Scottland – Morning After the Feast
The sun peeked over the eastern ridge, pale and golden, brushing light across the walls of the omega barracks. Scottland sat with her back against the farthest wall, knees drawn to her chest, her dress from the night before folded neatly beside her.
She hadn't slept.
She'd watched the moon crawl across the window, felt the bond tug and pull like an invisible string from somewhere far off. His scent still lingered in her nose—crisp pine, rain-washed earth, something rich and grounding.
Alpha Grant.
Her Alpha.
Fated.
The word made her breath tremble.
She should have felt terrified. Maybe she did. But more than anything, she felt… confused. Shaken. Exposed. Like someone had peeled open her chest and looked inside.
What would happen now?
She didn't know. But her wolf did. Her wolf curled against her ribs, quietly alert, ears up, no longer hiding. It recognized him. Trusted him.
Wanted him.
And for the first time, Scottland didn't fight it.
Alpha Grant – The Plan Begins
Grant stood outside the main house by mid-morning, a travel bag slung over one shoulder. Roger's pack had offered another "tour" of the grounds, and Grant had accepted—not because he cared about the sorry excuse for territory, but because it gave him a reason to move around.
To look for her.
Marcus walked beside him, speaking quietly. "The guards shift near the back kennels around noon. We'll have a window. She'll need to be close."
"She will be," Grant said. "She always serves in the afternoon. They'll send her."
Marcus gave him a look. "You're sure?"
Grant nodded. "I can feel it. She's close."
The bond wasn't fully formed—not until she accepted him. But the pull was there. Subtle. Deep. Like gravity.
They turned the corner of a crumbling stone path and passed the barracks. Grant slowed slightly. Just enough to glance through the fence.
And there—sitting in the shadows—was her.
He stopped.
Marcus didn't speak.
Scottland lifted her head. Her eyes met his through the wire slats. Soft blue. Tired. Curious.
He raised a hand, just a little. A quiet gesture. I see you.
She didn't flinch this time.
Instead, she tilted her head, and something like a question flickered across her face.
Then a door slammed behind her, and she vanished into the building.
But Grant smiled.
She was beginning to see him back.
Scottland – Unexpected Orders
"Kitchen," snapped the omega matron. "Now."
Scottland didn't argue. She tucked her hair back and slipped into the hallway, her feet silent against the cold floor. A faint knot of nervous energy tightened in her belly.
He would be there.
She felt it.
By the time she reached the rear of the house, her hands were already shaking. She picked up a tray of folded linens—an excuse to move through the halls—and stepped into the back corridor where alphas took private meetings and naps between negotiations.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then—his scent.
Before she could prepare herself, he appeared at the end of the corridor, alone, tall, calm, beautiful in the sharp light.
Scottland froze.
He approached slowly, hands open, non-threatening. "You don't have to run."
She didn't.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
He stopped a few feet away.
"I'm Grant," he said. "Alpha of the Gray's Pack. I know you've heard that part already."
She nodded, barely.
His voice dropped. "And you're Scottland."
Her breath hitched.
"I—" she whispered, then stopped.
He didn't press.
"I know you don't owe me trust. But I want you to know… I'm not going to let them keep you here."
Her eyes widened.
"You're mine," he said simply. "Fated. And I don't take that lightly."
Something in her chest cracked open.
And for the first time in years, she whispered her name aloud. "Scottland."
He smiled.
"I know."
Grant – The Rescue Plan
Back in the guest house, Grant paced.
"She spoke to me," he told Marcus. "She's waking up."
Marcus nodded. "Then we do it today."
Grant paused at the window. "We'll take the river path. Horses are staged at the far edge of the border. Once we cross, she's under Gray's Pack protection."
Marcus looked at him sharply. "Are you ready for what comes next?"
Grant didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Roger wouldn't let her go quietly.
But she wasn't his to keep.
Not anymore.
Scottland – The Escape
That evening, as dusk rolled over the hills, Scottland stood just outside the main kitchen, a folded apron in her arms and a heart pounding so loudly she could barely breathe.
She'd been told—quietly—by a kitchen omega to bring linens to the back door.
Nothing more.
But her wolf knew.
Grant was close.
She slipped through the servants' exit, wind whipping at her skirt, the scent of pine and damp earth pulling her like a tide. She moved through the shadows, her steps light, barely touching the dirt.
Then—arms around her.
But gentle.
Warm.
Safe.
"It's me," Grant's voice whispered into her hair.
She didn't scream. Didn't fight.
Instead, she collapsed into him, her body folding like it belonged there.
"We have to move fast," he said. "But I won't let go."
And he didn't.
Even as the alarm began to ring behind them.
Final Scene – Chapter End
The horses flew beneath them, hooves thundering across dirt and stone as Grant led them into the forest. Behind them, Roger's howls echoed into the trees—rage and fury and the promise of blood.
But they were too late.
Scottland clung to Grant's back, her arms wrapped tight around his waist, her face buried against his neck.
And as the trees parted, revealing the high ridge that marked the edge of Gray's Pack territory, her breath finally slowed.
They had crossed.
She was free.
And she was no longer alone.
Scottland – Through the Trees
Branches scraped her arms, her breath catching in her throat as the wind rushed past. Grant rode like the storm itself, his body a steady shield between her and the chaos behind them. The thunder of hoofbeats, the crashing of foliage, the rising roar of angry howls—they all faded beneath the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.
Her arms clung tighter to his waist.
Her wolf didn't cower this time. She listened. She trusted.
This Alpha—her Alpha—wasn't a dream or fantasy. He was real. And he was fighting to get her home.
Home.
The word didn't belong to the Roger Pack anymore.
It belonged to him.
Her throat tightened with unfamiliar emotion.
Grant's voice reached her, low and urgent against the wind. "Just a little farther. You're doing good."
She didn't answer out loud.
But she pressed her cheek closer to his back, and that was enough.
Grant – The Border Line
The edge of Gray's Pack territory shimmered like a veil ahead, the scent markers clear in the soil and trees. His pack would be waiting—he'd made sure of it. If Roger dared chase them over the line, it would be war.
But so far, the howls had stopped just short of the crest.
Grant slowed the horse as they reached a high ridge, the terrain opening to rolling hills and the silver river that marked the border.
He turned slightly, feeling her weight still pressed to his back.
"We're almost there," he said gently. "You'll be safe now."
Scottland lifted her head. Her face was pale, windblown, streaked with dust and fear—but her eyes, those blue eyes, held something steadier than panic.
"I'm not going back," she whispered.
It wasn't a question.
Grant reached back, touching her hand where it gripped his side. "Never."
Scottland – Her First Step
He helped her down from the saddle, his hands careful, warm, solid. Her legs wobbled when they hit the earth, and he steadied her without hesitation, letting her take her time.
The earth beneath her feet felt different on this side of the line.
Richer. Calmer.
Alive.
"You're safe," he said again, watching her carefully.
She looked up at him, unsure what to say. So many years she'd spent silenced, punished for speaking, punished for existing. She didn't know how to respond to kindness.
But her wolf nudged her forward.
So Scottland took a step. One foot, then another. Across the line. Into Gray's Pack land.
It wasn't just a change in territory.
It was a change in everything.
Final Scene Addition – A Promise
Later, once they'd reached the Gray Pack's outer settlement, Grant stood beside her in front of a roaring hearth in a quiet house near the woods. She hadn't said much on the ride, but she'd never let go of his arm.
He didn't let go either.
Now, in the soft glow of firelight, he finally asked, "Can I stay near you tonight?"
Her cheeks turned pink, but she nodded.
He led her to a wide chair beside the fire, and she curled up in it, small and unsure. He sat across from her—not too close, but not far. The bond between them stretched like a thread of silver light in the air.
"You don't have to rush anything," he said. "Not the bond. Not this. You get to heal at your own pace."
Scottland watched him, wide-eyed.
"No one's going to hurt you here," he added.
She didn't answer right away.
Then softly, like the petals of a closing flower, she whispered, "Thank you… for coming back for me."
Grant swallowed hard. "I was always going to find you."
And when she drifted to sleep in the firelight, her breathing soft and peaceful, he stayed right where he was.
Watching over her.
Like he always would.