CHAPTER TWO
Kael's POV
"You're a monster."
Her voice cracked when she said it, but the slap that followed was strong. I didn't flinch. I didn't stop her. I just stood there and let her spill her rage onto me, even though it burned more than claws ever could.
Eira had every right to hate me. Or at least she thought she did. That's what broke me the most. That she believed I was capable of such cruelty. That I'd ordered Ronan's firing, or worse... that I'd had a hand in what happened to him.
I hadn't. But how could she believe anything I said when her heart was shattered and I was the one holding the shards?
She screamed after she slapped me, clawing at the door even though it was already open. I wasn't keeping her prisoner—not anymore—but that didn't matter to her. In her eyes, I had become the cage.
Laxton found me in the corridor moments later. I must've looked like hell, standing there in the shadows with her voice echoing in my head.
"You alright, Alpha?"
"No," I said. I was too tired to lie.
He was my beta, my second-in-command, but more than that, he was my brother in arms. If anyone knew the cost of leadership, he did.
"She hit you?" he asked, eyes flicking toward the room.
I gave a tight nod.
"Maybe you deserved it."
"Yh, I deserved it."
Laxton crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "I assume you didn't fire Ronan."
"No. That wasn't me. I wouldn't do that."
"She doesn't know that."
"She doesn't believe that."
Silence stretched between us. I could hear her inside, pacing like a storm waiting to break. The pain in her footsteps mirrored mine.
"You love her," Laxton said.
"More than I have the right to."
He sighed. "Then tell her."
"She won't listen."
"Then show her."
My claws dug into my palms again. Blood welled beneath the nails, just like it had when we brought her back. My wolf howled inside me, torn between anger and grief.
"I need air," I muttered.
Laxton didn't stop me. He knew better. I shifted once I got past the northern wall, fur replacing flesh in a rush of fire. I ran through the woods like I was chasing the past. Or maybe trying to outrun it.
The forest didn't ask questions. It didn't judge. It just let me be. Trees blurred past me, scents flying by until I skidded to a stop near the eastern border—where the last blood trail had ended.
But there was no body.
Where Ronan should've been, there was only dried blood. No wolf. No corpse. Nothing.
I stood there, breathing hard.
"What the hell…?"
I shifted back to human, crouching, inspecting the leaves, the soil, every inch. There was no sign of a struggle, no pawprints. Just absence. As if someone had come quietly and taken him away.
I didn't call Laxton. I didn't call anyone.
If Ronan was alive… if someone had helped him... then Eira's grief was built on a lie. But if he was dead and someone took the body, that meant secrets. Dangerous ones.
I returned before dawn.
I brought her food.
She hadn't eaten. I knew because the untouched tray from yesterday still sat by the window.
She didn't look at me when I entered. Just stared at the floor, her eyes hollow.
"I didn't fire him," I said softly.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?
"I didn't hurt him, Eira. I didn't want him gone. But I couldn't watch him touch you and pretend it didn't break something inside me."
Her fists clenched. "Everything breaks with you."
I sat down across from her, ignoring the ache.
"Eat. Please."
She looked at the tray like it offended her.
"You keep saying you don't want to hurt me, Kael. But you do. You keep hurting me without even trying."
I swallowed hard. "Then I'll try harder."
"Why? Because you think we're bonded? Because you think fate means I belong to you?"
"Because I love you."
Her eyes snapped to mine. "You don't know what that means."
"Maybe not. But I'm trying. And I'll keep trying. Even if it kills me.
For the first time since we brought her back, she looked at me not with rage—but with something deeper. Pain. Real, unfiltered pain.
"Why didn't you stop them? Why didn't you fight for him?"
"Because I didn't know until it was too late. And by the time I did, you already hated me."
Her lip trembled. But she picked up the spoon. Ate a little. And didn't throw it back at me.
It wasn't forgiveness. But it was a start.
And I would take that, even if it was the smallest mercy the moon had to offer.
Eira's POV
The door clicked softly as he walked out, the quiet almost louder than his footsteps. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the space he'd left behind—like it might explain everything he never said.
The tray of food sat on the edge of the table, the warmth still clinging to it like a stubborn memory.
I didn't want to touch it.
But I did.
Not because I trusted him, or forgave him, or even knew what to feel anymore. I touched it because hunger is louder than pain sometimes. Louder than grief. Louder than hate.
And that scared me.
Because what if, deep down, I wasn't just starving for food?
What if I wanted to believe him?
I sat on the edge of the bed, eyes on the door, fork in hand. The food was simple. Familiar. I hated that it reminded me of a time when things were safe.
But everything safe had burned.
I ate slowly, chewing like it might stop my mind from racing. Then, out of nowhere, I heard voices outside.
Low. Urgent.
I moved without thinking, slipping out of the room and into the hall, feet silent on the floor. I followed the sound—Kael's voice first, then another—Laxton.
I stopped near the edge of the corridor, pressing myself against the cold wall.
"She still thinks I killed him," Kael said. His voice was quieter than I'd ever heard it. Tired.
Laxton made a sound between a sigh and a grunt. "She's grieving. And confused. Anyone would be."
"I told her I didn't fire the shot," Kael said. "But… how could she believe me?"
"She's not just angry, Kael. She's lost."
Kael paused. "So am I."
And then something changed in his voice. Something sharper. "I went back to the clearing."
Laxton stiffened. "Why?"
Kael hesitated. "I don't know. I thought maybe… maybe I could find peace. But the body—" His voice dropped even lower. "Ronan's body wasn't there."
My stomach turned cold.
Laxton didn't answer. I could hear the stillness in the silence.
"No blood," Kael added. "No sign of a struggle. It's like he vanished."
I stepped back. The world tilted under me, and I barely caught myself against the wall.
Gone?
Gone how?
Dead men don't walk away. And Ronan—he wouldn't have left without a fight. He wouldn't leave me like that.
I was shaking.
I hadn't realized I was until my breath caught in my throat and I felt my fingers curl into my sides.
I took another step, and the soft scuff of my foot caught Kael's attention.
He turned. His expression shifted instantly, like he was trying to build a wall in his face fast enough to hide behind it.
I stepped forward. "You weren't going to tell me?"
His jaw tightened. "I didn't know how."
Laxton glanced between us but said nothing. He looked uncomfortable, like he'd stumbled into a war he didn't want to fight.
"You didn't know how?" My voice cracked. "Or you didn't want to deal with what it meant?"
Kael didn't move. "Eira, I didn't—"
"No," I cut in, voice sharper. "You kept it to yourself. While I sat there thinking he was dead. While I ate the food you brought me like it was supposed to mean something. You knew something was wrong. You went back. And you still didn't tell me."
Kael swallowed hard. "I was trying to protect you."
"That's not your job," I snapped. "You don't get to decide what I can or can't handle."
He didn't respond.
"Do you even care?" I whispered.
The question hurt coming out.
Because part of me wasn't sure I wanted the answer.
Kael looked at me, and for once, I couldn't read him. There was something in his eyes—quiet, fractured, unsure.
"I don't know what I feel anymore," he said finally.
I blinked, stung.
And I hated how much that answer hurt.
Without another word, I turned and walked away.
This time, I didn't wait for the echo of his footsteps behind me.
Because I knew they wouldn't come.