I let her
880 Words
Aaron
The paperwork should have taken another day.
Minimum.
That’s what protocol dictates. What precedent demands. What I’ve enforced often enough that no one questions it anymore.
I sign the final clearance anyway.
Administrative rotation waived.
Rest day approved.
It isn’t a favor.
It’s necessity.
Reza took a collision hard enough to rattle her system, followed by a night that left her emotionally exposed and physically unsteady. She needs a day without scrutiny, without obligation, without eyes on her measuring what she owes the pack.
She is my mate.
Destined to remain in this pack, whether she accepts that truth yet or not.
My wolf stirs, satisfied.
- You did right.
- Yes, I say internally. I know.
The confirmation pings through the system seconds later. The bond responds immediately, a subtle shift, like a held breath released.
She knows.
Good.
At lunchtime I feel the pull tugging my chest. I rise from my desk and move toward the front windows before I can second-guess myself.
Across the street, the coffee bar is busy. Midday traffic, steam fogging the glass, bodies clustered close together.
And then..
There she is.
Reza.
Seated near the window. Cappuccino in hand. Spine straight, chin lifted, eyes alert in a way that tells me she’s pretending not to wait for something.
She didn’t hide.
Of course she didn’t.
My wolf surges forward instantly, possessive and sharp.
- Mate.
- Easy, I warn.
- She’s close.
- I know, I tell him, I'm looking at her.
The bond hums, low, steady, unmistakable. Not distant. Not broken.
Just… strained.
She looks better than last night. Less brittle. Still guarded, but anchored enough to hold herself upright without effort.
Still angry.
Good. Anger means she’s standing.
Footsteps stop beside me.
I don’t need to look to know who it is.
Bethany.
Her presence registers like static against my senses, sharp perfume, controlled posture, interest held too carefully in check.
She follows my gaze.
I feel it the moment she sees Reza.
Her energy tightens.
“Oh,” Bethany says, softly. Too softly. “Her.”
I keep my eyes on the street. “Problem?”
“No,” she replies quickly. “Of course not.”
The lie sits between us.
Her jaw tightens. I can hear the restraint in her breathing, measured, practiced. She’s choosing her words carefully.
“She’s bold,” Bethany adds after a moment. “Sitting there like that.”
“She’s allowed,” I say flatly.
Bethany’s lips press together.
My wolf bristles.
- She wants what is ours.
- She wants what isn’t hers, I correct. And she knows it.
Bethany shifts her weight, angling herself closer than necessary. Not touching. Not crossing that line. Claiming space instead.
“She didn’t finish her rotation,” Bethany says lightly. “Interesting how that resolved itself.”
I finally turn my head enough to meet her gaze.
“Is it?”
Her eyes flicker, irritation flashing before she masks it. “I just meant… some of us finish what we start.”
The implication is clear.
I lean back against the window frame, voice cold. “Some of us know when to stop pushing someone who’s already taken a hit.”
Bethany stiffens.
She recovers quickly. “Of course. You’re very… protective.”
“Yes,” I agree. “I am.”
Silence snaps taut.
Across the street, Reza lifts her cup, takes a slow sip. Deliberate. Controlled.
Defiant.
The bond tightens.
She feels me watching.
Bethany notices.
Her nails dig lightly into her palm.
“You’re distracted,” she says.
“I’m observant.”
She scoffs quietly. “That’s one word for it.”
My wolf snarls, low and dangerous.
- She disrespects the bond.
- She disrespects boundaries, I answer internally. And she knows exactly where they are.
Bethany watches Reza for another long moment, eyes narrowing.
“She doesn’t belong here,” she says softly. Not asking. Declaring.
I turn fully now.
“That’s not your decision.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, heat flaring, jealousy barely contained.
“I’ve given years to this pack,” Bethany says. “I’ve earned a voice.”
“You’ve earned respect,” I correct. “Not ownership.”
The words land hard.
She inhales slowly, visibly forcing herself to calm.
“I’m just saying,” she murmurs, eyes sliding back to Reza, “some attachments cause instability.”
“Some interference does,” I reply.
Her mouth tightens.
She says nothing else.
Across the street, Reza shifts in her chair, glancing toward the office. Not directly at me, but close enough that the bond spikes sharply.
Her breath catches.
So does mine.
For half a second, instinct screams at me to cross the street. To close the distance. To anchor her.
My wolf pushes hard.
- Go.
- No, I answer quietly. Not yet.
Bethany notices my hesitation. Misreads it.
Hope flickers in her expression, quickly masked, but not fast enough.
She straightens. “You don’t owe her anything.”
I don’t respond.
Because if I speak, I will say something irreversible.
I step back from the window.
Bethany watches me go, eyes dark with frustration.
Across the street, Reza remains seated.
Waiting.
And for now, for her sake, not mine,
I let her.
- Writer
