Chapter 6
1078 Words
The yard emptied slowly after Blackridge disappeared into the house.
Engines ticked as they cooled. Wolves drifted off in clumps, buzzing with low, excited talk. Amara stood where she was, staring at the doors Rowan had just walked through, the air around her still vibrating from that brief look.
“Frost?” Jace’s voice came from her left. “You still with us?”
She dragged in a breath. Rowan’s scent still clung to the back of her throat—clean pine, cold metal, something darker. Her wolf shoved against her ribs, wanting to follow.
“I’m fine,” she said. It came out rough. “Escort briefing in ten. Don’t be late.”
Jace studied her a second longer, brow furrowed, then nodded and jogged off.
Amara headed inside.
The main hall buzzed louder than before. Wolves clustered, craning for another glimpse of their guests down the side corridors. Someone was already speculating about Blackridge warriors; someone else argued about how much meat to put aside.
She kept to the wall, slipping into the quieter side passage that led toward the guest wing and the patrol office. Here, the noise dropped to a murmur. The air was cooler.
She should have gone straight to the office.
Instead, her steps slowed.
You felt a pull, she told herself. He didn’t. He walked past you like you were another uniform. That should’ve been the end of it.
Her wolf snarled at that.
Footsteps sounded at the far end of the corridor.
Amara looked up—and froze.
Rowan turned the corner alone. No Gideon, no gamma, no elders. Just him, walking down her hallway like he belonged in it. His coat was unbuttoned now, shirt open at the throat. Up close, he looked more tired than the stories ever mentioned—shadows under his eyes, jaw set too tight.
Her wolf went very, very still.
They stopped a few paces apart.
The bond hit properly this time.
Not a hum, a jolt. Scent, heat, awareness slamming through her so hard she had to lock her knees. Every edge of him sharpened in her vision—the line of his mouth, the scar near his brow, the faint mark on his throat where another wolf had once tried to tear him open and failed.
His nostrils flared. For a heartbeat, shock flashed across his face. Recognition.
Mate.
The word wasn’t spoken, but it rolled through her anyway.
“Alpha Hale,” she managed.
“Frost.” His voice was steady, but she heard the crack under it. Felt it, through that invisible cord now humming between them.
Silence stretched, too tight.
“You felt it,” she said. No point pretending.
His jaw worked. “That’s not a question.”
“Then don’t pretend you didn’t.”
His gaze swept her face, dropped to her clenched fists, came back up. Everything in him looked braced, like he was holding a door shut with his shoulders.
“This is a political visit,” he said at last. “Your Alpha invited us here to renew a treaty. My pack depends on that treaty. So does yours.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said.
He exhaled slowly, eyes closing for a second. When he opened them, there was nothing soft left.
“I don’t have the luxury of ignoring what the Moon does,” Rowan said quietly. “I also don’t have the luxury of letting it dictate every choice I make.”
“Whim,” she said, the word sour on her tongue. “That what you think this is?”
“No.” He flinched. “I know what this is.” His gaze locked on hers. “That’s the problem.”
Her heart hammered. “So what are you going to do about it?”
His expression shuttered further with every word. “Nothing.”
It landed like a blow.
“You’re mated to me,” she said, keeping her voice low by sheer force. “You know that.”
“I know what hit me when I stepped out of that car.” His voice roughened. “I also know I have a union in motion that’s been negotiated for years. Other packs rely on it. If I tear it apart now, they pay for it. My wolves pay for it.”
“And if you pretend this bond isn’t real, I don’t pay for it?” she asked. “Just me, right? One border wolf is easier to ignore than a whole alliance.”
He flinched again. Good.
“This isn’t about you not being enough,” he said. “I’ve built my life on wolves like you.”
“Then what is it about?” she pushed.
“Cost,” he said. “Timing. The fact that if I choose you, I might be choosing war.”
The bond surged at the word choose. Her wolf lunged toward him; she held her ground.
“You’re asking me to let this go,” she said.
“Yes.” He swallowed. “I’m asking you not to burn your life down over a male who can’t step toward you.”
Her throat burned. A laugh scraped out, short and ugly. “You show up on my land, light me up from the inside out, then tell me to turn it off so your schedule isn’t inconvenienced. Got it.”
“Amara—”
Voices sounded at the far end of the corridor—footsteps, low talk. Other wolves approaching.
Rowan straightened, mask slamming into place in a heartbeat.
“Thank you for your service, Frost,” he said, voice suddenly cool, formal. “Your work on the border is appreciated.”
She stared at him. The bond snapped and tugged, furious, but she made herself step back.
“You’re welcome, Alpha,” she said. “Don’t worry. I know my place.”
She turned and walked toward the patrol office before the cracks in her voice could widen.
Each step away from him felt wrong, like forcing herself to walk against a current.
She didn’t look back.
Inside the cramped office, the same maps hung on the same walls. The same radios blinked on their chargers. The same metal chair squeaked when she sat.
Her heart still beat too fast. Her wolf paced, teeth bared.
He’d felt it. He’d named it, in his own way.
And he’d chosen, eyes open, to leave her alone in it.
- Writer
