Chapter 3
825 Words
Chapter Three
Gavin
The window was cracked just enough to let in the scent of pine and the low hum of distant howls. Gavin sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, trying not to lose himself in the weight of it all.
He should’ve been asleep hours ago.
Instead, his thoughts circled like vultures. Lyra. The bond. The look in her eyes when she realized what he was to her—like someone had flipped her world upside down and told her to smile about it.
His wolf was restless. Hell, he was restless.
He dragged a hand through his hair, let out a breath through his nose. The Shadow Pack’s guest quarters were plain—wood walls, no personal touches, nothing comforting—but it beat sleeping under a tree. Not that he’d complain either way. He hadn’t come here for comfort.
The door creaked behind him. Gavin didn’t turn. He already knew the scent: sharp with peppermint and sage.
“Elena,” he said.
“You’re sulking,” she replied, breezing in with a lightness that didn't match the tension in his gut. “It’s not a good look.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Right.” She sat in the chair across from him, crossed her legs. “Thinking. Staring at the floor counts as thinking now?”
He shot her a sidelong glance but didn’t answer.
“She doesn’t trust you, you know,” Elena said. “Lyra.”
“I wouldn’t either.”
That gave her pause. “That’s honest.”
“I didn’t come here looking for a welcome mat,” he muttered. “I came because things are going to go bad fast, and she’s in the crosshairs whether she realizes it or not.”
Elena leaned forward, voice quieter. “Then tell her everything. Give her a reason to believe you.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw. The stubble there was starting to itch. “I want to. But it’s not that simple. If I dump everything on her now, she’ll have to act. And if she moves too soon—”
“You think she can’t handle it?”
“I think she has too much to handle already.”
There was a beat of silence. Elena’s eyes narrowed, but not unkindly. “You like her.”
He looked away. “She’s my mate.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
No. It wasn’t.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.
She stood, brushing invisible dust from her pants. “She’s going to ask for you soon. Try not to say anything dumb.”
The door shut behind her.
Gavin stood and crossed to the window, resting a hand on the frame. The forest outside was quiet, but he could feel Lyra out there, somewhere in the dark. Her presence prickled under his skin like static. No matter how much space she tried to put between them, the bond stretched taut, refusing to be ignored.
He was still standing there when the door opened again—no knock, no announcement.
Lyra.
Her posture was straight, shoulders stiff, but her eyes… they were tired. She didn’t move past the doorway.
“We need to talk,” she said.
He nodded once. “I figured.”
A beat passed.
She took two steps in but no farther. “My council has questions. So do I.”
“Ask.”
Her jaw clenched. “Are you a spy for your father?”
“No.” His voice was firm. “I left the Night Pack because of him. Not for him.”
Lyra crossed her arms. “And I’m supposed to just… take your word for it?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’ll prove it. Whatever it takes.”
She studied him like she was searching for cracks in a wall. He held her gaze.
“He’s building something,” Gavin continued. “Your territory, your people—it’s all in his sights. I thought I could warn you from a distance, but then…”
She tensed.
“Then I found you,” he said quietly. “And everything changed.”
Her lips parted just a little. But whatever she might’ve said, she swallowed it down.
“I don’t need a man charging in to save me,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then don’t act like my protector.”
“I’m not. I’m your ally.”
Lyra’s expression flickered—barely—but it was there. Uncertainty. A crack in the armor.
“You want to help?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Then train with my warriors. Show them you belong here. Until then, stay out of my way.”
Gavin didn’t flinch. “Understood.”
She turned and left, her scent lingering in the room long after she disappeared down the hall.
He stood alone again, but this time, his wolf was quiet. Watching.
Waiting.
- Writer
