The Choice
The wind whispered through the pines, carrying the scent of rain and earth. The sky was cloaked in deep gray, not quite night, not yet morning. It was the kind of day that felt suspended in time—a breath held between one heartbeat and the next.
Rowan stood on the ridge overlooking the valley, his silhouette carved in silver by the looming full moon behind him. His hands were in his pockets, body still, gaze distant. Below, the pack settlement slumbered in peaceful ignorance. But inside Rowan, there was a storm.
He’d known Caleb would come. Or hoped, more truthfully. It wasn’t a command, or a summons—it was an invitation, passed only through a whisper the night before.
“If you want to talk, meet me where we first trained.”
No promises. No expectations.
Just… a place.
Now,
