His Savage Devotion

Chapter 5

Gavin

I found Dad in his office, the door half-open, the scent of dark roast coffee and leather-bound books clinging to the air like always. He was hunched over the map table, tracing pack boundaries with his finger like he’d done since I was a kid.

“Got a minute?” I asked, knocking anyway.

He glanced up, expression unreadable. “For you? Always.”

I stepped in, closing the door behind me. The quiet settled between us like fog. I didn’t bother sitting. I couldn’t keep still.

“She said yes.”

His brows rose just a fraction. “To the proposal?”

I nodded. “She’s mine now.”

He didn’t say anything right away. He just leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, staring at me with those sharp Alpha eyes that missed nothing. It was the same look he gave enemies and emissaries alike—measured, quiet, full of weight.

Finally, he said, “You sure about that?”

I froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m asking,” he said carefully, “if you’re prepared for the difference between chosen and fated. It’s not the same.”

I hated that word. Fated. Like a curse pretending to be a blessing. “We’ve been best friends since we were kids. She knows me better than anyone. I don’t need a goddess to tell me she’s mine.”

Dad studied me a long moment. “I don’t disagree. Chosen mates are built on love, on commitment. They’re tested over time. Fated bonds… they’re chemical. Spiritual. Involuntary. Sometimes they’re beautiful. Sometimes they burn everything down.”

I clenched my jaw. “You and Mom are chosen.”

“Yes,” he said, and there was something in the way he said it—soft, distant. “And we worked damn hard to build what we have. It’s not always been easy, but it’s ours.”

I crossed my arms. “So what, you think she’s fated to someone else?”

“I think,” he said slowly, “that something has shifted. I think you noticed that too.”

My gut twisted. I hated how well he could read me. “She almost died, Dad.”

“And yet,” he added, voice firm, “we still don’t know how she got poisoned with wolfsbane."

I looked away.

“I’m not saying she isn’t meant to be with you,” he went on. “I’m saying... you need to know what you’re walking into. You can’t lead this pack if you’re blind to your own mate’s struggles.”

I took a breath, swallowed hard. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” he said. “That’s why this next part’s going to be hard.”

I frowned. “What part?”

“You leave in a week.”

My heart dropped. “What?”

“Alpha training,” he said. “You turn twenty five in three months. You’re scheduled to meet with the Alphas of the surrounding five territories. You’ll be with them for twelve weeks. You knew this was coming.”

I had, but it felt like a distant future problem—something older Gavin would handle. Not now. Not when Taryn had just said yes. Not when something was clearly still happening with her.

“She needs me here,” I said, voice low. “We still don’t know what’s going on with her. What if it happens again?”

“You don’t trust me to protect her?” His tone sharpened, just enough to sting.

“I didn’t say that.”

He stood. Taller than me, broader than me, older and harder in every way. I’d never felt small around my father until that moment.

“This is part of being Alpha, son,” he said. “You don’t get to wait until everything’s perfect to step up. Sometimes you leave when it’s hard. Sometimes you have to trust your people. Your mate.”

I stared at him, jaw tight, emotions tangled between anger and shame and dread. “Does she know?”

“I wanted to talk to you first,” he said. “You should be the one to tell her.”

I nodded, fists curling at my sides. “I’ll go,” I said, finally. “But the second I get back, we’re setting a date.”

Dad smiled faintly, like that answer surprised him. “Good. Then start thinking about what kind of Alpha you want to be.”

Third Person

Dean stood in the kitchen, watching steam curl from his mug of black coffee. The conversation with Gavin had left his chest tight and his thoughts unsettled.

Stephanie moved through the kitchen with practiced ease, barefoot, her blonde hair twisted into a messy braid. She poured tea into a ceramic cup, added honey without tasting, and leaned back against the counter.

“You told him?” she asked, voice still thick with sleep.

Dean nodded, taking a slow sip. “He’s not happy.”

“He wouldn’t be.” She watched him over the rim of her mug. “Neither would I, if I’d just gotten engaged and was told I had to disappear for three months.”

He said nothing. Just stared out the window as the morning fog curled around the treetops.

Stephanie waited a beat, then added, “You’re worried.”

It wasn’t a question.

He looked over at her. “Wouldn’t you be?”

She shrugged. “About what, exactly? Gavin leaving? Or the fact that his mate might be bonded to someone else?”

His jaw tightened. “There’s no proof of that.”

“Not yet.” She took a sip of tea. “But it would explain a few things.”

He turned, resting one hand on the back of a chair. “You think she’s fated to the Erix boy.”

“I think something happened to her that shouldn’t have been possible. And if you want to rule out fated mates, you’ll need a better explanation than ‘coincidence.’”

Dean scowled. “She had no contact with him. None. I checked every record, every report. They were never near each other.”

“You don’t have to meet your mate for the bond to exist,” she said quietly. “Sometimes the soul knows before the body does.”

He hated when she got like this—mystical, vague, soft around the edges. He needed facts. Patterns. Strategy. Not faith.

“I’ve seen this before,” she added. “Two mates. One injured. The other developed matching symptoms. A girl at Luna academy collapsed after her fated died in a rogue attack. Internal bleeding. No wounds. Just... broke apart.”

Dean rubbed his temples. “That’s anecdotal. Not conclusive.”

“But it’s happened,” she insisted. “You can’t logic your way around that.”

He looked at her—really looked. “You believe Taryn’s bonded to him.”

“I believe something happened between them. Whether she understands it or not.” She hesitated, then softened. “She loves Gavin. That’s real. That matters too.”

“Love doesn’t always win,” Dean said, quieter now.

Stephanie moved to stand beside him. “Maybe not. But it should count for something.”

He exhaled, slow and tired. “If she’s fated to that boy… it could destabilize everything. Eclipse Moon has no territory. No structure. No alliances. If she leaves Gavin for him—”

“She hasn’t,” Stephanie cut in. “She accepted Gavin’s proposal. She’s choosing him.”

“For now,” Dean muttered.

Stephanie reached out, fingers curling gently over his. “Maybe we just… support them. Let them find their own way.”

Dean didn’t answer. Just stared at the fog and thought of all the things that could go wrong when wolves followed their hearts instead of their orders.

Taryn

The hospital room was quiet, too quiet. The kind that makes you feel like you're the only person left in the world.

Outside the window, the sun was still low, painting gold across the glass. I could hear the faint beeping of my heart monitor, the steady hum of fluorescent lights, and the occasional scuff of nurses down the hall. But in here? Just me. Just my thoughts. Just the dull ache in my side where the wolfsbane still hadn’t finished working its way out.

I reached for the pitcher of water at my bedside, only to wince halfway through the motion. My muscles were tight, sore in a way that went deeper than just injury. Like something inside me was shifting. Or waiting.

A knock at the door pulled me from the spiral.

“Come in,” I called, even though I already knew who it was.

Gavin stepped inside like he always did—casual, confident, with that soft smile he only ever gave me. His brown hair was still a mess, like he’d run a hand through it one too many times, and his hoodie looked slept in. I didn’t care. Seeing him always made my chest feel a little lighter.

He held a paper bag in one hand and a takeaway coffee in the other. “I brought contraband,” he said with a wink.

I smiled. “Please tell me it’s not hospital oatmeal.”

He came to sit on the edge of the bed, handing me the bag first. “Apple muffin from that place you like. And—” He held up the coffee like a trophy. “No foam latte, two pumps of vanilla, extra cinnamon.”

“You’re going to make the nurses hate you.”

“Worth it.”

I took a bite of the muffin, chewing slowly while watching him. He looked nervous. Gavin didn’t get nervous. Not really. Not unless—

“You’re not just here to feed me,” I said.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Caught me.”

“What is it?”

He sighed, setting the coffee down. “There’s something I have to tell you. Something I should’ve brought up sooner, but with everything that happened—”

“Gavin.”

He looked at me. Brown eyes. Familiar. Safe. “I’m leaving.”

My stomach dipped. “What?”

“Alpha training,” he said. “Three months. I leave next week.”

I blinked. “You’re serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” he said quickly. “Believe me. I fought it. I told my dad I wanted to stay—especially with you still recovering—but this has been scheduled for a year. It's how every future Alpha meets with the other packs, builds trust before we take over.”

I stared at him, muffin forgotten in my lap. “Three months?”

“I know.” He leaned in, brushing his fingers gently over mine. “It’s too long. I don’t want to go. I just—this is part of being Alpha, and I want to be ready when it’s time. For us.”

I wanted to say don’t go. I wanted to say stay here, with me. But I didn’t. Because I knew what this meant to him. To our future.

Instead, I said, “You have to go.”

He blinked. “You’re not mad?”

I shook my head. “I’m... not thrilled. But if you’re going to be Alpha, this is part of it. I knew what I was signing up for when I said yes.”

He exhaled, visibly relieved, and leaned down to press a kiss to my forehead. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I just want you to come back in one piece.”

“I will.” His hand cupped my cheek. “And when I do, we’ll set a date. Make it official.”

His words should’ve made me feel warm. Secure. But somewhere deep inside, something else stirred. Not doubt exactly—something closer to dread. Or inevitability.

And for a brief second, I swore I felt Stella press against my skin, quiet but watchful.

As if she wasn’t so sure.