Chapter 12 Hollow
1381 Words
Daxus sat on the edge of his bed, his hands braced against his knees, breathing shallow and strained. The morning light filtered through the high arched windows, catching dust in golden beams, but it did nothing to soothe him.
He ran a hand through his dark hair and stared at the floor like it held answers he couldn’t find within himself.
He’d crossed a line.
Not in law or duty—but in instinct. In desire. In something baser than either.
Avane Monroe.
Even thinking her name stirred something conflicted in his chest. She wasn’t his mate. He had always known that. And yet, that night at the gala... he'd exploded. There was no other word for it. His control—so rigid, so honed—had shattered in the span of minutes.
She had given herself to him willingly. Beautiful and bright, full of something fragile he hadn’t seen in anyone else in years. And he had taken her—eagerly, greedily—ignoring the voice that told him to stop.
Now, days later, that voice was screaming.
He hadn't seen her since. Hadn't reached out. Part of him had rationalized that silence was kinder. That allowing her to focus on her studies, to find her own path, was what was best for both of them.
But another part—a much louder one—called it cowardice.
She didn’t seem like someone waiting around for anyone. Word had reached him that she’d buried herself in coursework, making a name for herself in the academic circles of Blackwood University. That her professors praised her work ethic. That she was thriving.
It made his guilt worse, somehow.
He stood abruptly and paced to the window, watching the wind ripple across the forest canopy. The kingdom lay quiet this morning—deceptively so. The external threats had been neutralized for now, but Daxus knew the real danger hadn’t been what they could see. It was always what hid in the cracks. What lingered beneath the surface.
Much like the unrest in his own soul.
His skin prickled, rippled along his arms and spine as if trying to shed itself of regret. But it wasn’t just guilt. It was a war within—a burning confusion that refused to be named.
He needed clarity.
He needed the Hollow.
It took less than an hour to reach the sacred place, deep in the heart of the Blackwood Territory. No one followed him. No guards. No aides. No eyes. Just the wind and the hush of branches parting.
The Hollow was old. Older than him. Older than the kingdom.
A ring of stones encircled the earth there, soft and sun-warmed. The trees bent around it like watchers. A natural cradle of stillness.
He stepped into the ring and knelt.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then came the pulse.
Not a sound. Not a voice. Just knowing.
This was the place of becoming. The place of being.
He exhaled everything he carried—all the noise, the desire, the shame, the what-ifs—and let the Hollow strip him bare.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours.
When he finally rose, his shoulders were lighter. His thoughts clearer.
The guilt was still there, but it no longer screamed. The fire in his chest had cooled to embers—still burning, but contained. Manageable.
Returning to the estate felt different this time. He opened the door to his private residence and paused.
It felt emptier than usual.
Not just physically—but spiritually.
The silence of the place, once comforting, now hung like a heavy curtain. The furniture was untouched. The hearth cold. The air stale.
Daxus sank into the couch and leaned back, letting the hollowness settle around him.
There was a time he had loved this solitude. Now it felt like exile.
Cassian he called, reaching for his Gamma. Are you free?
The answer came swiftly, sharper than expected.
Always, Alpha. I was just organizing the territory census. What do you need?
I’ve been trying to reach Alec, Daxus said, a frown forming. He hasn’t responded to the link in days.
There was a pause.
We noticed his silence too, but assumed he was in one of the off-grid sectors. Want me to send someone to verify?
No, Daxus said firmly. Not yet. Just stay alert.
He exhaled once, focusing his thoughts.
Bring me the reports for the annual circle. All ten thousand packs. I want a full accounting. Every Alpha. Every shift in leadership. Every border dispute. Bring it all to the estate.
Understood, Cassian replied immediately. I’ll be there by sunset.
Good, Daxus said. Then after a beat: And Cass—thanks for answering. I didn’t want to sit with this silence any longer.
You’re never alone, Alpha, the Gamma said with quiet certainty. Even if it feels that way.
The link faded.
Daxus leaned back into the couch, his expression unreadable, eyes drifting toward the empty fireplace once more.
The conflict inside him had cooled, like steel being tempered. Hardened but not brittle. Forged in heat, not shattered by it.
There was work to do. And he would do it.
But the image of her still remained—bright, stubborn, and irreversibly carved into him.
Perhaps that was the real threat all along.
Not war.
Not enemies.
But the truth of a moment he could never undo.
It was nearing that time of year again—when all the Alphas under his domain gave their account. When order was reaffirmed. When peace, however thin, was signed in silence.
The ritual was part tradition, part necessity. But it also served another purpose: it grounded him. Reminded him of his place. His role. His legacy.
And he needed that reminder now.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed the back of his neck. The Hollow had quieted the storm, but the echoes still stirred. Not everything could be solved in a sacred grove.
He thought of her again.
Of how her lips had parted when he kissed her, uncertain but trusting.
Of how her hands had clutched his shoulders, both hesitant and bold.
Of how her eyes had locked with his right before everything fell away and instinct took over.
He had marked her in passion—not in the way of claiming, not permanently—but in a way that was still deep.
Still wrong.
He hadn’t been able to say a word to her since.
Coward.
And yet, what would he say if he saw her now?
Would she want to see him?
Would she hate him?
Did she feel abandoned?
Or worse—did she feel nothing at all?
He clenched his jaw. No. That night had meant something. It had to. Even if it wasn’t destined. Even if it wasn’t right.
He had let something pure within him act without thought—and now, all he could do was try to live with the aftershocks.
The click of the door broke the silence, and his gamma entered, carrying three leather-bound dossier in one hand.
Dax frowned.
“Alpha,” he greeted with a respectful nod. “You look... less like hell.”
Daxus gave him a dry smirk. “The Hollow helps.”
“I figured that’s where you’d gone.”
Cassian took the seat opposite him and flipped open the file. He launched into summaries and territory charts, but Daxus only half-listened at first. His gaze lingered on the window again, on the trees beyond.
Cassian looked at his king. He had heard about what happened but no one really got into anyone's business. Besides, he was King and he could do whatever he wanted.
Uninvited she strolled into his mind again.
She wasn’t part of his world. Not really.
But she had changed something in it.
As Cass spoke, Daxus straightened, letting his spine align with purpose again. The conflict inside him had cooled, like steel being tempered. Hardened but not brittle. Forged in heat, not shattered by it.
There was work to do. And he would do it.
But the image of her still remained—bright, stubborn, and irreversibly carved into him.
Perhaps that was the real threat all along.
Not war.
Not enemies.
But the truth of a moment he could never undo.
- Writer
