Chapter 20
1247 Words
Gwen
Since Justin, since Cain's silence, since the moment I realized no one was coming to save me, I started writing.
I found a journal in the back of a drawer and started filling it, page after page, letter after letter. They were all addressed to him—my mate. The one I hadn’t met. Or maybe I had. The one who hadn’t come. Or maybe… wouldn’t.
Dear Mate,
Today I remembered what it felt like to laugh without feeling guilty. Olivia made a joke about how wolves must have invented kitchen gossip. I smiled. For a second, it felt real. Then I remembered I don’t get to have real anymore.
I wonder if you’re out there. If you’ve already felt the pull. If you’ve ignored it, like everyone else has ignored me.
I don’t blame you. But I still wish you’d come.
I wrote until my hands cramped. I filled pages with memories I wanted to forget and dreams I still dared to keep. When the pain got too sharp, I stopped writing and started whispering.
To no one. And maybe to him.
I hope you’ll be kind. I hope you won’t be like the others. I hope your hands will feel like safety, not cages.
And if you’re already near me and just afraid—please stop being afraid. I’m here waiting.
Caine
I stared out the window of the cabin where Derrick and I had holed up for strategy sessions. Snow dusted the pine branches. The scent of firewood and guilt hung heavy in the air.
"I can’t stop thinking about her," I admitted. "Even now. Even after everything."
Derrick leaned forward from the chair opposite me, a half-empty mug of coffee in his hand. "You feel the bond. Of course you can’t stop."
"She told me to stay away. That she wished I were someone else. That I was just another person who let her down."
He was quiet for a moment, then said, "You never told her who you really are. You made her trust someone who wasn’t real."
"Achilles is real," I muttered.
"Not to her. Not when she needed Cain."
The fire crackled in the hearth, the warmth doing nothing to thaw the ache in my chest.
"When you and Jordan marked each other," I said, "how did it feel?"
He smiled faintly, fingers tracing the rim of his mug. "Like the world got quieter and louder at the same time. Every part of me locked into place."
"Was it... easy?"
Derrick laughed softly. "No. But it was right."
I nodded slowly. "I want that. I want her. But duty—"
"Duty is why we fight," Derrick cut in. "But mates are why we survive."
The truth of it settled heavy on me.
"She thinks Achilles is better than me," I said. "More understanding. More present."
Derrick raised a brow. "Then maybe it’s time you let her see that they’re the same person."
I hesitated. "Can I trust you to keep that to yourself? For now?"
"Of course."
He stood, stretching. "By the way… Can I tell Jordan the truth? About being a royal Beta?"
I looked at him—my most loyal friend, mated to a woman who had no idea who he truly was.
"I’ll think about it," I said.
He nodded once and walked toward the door, leaving me alone with the fire, the cold, and with my thoughts.
Gwen
The dressmaker’s pins prickled against my skin as I stood on the platform, arms outstretched in the center of my bedroom. The gown shimmered like snowfall—silver and pale blue satin that swept down my legs in a fluid, ethereal cascade. I should have felt like a princess.
Instead, I felt like a prisoner being gilded for show.
Justin lounged in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that unreadable expression he always wore now. I focused on the window behind him instead. The sky outside was soft gray, light diffused through thin winter clouds.
Then I saw it.
A shadow moved between the trees at the edge of the woods.
A wolf—massive, dark, unmistakable.
Achilles.
My breath caught, and for one impossible, shivering second, I felt Akira stir deep inside me. She surged toward the surface, desperate to break through my skin and race to him, to throw herself into his fur and feel something real.
Achilles. Here. In daylight.
My pulse fluttered in my throat. My eyes locked on the treeline, searching for another glimpse.
But Justin’s voice dragged me back.
“You like the dress?” he asked, tone deceptively casual. “I thought it suited you. Pure. Elegant.”
I turned toward him slowly, hiding the tremor in my hands by gripping the edge of the fitting stand.
“It’s fine,” I said flatly.
His eyes narrowed. “You seem distracted.”
I forced a smile, too tight. “Just nerves.”
He moved closer, the room shrinking with every step he took. “Tomorrow is important. You’ll stand by my side in front of alphas from across the kingdom. You understand what that means, don’t you?”
I nodded.
I didn’t trust myself to speak.
Dear Mate,
I saw you today. I think. I hope. I felt you like a whisper in my bones.
You were the only real thing in a world built on lies.
Third Person POV
The trees whispered around him, heavy with snow and silence, as Achilles padded toward the edge of the forest. His paws barely made a sound on the frozen earth. His wolf form was massive, fur dark as shadow and dusted with frost. He moved like a ghost through the woods—silent, unseen, aching.
He shouldn’t have come.
But her scent had been a siren’s call, sweet and aching, laced with sorrow and fading hope. Even from the tree line, it wrapped around him like silk and barbed wire.
Gwen.
He stopped just beyond the clearing and lifted his head. There she was.
The window framed her like a portrait—back straight, arms lifted slightly as the dressmaker adjusted the shimmering gown around her. She looked like a goddess carved from winter: regal, cold, untouchable.
But her eyes… Her eyes searched the trees. Her lips parted. And for one aching second, Achilles felt it.
She saw him.
Akira stirred within her. He felt it through the thinnest thread of the bond—dormant, wounded, but not gone. Her wolf reached for him. Longed for him. Knew him.
His claws curled into the snow. Every instinct screamed at him to go to her. To shift. To tell her the truth. That he was here. That he had never stopped watching her, never stopped caring.
But another figure stepped behind her. A man. Justin.
Achilles growled low in his chest, the sound barely more than breath and fire. Justin touched her elbow. She flinched.
Her gaze broke away.
And the moment was gone.
She turned back toward the fitting stand, mask slipping back into place. Beautiful. Composed. Dying inside.
Achilles lowered his head and backed into the trees, swallowed once more by shadows.
He had seen her. And she had seen him.
But it wasn’t enough.
Not yet.
I felt you see me, little fox. Even if you don't know what you were looking at. Even if you're trying to forget me.
I will keep watching. I will keep waiting. For you to call my name.
- Writer
