One Hour
883 Words
(Winter’s POV)
The sun had climbed high by the time he returned.
Winter felt it before she heard it. A mindlink brushed against her awareness—one of the gate guards, respectful, controlled.
Alpha Dion has returned. Entering the grounds now.
Winter didn’t react immediately. She stood at the edge of the training field, watching the final exchange between two warriors as their wooden blades met in a sharp c***k. One hesitated—just slightly—and the other capitalized on it.
Better.
“Enough,” Winter called. The command carried cleanly across the field. Movement stilled almost instantly as the trainees stepped back, lowering their weapons. “Dismissed,” she added.
Relief flickered across a few faces, quickly hidden. They bowed their heads and began to disperse, conversation low and contained as they moved away.
Winter didn’t linger, she turned and walked toward the pack house, her pace steady, her posture as composed as it had been all morning. By the time the SUVs rolled through the main gate and across the clearing, she was already in place, waiting.
The vehicles slowed as they approached, gravel crunching beneath the tires before the lead SUV came to a stop at the base of the porch. As the back door opened, Dion stepped out first. Layla followed. Winter’s gaze moved to her immediately. Her eyes narrowing in annoyance.
Not visibly to anyone who didn’t know her—but enough. Layla looked exactly as she always did. As if nothing had changed. As if nothing had happened.
Winter’s attention shifted back to Dion. His eyes met hers—and widened. Barely noticeable, but she saw it. He hadn’t expected her to be here. That alone told her more than words would have. The surprise was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, smoothed over with practiced ease as Dion straightened and stepped toward her.
“Winter,” he said, his voice warm, controlled.
He closed the distance, arms already lifting—and stopped. Winter’s hand came up, pressing lightly against his chest. It wasn't forceful or aggressive...but final. “I just finished training,” she said.
Dion stilled for a fraction of a second before nodding, recovering easily.
“Of course,” he said, lowering his arms without protest. “We’ll be convening the leadership shortly. I wanted to go over everything from the meeting with you first.”
Winter inclined her head slightly. “When?”
“An hour,” he replied. “I won’t start without you.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Not openly. Not where it mattered.
Dion glanced back over his shoulder toward Layla. “Inform the council. We meet in one hour.”
Layla’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was a flicker there—something sharper, something displeased—as she inclined her head.
“Of course, Alpha.”
Winter didn’t look at her again.
“I’ll prepare,” she said instead, already turning toward the door.
Dion nodded once. “I’ll see you then.”
She didn’t answer. Winter stepped inside the pack house without another glance back, her pace unchanged, her posture as controlled as ever. Behind her—she didn’t see Layla’s expression harden. Didn’t hear the quiet click of her tongue. Didn’t feel the weight of the look she gave Dion as the door shut.
“You could have handled that better,” Layla said, her voice low, edged with quiet irritation. Layla’s eyes narrowed slightly. “After the last few nights, I expected more than that.”
Dion didn't bother to respond to her.
Layla exhaled sharply, turning away. “I’ll inform the council,” she said, already moving. Disappointment lingered in her tone—but she didn’t wait for a response. She didn’t need one.
The pack house had begun to stir more fully now, voices carrying faintly from distant rooms, footsteps echoing along the stone floors. Winter moved through the halls without pause. It didn’t touch her.
Her focus remained on what came next. On what mattered.
She reached her room quickly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her before moving immediately toward the bathroom. The shower turned on with a sharp twist, water rushing to life as steam began to rise almost instantly, filling the space with heat.
Winter reached for the fastenings of her training leathers.
This time—she didn’t drop them.
Each strap loosened. Each buckle undone with practiced precision before the material was removed and set aside properly. Ordered. Placed where it belonged. The rest of her clothing followed. Everything folded. Everything set.
Frost stirred faintly beneath her skin, quieter now, but present.
You are preparing.
“Yes.”
There was no point denying it. Not now.
Winter stepped into the shower, the heat settling over her immediately, water running down her shoulders and back in steady streams. Her eyes closed briefly as the tension of the morning washed away—not the thoughts, not the awareness—but the physical remnants of it.
He was back. That changed things. No more distance.
No more uncertainty. Only—action.
Winter exhaled slowly, her posture straightening under the water as her focus sharpened once more.
One hour.
That was all she needed, and when she walked into that room—she would not be the one unprepared.
- Writer
