Chapter Thirteen: Fated Near Miss
1045 Words
Clover
The wind swept through the park below the penthouse, brushing softly against Clover’s cheeks as she wandered the quiet path lined with bare trees. She pulled her hoodie tighter, not for warmth—her wolf blood made her resistant to the cold—but for comfort. Her steps were slow, thoughtful, each one echoing her racing mind.
Akira was quiet too, but not absent. They’d been talking, off and on, since the moment Clover stormed out to get air.
“We should’ve known something was wrong that night,” Akira murmured.
Clover nodded. “I felt it. That heaviness, that sudden silence in my chest… I didn’t understand it then. But now… it all makes sense.”
She hadn’t officially severed her bond to Crimson Hollow. Somewhere deep down, she hadn’t been ready to let it go. Maybe it was foolish hope, maybe it was denial—but she had believed, even after all that happened, that she could return one day. That the pack could be saved.
Now, it was gone.
The rogues had taken everything.
And Beta Michael… her eyes stung at the thought. Loyal, protective Michael. She could still remember his bear-like hugs and sarcastic laugh. He was like an uncle to her, just like how Gamma Dorian and Ryker were. And now, he was just… gone.
A breeze tugged at her hair, cutting through her thoughts—and that’s when she caught it.
The scent.
Warm cedarwood. Crisp mountain air. A hint of something earthy and electric all at once. Her heart stopped. Then stuttered.
“Akira…” she whispered.
“Mate,” her wolf breathed, almost reverently. “Find him.”
Clover didn’t hesitate. Her legs moved before her brain could catch up. She followed the scent, weaving between trees, stepping over benches and broken branches, her pulse pounding in her throat.
“Okay,” she whispered back, “I’m going.”
The scent grew stronger. She turned a corner and caught sight of a glowing convenience store sign—7/11. Her wolf practically yipped in joy. Clover approached, eyes scanning the entrance, heart thudding with hope and desperation.
But when she reached the door—
The scent was gone.
She froze, stepping forward and inhaling deeply. Nothing. Just the faint trail of where it had been. It had faded too quickly.
Akira whimpered. “No… where is he?”
Clover spun around, trying to retrace her steps, trying to find it again. But it was like the wind had stolen it away.
“Maybe it wasn’t time yet,” she whispered. “Maybe the Moon Goddess is still preparing us.”
“We missed him,” Akira said quietly, mournfully.
“I know,” Clover replied, voice thick with emotion.
She lingered a moment longer, then turned and slowly began walking back toward the penthouse. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pushed her hair behind her ear. Her mind kept replaying that feeling—the bond snapping to attention for a split second, only to vanish again.
Whoever he was… she had been so close.
⸻
Ashton
The door to the 7/11 swung shut behind him as Beta Ashton stepped into the cool night air. The city was quieter than usual, and a light wind rolled past him, ruffling his hair.
“Chilly night,” he muttered to himself, out of habit more than necessity. Wolves didn’t feel cold the same way humans did, but it was a phrase that made him feel grounded among them.
He adjusted the paper bag in his hand—just snacks, some water, and a bar of chocolate. It was his last night in this city. In the morning, he’d be heading back to his pack. Back home.
Home, where his brother, Alpha Carter, and Luna Elle were still adjusting to life with baby Lucian. Ashton couldn’t wait to see his tiny nephew again. He’d been the first to hold him after Carter. Even as Beta, nothing had ever made him feel more honored.
He was nearly back at the hotel when a sudden scent hit him.
It stopped him cold.
Faint, fleeting… but unmistakable.
Mate.
Ashton’s wolf surged forward instantly, ears perked and alert. “She’s close.”
He whipped around, scanning the street behind him, but saw nothing. Only the dim glow of the 7/11 sign, a few passing cars in the distance, and the faint sound of wind.
He inhaled again, sharper this time. It was there—but barely. A trace. Like someone had been there moments ago, and then vanished into the night.
His heart thudded painfully.
Could it really be?
“Where are you?” he whispered, stepping toward the street again, trying to follow the scent. But the breeze had shifted. It was gone.
His wolf whimpered softly. “She was just here.”
“I know,” Ashton replied, fingers tightening around the plastic bag in his hand.
He waited a few minutes longer, just in case. But the moment had passed.
Eventually, with a sigh, he turned back toward the hotel. When he entered his room, he locked the door behind him, tossed the snacks aside, and sat on the bed heavily.
He reached for the hoodie—the same one he’d been carrying since the day he found it at the border of a long-forgotten trail. It was dark grey, soft, and worn in. He had washed it, but her scent had lingered. He’d carried it with him through every mission, every trip, every night he slept alone.
He buried his face in it now, inhaling slowly. His wolf calmed a little.
“One day,” he murmured, “we’ll find her.”
They hadn’t even met yet. But he already missed her.
⸻
Clover
Back at the penthouse, Clover resumed packing with slow hands, her mind far away. Ryker and Dorian were elsewhere, giving her space after the news of the attack. She appreciated it.
But her thoughts were elsewhere.
With him.
Whoever he was.
The mate she hadn’t met but already yearned for.
She touched her chest, right over her heart. “Soon,” she whispered. “We’ll find each other.”
She didn’t know how she knew. But she did.
Somewhere out there… he was thinking the same thing.
- Writer
