Chapter 25 — Ethan
Ineed to find Rhiannon. Maybe she’s gone back to her quarters.
The guards’ words continue to echo in my head as I climb the stairs to her room, but I shove them aside.
Light spills through the narrow corridor windows, painting golden rectangles across the stone floor.
Through the partially open door, I spot Rhiannon at her desk.
I knock, hoping the comforting sound of her voice will chase away the doubt eating me alive.
“Come in.”
She sits at her desk, thumbing through a stack of papers that appear to be guard reports. Her hair falls in a dark curtain around her face, and she doesn’t look up when I enter.
“I hope you learned more from the seers than I did with Dr. Olcan.” My hand reaches for the door handle, ready to close it behind me like I always do, but her voice stops me.
“Leave it open.”
The sharpness in her tone sets me on edge immediately.
I freeze, hand still on the handle, like I’m in trouble and reporting to the principal’s office in high school.
The hallway draft blows in behind me, carrying the scent of cold stone and torch flames, reminding us both that the world outside this room still exists.
She looks up at me, but her golden-brown eyes dart away the moment they connect with mine, and she goes back to concentrating on her reports.
I try to bring some levity to the situation. “You know, leaving the door open’s not going to stop me from being annoying. If anything, it gives me a bigger audience.”
When she doesn’t respond, I step farther into the room but keep my distance. “Is everything all right?” I force a casual tone, trying to ignore the unease in the atmosphere.
“Everything’s fine.” The lie rolls off her tongue so smoothly it might be convincing, but I know better. She’s holding back.
Am I missing something? We’re alone. She doesn’t have to pretend like there’s nothing going on between us.
“Can I help you?” she asks. Still no eye contact. She keeps reading, fingers flipping through documents.
“Well, I spoke with Dr. Olcan about Jayme’s medical history.”
“And?”
“He said Jayme appears perfectly healthy. No medical conditions that would make him susceptible to mind magic or cause him to act violently without provocation.”
Rhiannon finally glances up again, but her expression remains neutral. Professional. “That’s disappointing, but it aligns with what I expected.”
“How did it go with the seers?” I prop myself against the wall, still wrestling with this shift in Rhiannon’s demeanor.
Her shoulders pull back and her spine straightens into that familiar rigid line, like I’m just another subordinate addressing her. “Nothing relevant to the investigation.”
Sun from the window catches the edge of her jaw, and for a half-second I’m back at the pond, moonlight illuminating her fingers tangled in my shirt, her mouth warm against mine. I approach her desk and lean against the edge of it, trying to catch her eyes. “Rhiannon, are you—”
“Is there anything else you’ve learned regarding the investigation?” She cuts me off, tapping the papers on the desk to straighten their edges before looking up at me.
The chill in her voice feels like cold water. What the fuck happened?
“I—” I search her face for clues but find only emptiness staring back. “No, that’s everything Dr. Olcan told me about Jayme.”
“I’ll include that information in my report to the Alpha.” She nods before turning her attention back to the reports again.
She’s clearly dismissing me, but I don’t move. Something’s wrong. Just this morning, even when injured, she looked at me like what happened between us meant something.
“Rhiannon.” I lower my voice and lean in. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.” Now she won’t even hold eye contact. “I have an investigation to complete and limited time to do it.”
A scoff escapes me. “You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to.”
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.” She doesn’t bother to look up. “That will be all.”
That will be all? What am I? A butler delivering her lunch?
I push off from her desk. “You know, for someone with supernatural abilities, you’re doing a terrible job of pretending like this is a normal dynamic for us.”
Her pen stills. I’m breaking through.
“I’m not pretending anything. I have a job to do.”
“Right. And I’m the Alpha King.” Rounding the desk, I close the distance between us. “Look at me.”
She doesn’t.
“Rhiannon.” I say her name softly this time, letting it hang in the air between us — a reminder.
Her fingers tighten around the pen. “What do you want from me, Ethan?”
You. I want you.
“No one else is here. You can stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“Pretending that nothing happened between us at the pond last night and, before that, right there in your bedroom.” I gesture between us. “That we didn’t happen.”
Her brows furrow. “There is no we happening.”
“Really? Because the scratches on my back say otherwise, and they’re not from training.”
The pen snaps in her grip. Ink bleeds across her fingers, dark as the flush creeping up her neck.
“That was a mistake.” She shoves back from the desk, moving to grab tissues from her nightstand. “One I don’t intend to repeat...again.”
I watch her scrub at the ink stains with more force than necessary. Part of me wants to go to her and still her hands. Another part of me knows better.
“What happened between when I left for the infirmary and now?” My voice is quieter than I intend. “Did someone say something?”
The scrubbing stops. Just for a heartbeat. Then resumes.
“Nothing happened. I simply came to my senses.” She tosses the tissues into the trash, still facing away from me. “Whatever you think is between us, it needs to end. Now.”
What I think is between us?
The last thread of my patience unravels.
“Turn around. Please.”
“You don’t get to—”
“Just look at me when you say that. That’s all I’m asking.”
Slowly, she pivots. Her shoulders brace like she’s preparing for battle, every inch of her daring me to push the issue further. But those golden-brown eyes skitter away from mine for just a fraction of a second.
There it is. The tell. The sign that I haven’t been imagining how she feels about me.
“You know how much you mean to me, Rhiannon.” Laying out the bare truth without a punchline to hide behind is just about as comfortable as wearing my skin inside out. “It’s not a secret that I like you, and I won’t apologize for it.”
“You should.” Her words are flat and final.
“Then tell me. Tell me every reason why this can’t work, and I’ll stand here and listen to all of them.”
“You want a list?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
“Fine. Human-Lycan bonds are forbidden under Clarion law. The penalty is death, for both parties.” Her throat works around the word death.
“The Alpha King could order your execution tomorrow, and there’s nothing anyone could do to stop him. ”
I don’t move. I don’t flinch. I just wait.
“You’re fragile. Human. Every creature in this realm could kill you without breaking a sweat.” She drifts toward me, and I don’t think she realizes she’s done it. “The pack will never accept a human living among them. And I—”
Her words stall, half-formed. “After everything that’s happened with Xander, I’ve finally built something here, a reputation that has nothing to do with being his almost Luna.
Do you think I haven’t considered throwing all of that away to be with you?
” The confession spills out before she can stop it.
Shock flashes across her face, and she abruptly steps back like she’s touched a flame.
“I wouldn’t be able to keep my position.
What do you think would happen when the pack finds out their Commander’s chosen the forbidden human? ”
“And those are just the consequences for us.” Rhiannon’s on a roll now, her composure cracking.
“We’re supposed to be in the middle of peace negotiations with the Shaman.
The Shaman who literally cursed us for centuries.
The summit hangs by a thread. If this falls apart, treaties collapse. Wars start. People die.”
“So we’ll be careful.” I step closer. I’m not trying to be flippant. I want us to make the choice to make this work. “You and me, we’ll rewrite the rules. We’ll make our own fate.”
Her fingers lock at her sides. She finally meets my gaze, her eyes blazing gold. For one breath, I swear she’s leaning toward me.
“You actually believe it would be that easy?” Her voice drops, becoming sharp and cold. Her facade of control is regained. “This isn’t some fairy tale, human. This world doesn’t bend for what we want. It breaks us for daring to want it. I won’t gamble your life, or my own, for a hopeless crush.”
I force myself to hold her stare. “A hopeless crush? That’s what you’re calling this?
” My teeth clench. “You know damn well it’s more than that.
Everything and everyone in this world keeps telling me I don’t fit, that I’m not meant to be here.
But when I’m with you?” I let the silence speak for me for a beat.
“If we’re a mistake, it’s the first mistake I’ve made that has allowed me to feel like I finally belong somewhere, whether it’s Kortan, the Outer Lands, or any other dimension. ”
The room becomes still. I see in the way her hands loosen and then curl tightly again that she’s fighting the urge to reach for me.
“Belonging is not the same as being safe.” Her voice wavers a little. “And safety is the first vow I made to this pack. . .and to you.”
“I’m not asking you to keep me safe. I’m asking you to let me in.” I close the remaining distance between us. I’m close enough now that if she swayed forward even an inch, we’d be touching.
“I’m also not asking for easy. I’m asking for a chance.” My voice drops. “Since when do you let other people decide what you fight for?”
She rolls her eyes, but I can see that they’re glassy. “You’re naive.”
“Maybe. But I’m not wrong.” I hold her gaze, refusing to let her look away. “You’re using all these reasons as a wall to hide behind: politics, laws, danger. It’s easier than admitting the truth.”
She glares at me with defiance. “And what truth is that?”
“Tell me you don’t care about me,” I challenge her. “Tell me, and I’ll walk away right now.”
Silence hangs between us. Her lips part, but no words come.
I reach for her hand. She tries to pull away, but my palm brushes her fingers and she freezes. Neither of us breathes.
Her skin is warm. Warmer than it should be. And where we touch, a current runs beneath the surface, one that has no name and no business existing between a human and a Lycan.
And then I hear it: her heartbeat. Wild. Thundering. Almost like it’s my own, thrumming through my veins. Two rhythms syncing into one, defying every law she just listed and even ones she hadn’t.
We both go still. Her guard drops, and for one suspended second, I see everything she’s trying to hide. The longing. The fear. The desperate, aching want that mirrors my own. Her fingers curl, just barely, around mine.
Then she tears her gaze away and lets go.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” The words come out defeated.
“It doesn’t matter how either of us feel.
” Her hands press together against her chest, fingers laced like she’s physically holding herself together.
She steps back until her desk forms a barrier between us.
“No one can rewrite destiny, Ethan. There’s no point in pretending that there will ever be a future between us. ”
“Rhiannon—” I stand there, gutted, watching her retreat behind that untouchable mask.
“I don’t have a choice.” Her voice is mostly steady, but it’s on the verge. “Please go. This is. . .over.”
That final word just barely breaks as it leaves her mouth. Just enough to shatter something inside me.
“Fine.”
I do as she asks, and am left standing listlessly in the hallway after her door closes behind me with a soft click.
Sunlight still stripes the floor. Same golden rectangles, same cold stone.
But somehow everything looks different now.
The air presses against my lungs until breathing becomes a conscious effort.
I can’t believe that I opened up to her like that, tore down every wall I’ve ever built, and she flat out rejected me, rejected us, without even giving us a fighting chance.
How could she give up so easily?
Scarface’s voice drifts back into my mind: Every minute she spends worrying about keeping you alive is a minute she’s not protecting the ones who belong here.
His words crush me like a ton of bricks. It’s like Rhiannon said, she finally came to her senses.
Whatever we have — or had — it’s not worth the cost. I’m not worth it.
Rhiannon has everything she needs already.
She’s devastatingly beautiful, fierce and strong in ways I’ll never be, respected by warriors who could tear me apart — in her words — without breaking a sweat.
She’s supporting an entire pack that depends on her protection and leadership.
Her presence commands admiration, her decisions shape lives, and her very existence is integral to every Lycan in Kortan.
And what am I?
Just a powerless human who’s required saving not once but twice in the short span of time I’ve been here. I’m a weakling wrapped in fragile skin and breakable bones, stumbling through a world of predators with nothing but my smart mouth and a bogus gift.
I can’t shift into a wolf. I can’t see visions of the future.
Even with Dr. Olcan’s capabilities — which far exceed those of human doctors — my training injuries heal at a snail’s pace compared to everyone else.
I can’t protect anyone, least of all Rhiannon, from the dangers that threaten to destabilize Clarion.
My feet carry me down the corridor without direction.
The blackened remnants of extinguished torchlight stains the aged stone.
Through a narrow window, the sky looms, indifferent.
Come nightfall, its vast darkness will be clotted with stars that have burned in the same positions for millennia.
Certainly, no human can change the inevitability of destiny.
Rhiannon is right. About all of it.
The two of us shouldn’t try to rewrite the rules. I don’t belong here. I never did.