“Are you hiding from me, Abigail?” Callan’s voice came from behind her, low and edged with frustration.
Abigail straightened her spine but didn’t turn around. She stood in the palace gardens, her hands buried in the lavender she’d been collecting. The moonlight painted everything silver, but her mood was anything but calm.
“I’m not hiding,” she said flatly. “I’m working.”
“Convenient,” Callan muttered as he stepped closer, his shadow stretching over her. “You’ve been avoiding me since last night. Admit it.”
Finally, Abigail spun around, her green eyes blazing with anger. “Avoiding you? Why would I do that? It’s not like I have a thousand other things to worry about besides the mighty Alpha King.”
Callan’s jaw ticked, but his golden eyes softened. “You’re avoiding me because you’re afraid of the bond,” he said evenly. “You feel it, Abigail. The pull. It’s getting stronger, and it’s only a matter of time before you stop running.”
Her chest tightened at his words, but she refused to let him see it. “I’m not running. I’m choosing. Something you don’t seem to understand. I don’t have to give in to this bond, Callan. Neither do you.”
Callan stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “And where has fighting it gotten us? It’s tearing me apart, and you know it’s doing the same to you.”
Abigail opened her mouth to retort, but a voice interrupted them.
“Well, this is cozy.”
Her stomach dropped as she turned toward the voice. Luke stood at the edge of the garden, leaning casually against a tree. His amber eyes sparkled with amusement, but his smirk was laced with something deeper—something almost sad.
“Luke?” Abigail’s voice carried surprise and irritation in equal measure.
“Abigail,” Luke said smoothly, stepping into the light. “You’re a hard woman to track down.”
Callan immediately moved to stand between them, his golden eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?” he growled, his tone low and threatening.
Luke raised his hands, his smirk unfaltering. “Relax, Your Majesty. I’m not here to challenge you. I came to talk to Abigail.”
Callan’s wolf bristled visibly beneath his skin. “You don’t have any business with her.”
“Actually, I do,” Luke said, his gaze flicking to Abigail. “The rogues are regrouping. They’re planning something big, and you’re at the center of it.”
Abigail’s brow furrowed. “Me? What are you talking about?”
Luke’s smirk faded, his expression turning serious. “They’re after you, Abigail. You’ve disrupted the balance—the natural order of things. The Moon Goddess isn’t exactly happy, and the rogues are taking advantage of the chaos.”
Callan let out a low growl, stepping forward. “She’s under my protection. If they come for her, they’ll regret it.”
Luke tilted his head, his smirk returning faintly. “And yet they’re still coming, aren’t they? You can’t be everywhere at once, Callan. Which is why I’m here.”
Abigail crossed her arms, glaring at him. “And what exactly are you offering, Luke?”
“Help,” Luke said simply. “I don’t want to see you hurt, Abigail. You deserve better than this.”
Callan barked out a harsh laugh. “Help? From you? You rejected her, remember? You don’t get to come back here and act like you care.”
Luke’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I made a mistake. One I’ve regretted every day since. But this isn’t about me—it’s about her.”
Abigail raised a hand, her patience wearing thin. “Enough. Both of you.” She turned to Luke, her voice firm. “You’ve said your piece. Now go.”
Luke hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Be careful, Abigail,” he said softly.
As he turned to leave, Callan grabbed his arm, his voice low and menacing. “If I catch you anywhere near her again, Luke, I’ll make you regret it.”
Luke pulled free, his smirk returning. “Careful, Callan. You wouldn’t want to scare her off with all that possessiveness.”