why her
1283 Words
chapter 5
Rowan pov
Rowan found Kael at the edge of the cliffs.
His beta stood with his back to the drop, arms crossed, the wind tugging at his coat as if trying—and failing—to push him over. Kael didn’t turn when Rowan approached. He never did. He’d learned long ago to recognize Rowan’s presence without looking.
“You’re bleeding,” Kael said calmly.
Rowan glanced down. A shallow cut lined his knuckles, silver blood drying where his control had slipped earlier. He hadn’t noticed.
“I didn’t feel it,” Rowan replied.
Kael huffed softly. “That’s usually when you’re most dangerous.”
The silence stretched, comfortable and worn by years of shared battles and unspoken truths.
Kael finally turned, dark eyes sharp—not afraid, just observant.
“The elders spoke to you,” he said.
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “They did more than speak.”
Kael’s expression hardened. “About the heir.”
“Yes.”
The word tasted bitter.
Kael exhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the moon.
“You knew this night would come.”
“I knew,” Rowan snapped. Then quieter, “I didn’t know it would involve her.”
That made Kael look at him properly.
“Her,” he repeated. “So it’s true.”
Rowan said nothing.
Kael studied him for a long moment, then cursed under his breath. “Of all the females in all the bloodlines—”
“She’s human,” Rowan said sharply. “She doesn’t know what we are. She shouldn’t even be able to stand near me without breaking.”
“And yet?” Kael pressed.
Rowan’s voice dropped. “And yet she did.”
The admission hung between them, dangerous and irreversible.
“She looked at me,” Rowan continued, fists clenched at his sides, “like she almost remembered something she was never told. Like my presence took something from her the moment I stepped into her space.”
Kael was quiet for a beat. Then, carefully, “Do you want her?”
Rowan laughed—low, humorless. “That’s the wrong question.”
He turned to face the cliff, the darkness below mirroring the thoughts clawing at his mind.
“I want her untouched by this world,” he said. “I want her safe, ignorant, free. And if I want those things…” His voice faltered, just slightly. “Then I can’t have her.”
Kael stepped closer. “And the pack?”
Rowan closed his eyes.
“If I refuse,” he said, “the bloodline ends. The territories fracture. War follows.”
“And if you accept?” Kael asked.
Rowan’s eyes opened, burning now. “Then I destroy the only thing that’s ever looked at me without fear.”
Kael said nothing for a long time.
Then, softly, “You left her in the forest.”
“Yes.”
“And it didn’t break the bond.”
“No.”
Kael nodded once, grim. “Then this isn’t about whether you choose her, Rowan.”
Rowan looked at him.
“It’s about when she realizes she’s already been chosen.”
The words landed like a curse.
Rowan turned away, the wolf inside him restless, furious, aching.
“She will never know,” he said. “I won’t allow it.”
Kael didn’t argue.
He only said, “Just remember—royal blood doesn’t call to power by accident. It answers it.”
The wind howled across the cliffs, carrying the scent of the city far below.
And far away, in a quiet apartment, Zainab lay awake, guilt pressing heavy on her chest—for a loss she still couldn’t name.
************
The night deepened.
Rowan stood alone now, the cliffs empty, Kael gone back to the pack. The wind cut colder without his beta’s presence, carrying the sharp scent of pine and stone. Rowan welcomed it.
Pain was grounding.
You’re avoiding it.
The voice rose from within him, low and familiar.
Not sound, not thought — something older. Sharper.
His wolf.
“I’m thinking,” Rowan replied aloud.
A dark chuckle curled through his chest.
You’re lying.
Rowan closed his eyes.
The wolf was ruthless, like him. It had been forged by blood, war, and survival. It did not cower. It did not beg. But it remembered things
Rowan pretended not to.
You left her in the forest, the wolf said. And still she followed you. Even without knowing how.
“I left her to protect her,” Rowan snapped.
You left her because you were afraid.
Rowan’s hands curled into fists.
“Careful,” he warned.
The wolf did not retreat.
You are Alpha King, it said. You take what is required. You break what resists. That is the law we live by.
“Yes,” Rowan said coldly. “And that law will destroy her.”
Silence followed — heavy, considering.
Then the wolf spoke again, quieter.
She is not prey.
Rowan’s breath hitched before he could stop it.
The admission landed deep, cracking something he kept tightly sealed.
“She’s human,” Rowan said, forcing steel back into his voice. “Fragile. Soft. She would not survive our world.”
And yet she stood before us without breaking, the wolf replied. She did not run. She did not beg.
She did not scream.
Images rose unbidden — dark eyes steady despite fear, a heartbeat loud enough to feel, the scent of royal blood buried beneath humanity.
She is ours.
“No,” Rowan growled.
She is our balance.
Rowan shook his head. “You grow sentimental.”
The wolf’s presence pressed closer, not aggressive — intimate.
Do not confuse softness with weakness, it said. I am ruthless. I would tear the world apart to protect what is mine.
Rowan swallowed.
“And what,” he asked carefully, “is ours?”
The answer came without hesitation.
Her.
The word echoed.
Rowan opened his eyes, staring out into the dark.
“If I claim her, I ruin her life.”
If you do not, the wolf countered, you will hollow her out with absence.
Rowan exhaled slowly, the truth sinking its claws into him.
“And the pack?” he asked.
They need an heir.
“And the she-wolves?” Rowan pressed.
They cannot carry us.
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“And the children?” he asked quietly. “If she bears them?”
For the first time that night, the wolf softened.
Not weak. Never weak.
I will guard them with my life, it said. I will be gentle with what is born of her. I will not frighten them. I will teach them how to survive what they are.
Rowan’s chest ached.
“And Kael?” he asked.
A low, approving rumble answered him.
The beta is pack. He is protected.
Rowan laughed once — breathless, bitter.
“So this is your verdict,” he said. “Ruthless to the world. Soft only for her, for him, for children that don’t exist yet.”
Yes, the wolf said simply. That is how kings endure.
Rowan rested his forehead against the cold stone, finally allowing the weight of it all to settle.
“I won’t touch her,” he whispered. “Not yet.”
The wolf agreed — but with conditions.
Distance will not erase the bond, it said. It will only make her ache.
Rowan straightened, resolve hardening.
“Then I’ll make sure she survives it.”
A pause.
You already care too much, the wolf murmured.
Rowan didn’t deny it.
Far away, beneath a different sky, Zainab turned in her sleep — her heart pulling toward something ancient, dangerous, and already watching over her.
- Writer
