WHAT HE LOST
1000 Words
Rowan hadn’t slept.
Not properly.
Not since the Blood Moon.
At first, he blamed the pressure of leadership. The weight of command. The endless responsibilities that came with being Alpha of the Silver Fang Pack.
That was the logical explanation.
The acceptable one.
But deep down…
He knew that wasn’t the truth.
---
The room was dark, but not silent.
Nothing was silent anymore.
Even the night seemed restless.
The wind brushed against the windows with a low, whispering sound, like something trying to get in… or get out.
Rowan sat at the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together.
Too tightly.
His knuckles had gone white.
He didn’t notice.
---
There it was again.
That feeling.
Sharp.
Unwelcome.
Persistent.
---
It started as a dull ache days ago.
Something easy to ignore.
A discomfort he could dismiss.
But now…
It had grown into something else.
Something deeper.
Something that didn’t just sit in his chest—
It clawed at it.
---
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax.
“You’re fine,” he muttered under his breath.
The words sounded empty.
Even to him.
---
His wolf shifted inside him.
Restless.
Uncooperative.
Unsettled.
It had been like this for days.
No—
Since that night.
---
Rowan clenched his jaw.
“Control yourself,” he snapped inwardly.
Silence answered him.
That was new.
---
His wolf had never been silent before.
It had always been there.
Strong.
Proud.
Dominant.
A reflection of everything he was.
Everything he believed himself to be.
---
Now?
It felt distant.
Disconnected.
Almost… resentful.
---
A sharp pulse of pain hit his chest.
Rowan inhaled sharply, his hand flying to his sternum as his fingers pressed hard against the ache.
“What is this?” he growled.
He knew what it was.
He just refused to say it.
---
“Elara…”
The name slipped out before he could stop it.
The moment it did—
Everything went still.
---
Rowan froze.
His expression darkened instantly.
“No.”
He pushed himself to his feet, pacing the room with restless energy.
“No, we’re not doing this.”
His voice was low.
Controlled.
But it cracked slightly at the edges.
---
She was an Omega.
Weak.
Insignificant.
A mistake.
---
That was what he told himself.
That was what he had believed when he stood before the entire pack… when he looked her in the eyes… and rejected her without hesitation.
Without regret.
---
So why—
Why was her name still in his mouth?
---
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.
“She’s gone.”
And yet…
That word didn’t sit right either.
Gone.
It felt incomplete.
---
Because she wasn’t just gone.
She had been taken.
---
The thought came uninvited.
Unwanted.
And it hit harder than anything else.
---
Rowan’s steps slowed.
Then stopped.
His chest tightened.
---
Taken.
---
His jaw clenched.
“No,” he said again, firmer this time.
“It doesn’t matter who took her.”
It shouldn’t matter.
---
But it did.
---
The memory surfaced without warning.
Her standing there.
Small.
Trembling.
But still looking at him.
Still hoping.
Still—
Loyal.
---
She had always been like that.
Quiet.
Obedient.
Present.
---
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Serving.
Always nearby.
Always useful.
Always… his.
---
The thought came suddenly.
Sharply.
Possessively.
---
Rowan stilled.
His breath slowed.
Something twisted in his chest.
Dark.
Uncomfortable.
Unfamiliar.
---
A knock sounded at the door.
Sharp.
Breaking through the silence.
---
Rowan didn’t respond.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t care.
---
The door opened anyway.
Mireya stepped inside.
Graceful.
Controlled.
Every movement precise.
Every expression calculated.
“You’re awake,” she said softly.
Not surprised.
Not concerned.
Just… observing.
Rowan didn’t look at her.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Mireya closed the door behind her.
The soft click echoed louder than it should have.
“That’s becoming a habit,” she said, walking further into the room.
Her heels made quiet sounds against the floor.
Steady.
Confident.
Annoying.
Rowan exhaled slowly.
“I said I’m fine.”
She stopped a few steps away from him.
Studying him.
Taking everything in.
The tension.
The restlessness.
The way he avoided her gaze.
“You’re not,” she said simply.
Silence.
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“I don’t need this right now.”
Mireya tilted her head slightly.
“You need to acknowledge it.”
His eyes snapped to hers.
Sharp.
Warning.
“Don’t.”
But she didn’t stop.
Of course she didn’t.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” she said.
Soft.
But precise.
The air shifted instantly.
Rowan’s expression darkened.
“I said don’t talk about her.”
But the damage was already done.
Because now—
She was in the room.
Not physically.
But mentally.
Emotionally.
Present.
Mireya’s lips curved slightly.
Not into a smile.
Something colder.
“You’re feeling it,” she continued.
Rowan laughed.
Short.
Harsh.
Empty.
“It’s backlash,” he said.
“It’ll pass.”
Lie.
Mireya stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
“Is that what it feels like?” she asked.
Rowan didn’t answer.
Because the pain in his chest flared again.
Sharper this time.
More aggressive.
He inhaled sharply.
His control slipping—
Just slightly.
And Mireya saw it.
Her expression didn’t change.
But her eyes did.
Because now she knew.
This wasn’t fading.
This was beginning.
And for the first time—
Rowan felt something he hadn’t expected.
Not regret.
Not guilt.
Something far worse.
He closed his eyes briefly.
And the image came back.
Uninvited.
Unwanted.
Unavoidable.
Elara.
Not standing before him.
Not broken.
Not rejected.
But somewhere else.
With someone else.
And suddenly—
The ache in his chest wasn’t just pain anymore.
It was something darker.
Something dangerous.
Something that didn’t belong to logic or pride.
Something that whispered quietly…
Relentlessly…
You lost her.
Rowan’s eyes snapped open.
And for the first time—
He didn’t deny it.
- Writer
