There was a moment when the world seemed to hold its breath.
“You’re staring again,” Rowan said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned against the moss-covered post by the training field.
Sierra blinked, then quickly looked away. “No, I wasn’t.”
He chuckled under his breath. “You always say that. But your eyes give you away.”
Sierra clenched her jaw, gripping the leather strap of her training gauntlet tighter than necessary. “Maybe you should stop standing where I can see you, then.”
“Maybe you should stop looking.”
She turned to him then, sharply—too sharply. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” he asked innocently, pushing off the post and stepping toward her, his tone softer now. “Point out the obvious?”
“There’s nothing obvious between us,” she snapped, though her voice lacked bite. “There’s nothing, Rowan.”
But the way her breath hitched when he stood too close told another story.
He didn’t touch her. Just stood there, that unbearable distance of a few inches between them—close enough to feel the heat, the pull, but far enough to keep pretending it wasn’t real.
“You keep saying that,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “But every time we end up here, you don’t walk away.”
Sierra swallowed hard, heart hammering. “Because I’m an idiot.”
Rowan smiled faintly. “No. Because you’re honest.”
She laughed bitterly. “You don’t know me.”
“I know what your laugh sounds like when it’s real. I know you cover your scars with sarcasm. And I know that no matter how many times you tell yourself to stay away, you always come back.”
Silence.
The kind that carried weight.
The kind that made her chest feel tight.
“You make this sound like some kind of fate,” she muttered.
Rowan leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Isn’t it?”
Her hands trembled—just a little—as she stepped back. “You’re dangerous.”
“And you’re still here.”
She hated him for saying it. Hated him for being right.
Their meetings weren’t accidents anymore. The glances across the field, the way their fingers brushed in passing, the stupid, pointless conversations that always ended in stretched silences, lingering eye contact, and unsaid truths.
She should have pulled away.
She should have run.
But the threads between them were knotted tighter every time she didn’t.
And tonight… she didn’t even try.
But something inside her still wouldn’t shift. No matter how close they got, no matter how many times their fingers brushed, her wolf refused to come forward. She had tried. She had begged. She had stood before the full moon, hoping that this time would be different. But every time, her wolf stayed silent, hidden deep inside her, refusing to answer the call. The shame was starting to eat at her.
Was something wrong with her?
Was she broken?
She couldn’t answer that. Not yet.
Sierra paced the edge of the clearing, the moonlight filtering through the trees above. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what was wrong. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up—this quiet, unspoken connection between her and Rowan, this growing ache in her chest that she refused to acknowledge. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the fear of being broken beyond repair. The fear of not being able to live up to the pack’s expectations.
Her steps faltered as she felt the familiar presence behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. She could feel it—the quiet confidence in his stride, the way the air around him seemed to shift. She didn’t have to see him to know he was there. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, even before he spoke.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Rowan said, his voice soft but filled with an undeniable edge.
She didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes focused on the ground beneath her.
“I’m not,” she muttered, trying to sound more certain than she felt.
“I’m just—” She cut herself off, unsure how to finish. How could she explain what she was feeling? How could she put into words the frustration and disappointment she had for herself?
Rowan stepped closer, his presence surrounding her like a quiet storm.
“You don’t have to keep fighting this, you know.” His words were so gentle, yet they carried a weight that made her chest tighten. “You’re not broken.”
She let out a soft, bitter laugh. “If I’m not broken, then why won’t my wolf come?” Her voice cracked as the question escaped her lips, her frustration spilling over. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now that it was out there, it felt like a release.
Rowan didn’t speak at first, just stood behind her, his presence grounding her. She could feel his eyes on her, waiting for her to gather herself. The quiet tension stretched between them, and for the first time in a long while, Sierra didn’t feel like she was running from the truth. She wasn’t broken. She was just lost.
“You’re not broken, Sierra,” Rowan said again, this time stepping closer until he was just behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of him.
“Your wolf just needs time. Maybe… maybe you need time.” He paused, his voice dropping lower, softening.
“You’re not the only one with demons to face.”
His words struck her like a wave crashing against a rock. She wasn’t alone in this. She wasn’t the only one holding back, hiding parts of herself, running from what she was meant to become. She had never thought of it that way. She had always felt like an outsider—like the world had passed her by while she struggled to find her place.
Rowan’s hand brushed hers, the touch light but enough to make her breath catch in her throat. His fingers lingered just a moment longer than they should have, and for the briefest of seconds, the world around them seemed to stop. There was a spark between them, a pull that neither of them had acknowledged until now.
“I’m not rushing you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Take your time. But just know… you’re not alone in this.”
Sierra looked up at him then, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know how to put into words the mix of emotions swirling inside her. But as she looked into his eyes, the uncertainty that had gripped her for so long seemed to loosen, if only just a little.
She couldn’t lie. She couldn’t deny the connection, the pull, that was growing stronger between them.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel it. To acknowledge it.
“Maybe you’re right,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “Maybe I’m not broken.”
Rowan’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world had quieted down around them. He didn’t speak for a moment, just let the silence settle between them. Then, he stepped closer again, his hand brushing her hair back from her face, his touch gentle.
“Or maybe you’re just mine,” he said, his voice so low that it seemed to reverberate through her very soul.