Chapter 8 - Isla
1030 Words
The moment my feet touched the ground, I stepped back.
Fast.
Too fast.
Like distance might still mean something.
Like putting even a few inches between us would give me space to think, to breathe, to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do now.
It didn’t.
It never did.
The air felt different up here—heavier, quieter, controlled in a way that made my chest tighten, like even the walls understood who they belonged to.
The Alpha floor.
I hadn’t been here in years.
Not since before—
I shut the thought down before it could go any further.
Not now.
I couldn’t afford that right now.
I needed to stay focused. Needed to stay in control.
Even if everything around me was telling me I wasn’t.
I turned slightly, taking in the space despite myself. It wasn’t overly decorated. Nothing flashy. Just clean lines, dark tones, sharp edges—everything deliberate, everything placed with purpose.
Nothing unnecessary.
Nothing out of place.
It fit him.
That realization hit harder than it should have.
My gaze shifted back to Nico before I could stop it.
He hadn’t moved far. Still watching me.
Of course he was.
He always watched first.
Acted second.
That hadn’t changed.
“You can’t keep me here,” I said, forcing the words out before the silence stretched too long.
His expression didn’t shift.
“You’re here.”
That was it.
No explanation.
No argument.
Just fact.
Frustration flared sharp in my chest.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is.”
The calm way he said it made it worse.
I let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, pacing once across the room before turning back to him. “That’s not how this works.”
“It is now.”
My steps slowed.
Stopped.
Something about that landed differently.
Not louder.
Not harsher.
Just… certain.
I shook my head, more to myself than to him, like I could physically push the reality of this away if I refused to stand still long enough for it to settle.
“You don’t just decide I stay and that’s it.”
His gaze followed me easily, unbothered by the movement, like none of this was new to him.
“You don’t get to walk away from this, Isla.”
The way he said it wasn’t about the room.
Or the floor.
Or even the pack house.
My chest tightened.
“I already did,” I said, quieter now, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Years ago.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
I knew it the second it left my mouth.
Something shifted in him.
Subtle.
But there.
The air in the room felt colder because of it.
“That’s not happening again.”
The finality in his voice made something twist low in my stomach.
I swallowed, forcing myself to hold his gaze even when every instinct told me not to.
“I didn’t come back for you,” I said. “I came back for my grandmother. That’s it. And when this is over, I’m leaving.”
Silence stretched between us, tight and heavy, like something was being pulled too far in both directions.
Then—
“No.”
Quieter this time.
But sharper.
More dangerous.
My hands curled slightly at my sides.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said again, but it didn’t land the same way it had before.
“I already did.”
God, he was exhausting.
I dragged a hand through my hair, pacing again because standing still felt like giving in. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You can’t just—what, rewrite reality because it suits you?”
“I’m not rewriting anything.”
His voice didn’t rise.
Didn’t need to.
“I’m enforcing it.”
That—
That was worse.
“This isn’t fair,” I said before I could stop myself.
The second the words left, I almost winced.
Because fairness had nothing to do with this.
Not anymore.
Not after what I had done.
His gaze didn’t soften.
“Neither was what you did.”
The words hit exactly where they were meant to.
My throat tightened instantly, guilt cutting through everything else, sharp and familiar.
“I didn’t know—”
“I don’t care what you knew.”
That stopped me.
Completely.
Silence dropped between us again, heavier this time.
Because there was nothing I could say to that.
Nothing that would make it better.
Nothing that would make him believe me even if I tried.
My chest rose and fell unevenly as I turned away from him, my thoughts spiraling again, faster now, harder to hold onto.
The bond pulsed under my skin, a constant, unwelcome presence that refused to be ignored.
I moved toward the door without thinking.
Instinct.
Reaction.
I needed space.
Needed air.
Needed—
“Don’t.”
His voice cut through everything.
I froze.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t move.
But I felt it.
The shift behind me.
Closer.
Too close.
“If you try to leave again,” he said, quieter now, his voice no longer carrying across the room but settling just behind me—
My breath caught.
“—I won’t be as patient.”
A chill slid down my spine.
Not because he raised his voice.
Not because he threatened me.
But because he didn’t.
Because it wasn’t a threat.
It was a fact.
My fingers tightened at my sides, my pulse picking up again as anger flared—sharp, stubborn, refusing to fold into fear.
Slowly, I turned.
Just enough to look at him again.
To remind myself who I was dealing with
Someone who didn’t hesitate.
Someone who didn’t second guess.
Someone who wasn’t going to let this go just because I wanted him to.
My chest tightened, something heavier settling in behind the anger now.
Because this wasn’t about convincing him.
It wasn’t about arguing.
It wasn’t even about winning.
It was about the fact that for the first time since I stepped back into this town—
I wasn’t the one controlling how this ended.
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