Chapter 16- What Distance Sounds Like
1148 Words
The pain didn’t come gently.
It tore through Mikaela like something snapping deep in her chest, sharp enough that she gasped and stumbled, fingers scraping against stone as her knees nearly gave out. Her wolf recoiled inside her, whimpering in panic.
Mate—too far.
“I know,” she whispered, breath shaking. “I know.”
Her phone was already in her hand.
Rhys.
The call rang once. Twice.
It connected.
Relief crashed through her so hard it made her dizzy. “Rhys,” she breathed. “It hurts. I—I think something’s wrong.”
There was a pause on the other end.
Then his voice came through—flat. Controlled.
“You’ll adjust.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“This happens when bonds form too fast,” Rhys said evenly. “The distance will settle it.”
“That’s not true,” she whispered. “You feel it too. I know you do.”
Silence.
Then, colder—“You’re letting it get to you.”
The words struck harder than the pain.
“M—maybe I could come with you,” Mikaela said quickly, desperation creeping in. “Or you could come back. Just for a little while. Please.”
“No,” Rhys said without hesitation.
Her chest tightened painfully. “Rhys—”
“You need to stop,” he cut in. “This is inconvenient, not tragic.”
Her wolf howled in shock.
“Inconvenient?” she repeated, voice breaking. “You said—”
“I said what felt right at the time,” he replied coolly. “Things change.”
The bond flared violently, burning hot with rejection.
Mikaela pressed her hand to her chest, tears blurring her vision. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” Rhys said. “This bond doesn’t dictate my decisions.”
The lie tasted bitter even to him.
“So that’s it?” she whispered. “You’re just… done?”
“Yes.”
The single word shattered her.
“I can’t breathe,” she said faintly. “My wolf—she’s—”
“That’s your problem,” Rhys replied. “You should speak to your healers.”
Her knees finally gave out, and she slid down the wall, phone clutched in shaking fingers.
“You don’t feel anything?” she asked quietly. “Not even a little?”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then—“No.”
The bond screamed.
Something inside Mikaela went terrifyingly still.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Rhys ended the call.
He stood in the forest for several seconds after, staring at the blank screen, jaw locked so tightly it ached. His hands trembled—not from pain, but from the restraint it took to stay still.
The bond surged in furious retaliation, pain crashing into him hard enough that he staggered.
He welcomed it.
Better that than turning back.
Back in Crescent Moon, Mikaela curled in on herself on the cold stone floor, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as her wolf went unnaturally quiet.
Not broken.
Just… withdrawn.
Fate didn’t snap.
It didn’t scream.
It waited.
Mikaela didn’t leave the healer’s wing for two days.
Not really.
Her body went through the motions—checking vitals, changing dressings, following her father’s quiet instructions—but something vital had gone dim behind her eyes. Her wolf stayed curled deep inside her, unnervingly silent.
Ronan noticed.
He always did.
He found her just after dusk on the third night, standing alone on the balcony outside the infirmary, staring at the forest beyond the pack walls. The moonlight painted her skin pale, almost fragile.
“You’re working too much,” Ronan said gently.
Mikaela didn’t turn. “People are still recovering.”
“They are,” he agreed. “But you are not.”
Silence stretched between them.
Ronan stepped closer—not into her space, but near enough to feel intentional. “Your bond backlash was severe,” he said quietly. “You should have been resting.”
Her fingers tightened on the railing. “It doesn’t matter.”
Ronan watched her for a moment, then spoke carefully. “He left without explanation.”
She flinched.
“He made his position very clear,” Ronan continued. “And I won’t pretend I didn’t expect it.”
Mikaela finally looked at him, eyes dull with exhaustion. “Why are you here, Ronan?”
He met her gaze steadily. “Because you’re hurting. And because someone needs to protect you.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Protect me from what?”
“From a bond that’s already failing you,” Ronan said softly.
Her wolf stirred uneasily.
“He dismissed you,” Ronan went on. “Publicly. Coldly. Whatever feelings existed, he chose power over you.”
“That’s not—” Mikaela stopped herself. Her throat tightened. “That’s not what he said before.”
“But it is what he did,” Ronan replied. “Actions matter more than fate.”
She looked away.
Ronan lowered his voice. “Do you know what happens to wolves whose mates reject them?”
Her breath hitched.
“They fracture,” he said calmly. “Their wolves retreat. Sometimes permanently. You’ve already felt the beginning of that.”
Her chest ached.
“I would never let that happen to you,” Ronan said. “Not here. Not under my watch.”
She studied his face—so familiar, so steady. A leader her pack trusted. A man who had never raised his voice to her, never made demands.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
“I’m saying you don’t have to suffer alone,” Ronan replied. “You don’t have to cling to a bond that’s already been abandoned.”
The word cut.
“I can offer you stability,” he continued. “Protection. A future that doesn’t leave you shattered every time someone chooses differently.”
Mikaela swallowed. “At what cost?”
Ronan hesitated just long enough to seem sincere. “Nothing you don’t choose.”
He reached out—not touching her, but close enough that she could feel his warmth.
“Stay close to me,” he said. “Lean on Crescent Moon. Let us help you heal.”
Her wolf whimpered faintly.
“And if I do?” Mikaela asked.
Ronan’s eyes softened. “Then no one will ever be able to hurt you like that again.”
The moon slid higher above them, silver and silent.
Mikaela looked back out at the forest, where her bond felt distant—cold, unresponsive.
“I just want the pain to stop,” she whispered.
Ronan nodded. “Then let me make it stop.”
Behind his calm expression, something sharp flickered—satisfaction, ambition, resolve.
And far away, across borders and command and silence, the bond trembled.
- Writer
