Katrina’s POV
Adolphus and I walked hand in hand along the narrow, worn path that led through the trees. The forest around us was hushed, the evening air thick with the scent of pine and earth, broken only by the soft crunch of our boots on the trail.
A few kilometers out from the pack grounds, nestled in a quiet clearing, sat the small hut the Pack Doctor had lent us.
It wasn’t much, just a single room with a slanted roof and moss creeping up one wall, but it felt like a world apart. A brief reprieve from everything. From betrayal. From politics. From the aching weight of what we’d survived.
His hand in mine was steady, his fingers warm and sure as they wrapped around mine. The sensation grounded me.
There was something oddly comforting about being beside him like this, together, away from watchful eyes and whispered secrets. For a fragile moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
The door creaked softly as we stepped inside.
The space was dimly lit by the last light of day filtering through the shutters. Before I could take another step, Adolphus turned abruptly. His hands gripped my waist as he pulled me in, and then his lips were on mine, deep, sudden, hungry.
I gasped against his mouth, startled by the intensity, but my body responded instantly. I leaned into him, arms wrapping around his neck, heart thudding hard against my ribs. His mouth was warm, familiar, and demanding in a way that made the air feel thinner.
But just as quickly as it began, the kiss ended.
He pulled back with a sharp exhale, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark with something heavy. Trouble. Conflict.
I blinked up at him, chest still rising fast. “What’s wrong?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers pushing roughly through the strands. His jaw clenched before he answered, voice tight. “I need to go back.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. “Back where?”
“To the kingdom,” he said quietly, but his tone was resolute. “I need to return before Alpha and Cassandra get suspicious. I can’t let them know where I’ve been. I have to stay close… It’s the only way I can do what needs to be done.”
His words hit like stones, each one landing with weight. I stared at him, struggling to steady my breath. “And what about me?”
He stepped closer again, his hands cupping my face with a gentleness that cut through the hardness in his voice. “It’ll be safer for you if you stay here. I’ll come back for you, Katrina. I promise.”
My throat tightened. I bit down the lump rising fast. “When?”
His gaze held mine, unreadable. His thumb brushed my cheek in a slow stroke. “I don’t know,” he said. “But when I do… I want us to leave. Together. For good.”
A shiver slid down my spine at the sound of it. Together. He wasn’t just thinking about vengeance, about duty, he was thinking about us. My heart twisted in my chest.
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Why can’t we just go now? Find your pack. Hide.”
His lips pulled into a humorless line. “I’m not sure we can trust them. That pack… I was born there, but I never belonged. Not really.”
His voice held something close to regret. But also clarity. A decision he’d already made.
I saw relief flicker in his eyes when I didn’t push further. He leaned in again, kissing me slower this time. His lips moved against mine like he was trying to memorize the shape of us, softer, deliberate. My hands slid across his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath his skin.
When he finally broke the kiss, he didn’t move far. He pressed his lips gently to my forehead, lingering there.
“Stay here tonight,” he whispered. “Don’t leave until I come back. Please.”
I wanted to argue. To beg him to stay. But I could see the determination in his face, in every line of his body. There would be no changing his mind.
“Fine,” I breathed, the word brittle on my tongue.
He smiled, real this time. A flicker of warmth that softened his features. Then he turned and moved toward the small chest near the bed, gathering the few things he’d brought with him.
I sat on the edge of the mattress, silent, watching him. The way his muscles shifted as he moved. The set of his jaw as he focused. The quiet intensity in everything he did.
I committed it all to memory.
And then, just like that, he was gone.