ground.

I stepped away, already done.

“That’s enough,” I said.

“You’re going to break someone at this rate.” Alec said

I didn’t turn.

“He’s fine,” I replied.

“He won’t be if you keep going like that.”

I grabbed a cloth and wiped my hands, ignoring the way Alec kept watching me.

“You’ve been off all morning,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

I exhaled slowly. “Drop it.”

Alec didn’t move. “You’re distracted.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“And I’m saying you’re not.”

I finally looked at him, irritation creeping in. “Why do you care so much?”

His expression didn’t change. “Because you’re my brother.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

I looked away almost immediately.

“I can handle myself,” I said.

“That’s not the point,” Alec replied. “You’re not focused. You’re reacting to things that aren’t even here.”

I didn’t respond.

Because he wasn’t completely wrong.

That only made it worse.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Nothing.”

“Rhett—”

“It’s nothing,” I repeated.

Silence stretched between us.

Alec studied my face for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether to push or not.

Then he sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “But whatever it is… don’t let it get in your way.”

I nodded once.

He didn’t look convinced.

But he let it go.

And somehow, that felt worse than if he hadn’t.

I didn’t like lying to him.

But I wasn’t about to explain any of this either.

⸻

I left the training grounds not long after that.

The air felt cooler away from the noise, but it didn’t help. My head was still crowded, my thoughts stuck in the same place they’d been all day.

Her.

The bond was quiet now, but I could still feel it.

Still there.

Always there.

“You’re leaving already?”

I didn’t slow down.

Haylee fell into step beside me anyway.

“I thought you’d stay longer,” she continued. “You usually do.”

“I’m done for today.”

She glanced at me, studying my face. “You don’t look done. You look distracted.”

I didn’t respond.

She moved a little closer. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

She let out a small breath. “Everyone keeps saying that today.”

I stopped walking.

She turned to face me.

“What?” she asked.

I looked at her for a second, then shook my head. “Forget it.”

She frowned slightly. “You’ve been acting strange.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said.

I didn’t argue this time. I just stepped past her and kept walking.

“Rhett,” she called after me.

I didn’t stop.

I wasn’t in the mood.

And I didn’t have the patience for it.

⸻

By the time I reached the pack house, the tension hadn’t eased at all.

If anything, it had settled deeper.

I stepped inside, the familiar structure quiet compared to the training grounds.

“Rhett.”

I turned.

One of the guards stood a few steps away.

“The Alpha wants to see you.”

My expression shifted slightly.

“When?” I asked.

“Now.”

I nodded once.

“Alright.”

The guard stepped aside.

I stood there for a second longer, my thoughts catching up with me.

My father didn’t call for me without a reason.

Which meant this wasn’t going to be simple.

I exhaled slowly, then started toward his office

The corridors of the pack house were quiet at this hour. Most of the pack had settled in for the night, leaving only a few guards stationed along the walls. Their eyes followed me as I passed, but none of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

News traveled fast in a pack like ours.

By the time I reached the door to my father’s office, I already felt like I was being measured.

I knocked once.

“Come in.”

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a lamp on the desk. My father sat behind it, papers spread out in front of him. He didn’t look up immediately.

That alone told me this wasn’t a casual conversation.

“Close the door,” he said.

I did.

The click sounded louder than it should have.

I turned back around and stood a few steps in front of his desk, waiting.

He finally looked up.

His gaze was steady, unreadable. The kind of look that made most people straighten without realizing it.

“Rhett.”

“Father.”

A short pause followed.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying me in silence. Not in a rushed way. Not distracted. Just… observing.

That alone made something in me tighten.

“You’ve been active in training today,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“More aggressive than usual.”

I didn’t respond immediately.

He didn’t need confirmation. He had already seen it somehow, or heard about it.

“Is there a reason for that?” he asked.

“Just training,” I said.

Another pause.

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

“That’s not what I asked.”

I held his gaze. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

He tilted his head slightly, like he was considering my answer rather than accepting it.

“Reports have been coming in from the borders,” he said. “Increased movement. Traces of rival wolves.”

I nodded once. “Alec mentioned it.”

“I would expect nothing less,” he replied.

Silence settled again.

He reached forward, flipping one of the papers on his desk, though his attention was still on me.

“You’re next in line to lead this pack,” he said.

“I know.”

“Then you understand what that means.”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

His tone shifted slightly. Not harsher. Just more direct.

“It means your focus cannot drift.”

I didn’t react outwardly.

But the words landed exactly where he intended them to.

“You represent more than yourself,” he continued. “Every decision you make reflects on this pack. On its strength. On its future.”

“I understand,” I said.

“Do you?”

That question came sharper.

I met his eyes again. “Yes.”

He held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

Then he stood.

The movement was slow, controlled. He walked around his desk, stopping a few steps away from me.

“You’ve been different lately,” he said.

My chest tightened slightly, but I kept my expression steady.

“Different how?” I asked.

He studied me again. “Distracted. Unsettled.”

I didn’t respond.

“I’ve seen you in training,” he continued. “You push harder than you should. You lose restraint when it isn’t needed.”

I stayed silent.

“That is not like you.”

The room felt smaller suddenly.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly.

“So I’ll ask you directly.”

I waited.

“Is something distracting you?”

There it was.

Not an accusation.

A test.

I held his gaze.

“No,” I said.

A pause followed.

He didn’t react immediately. Didn’t agree. Didn’t disagree.

Just watched me.

Like he was waiting for something more.

Something I wasn’t giving.

“Very well,” he said at last, though his tone suggested the conversation wasn’t over.

He turned slightly, walking back toward his desk.

“For now,” he added, “I’ll trust that you remain focused on your responsibilities.”

I nodded once. “I am.”

Another brief silence.

Then he sat back down.

“Border patrols will increase,” he said, returning to the earlier topic as if testing whether I would follow through. “I want you involved.”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes lifted again.

“Report anything unusual,” he added.

“I will.”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze still steady.

“You may go.”

I didn’t move immediately.

For a brief second, I felt like he hadn’t said everything he wanted to say.

Like he had more questions… but chose not to ask them.

After a moment, I gave a short nod.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Rhett.”

I turned and left the office.

The door closed behind me with a soft click.

And only when I was back in the hallway did I finally release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

My father hadn’t accused me of anything.

But he had noticed.

That much was clear.

And that meant one thing.

I needed to be more careful.

Because whatever I was hiding…

It wasn’t going to stay hidden forever.