Chapter 6
ROWAN
Getting up today doesn’t feel as frustrating as the past few mornings. The weight that usually settles in my chest the moment I open my eyes isn’t there. Instead, there’s a restless sort of energy humming beneath my skin.
In fact, it seems like a great day to completely shake everything up.
What do you think you’re doing? Wolf asks as I start pulling clothes out of drawers, folding more with purpose than precision.
Packing.
For what?
Her nervousness makes me chuckle. To move. We’re going to live in the pack house like we should have when we came here.
Her response is immediate—warm, approving, and proud. She likes this idea. She likes the symbolism of it. Of us claiming space instead of hiding in it.
I just hope Cade does too.
He’s been carrying the weight of this pack like a penance, bending himself into something quieter, more careful than the alpha I know he is.
It hurts to watch. And maybe it says something unflattering about me that I miss the version of Cade who snapped my grandmother’s neck without hesitation, but mostly, I hate that none of his restraint has been rewarded.
Maybe this will help.
Being closer. Being visible. Letting the pack see that I’m not some fragile liability tucked away in a cabin, but someone who’s staying. Someone who’s willing to contribute, even if I’m not entirely sure what a luna is supposed to do yet.
Cook? Clean? Mediate? Bite someone?
I’ll figure it out.
I’m nearly finished folding my clothes when the front door opens and closes. The familiar pull of Cade’s presence brushes against my senses, warm and inviting, and a smile curls across my mouth before I can stop it.
Maybe he came back for breakfast.
I step out of the bedroom and stop short.
There’s a crease between his brows, deep and sharp, his shoulders tense like he’s coiled around a decision that hasn’t fully settled yet. His energy is restless, charged, and suddenly, my earlier confidence wavers.
“What happened?” I ask, crossing my arms more to brace myself than anything else.
“We’re leaving,” he says.
I don’t get a chance to ask where to—or even why—because he’s already closing the distance between us. His hands come up to cup my face, firm and possessive, thumbs pressing lightly into my jaw as he claims my mouth.
The kiss is anything but gentle.
It’s hungry and urgent. Like he’s been holding himself back for far too long and finally decided he’s done waiting.
I gasp softly into his mouth, fingers fisting in his shirt as I rise onto my toes, meeting him with the same intensity. His body fits against mine like it always has, solid and sure, his warmth bleeding into me until my thoughts scatter.
Gods, this man.
His kiss deepens, slow and devastating now, like he’s savoring instead of taking, like he’s reminding both of us exactly what’s been building between us every night that we’ve spent pressed together without crossing that final line.
My pulse thunders. My skin feels too tight.
I don’t know where this came from, but I know I don’t want it to stop.
Whatever he said before kissing me senseless can wait.
This… Him… Us… They’re the only things that matter right now.
Cade’s breath stutters against my mouth, a low sound that vibrates straight through me, and the kiss changes, slowing.
Not because the need lessens—if anything, it sharpens—but because he’s suddenly paying attention. To me. To our connection. His thumbs trace the line of my jaw with reverent care, like he’s memorizing the shape of me, like he’s anchoring himself before he loses control entirely.
His lips part against mine, warm and insistent, and when my tongue brushes his, the reaction is immediate. A shudder rolls through him, his grip tightening just enough to tell me how close he is to snapping.
I feel it too.
Not just the desire, but something deeper and quieter, threading itself between my ribs. The bond hums, no longer a distant presence, but awake and attentive. Like it’s leaning in with us.
My chest warms. Not in heat but recognition.
Cade presses his forehead to mine, still holding my face, still breathing me in like he needs the scent of me to stay upright. His pulse thunders beneath my palms where they’re splayed against his chest, steady and wild all at once.
“Rowan,” he murmurs, my name rough with restraint.
The sound does something to me. Something dangerous.
I kiss him again before he can finish the thought, demanding this time. I pour everything I haven’t said into it—trust, loyalty, want, certainty. When his arms tighten around my waist, drawing me flush against him, the contact sends a spark straight through the bond.
And it answers.
The hum turns into a tug—gentle but unmistakable—like the bond is aligning itself, tightening by a fraction. I gasp softly, breaking the kiss just enough to breathe, my forehead resting against his collarbone as the feeling washes through me.
Did you feel that? Wolf asks reverently.
I sure did.
Cade stills, his breath hitching, his hold instinctively protective now, like he’s bracing himself around something precious. His scent deepens—woodsmoke and pine and mine—and I feel his awareness flick inward, confirming.
His hands slide up my back, slow and grounding, and when he finally pulls away, it’s only far enough to look at me.
Something has changed in his eyes.
Not hunger—though that’s still there—but certainty.
Like whatever decision he made before walking through that door has just been sealed.
Yet there’s still a shadow clinging to him, something dark and bruised beneath the heat of the kiss, and it pulls painfully at my chest.
He’s breathing hard, barely steady, and I lift my hand to his face, tracing the line of his jaw, committing the roughness of his beard to memory like I might need it later to remind myself he’s real.
“What’s wrong?” I ask softly.
“We’re leaving.”
The finality in his voice makes me frown. “You already said that. To the pack house, I assume?”
He shakes his head once sharply. “No, leaving Solara and going back to NightShade. Or maybe even Stoneclaw. Either way, we’re going to find people who don’t piss me off, and we’re going to go get your mother like we should have done long ago.”
My heart soars and crashes all at once.
“I don’t understand,” I say honestly. “What about the pack? They need you.”
A humorless breath leaves him. “They asked for space.” His fingers curl into mine, the grip iron-strong. “So, I’m giving it to them.”
Something about the way he says it—controlled and clean—tells me this isn’t drama. It’s damage.
“Cade,” I say, holding his hands tighter, grounding him the way he’s done for me more times than I can count. “This place matters to you. That makes it matter to me. Are you sure you want to leave?”
He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything except you.
” His voice drops, rough around the edges.
“I spent two weeks trying to be someone I’m not.
Swallowing insults. Letting them pile work on me.
Listening to them question my choices. Question you.
” His breath shudders. “And for what? Nothing’s changed.
I’m done shrinking myself to make them comfortable. ”
The ache in my chest deepens.
Because this isn’t Cade being reckless. This is Cade finally standing upright again, and realizing it cost him more than he expected.
“I knew I hurt them when I left,” he continues quietly. “But I don’t think I ever truly believed they’d reject me like this.”
The pain in his voice does something to me that I’ve yet to experience.
A hot, feral spark ignites in my chest, sharp enough that Wolf lifts her head, teeth bared. This place has no idea what they’re throwing away. No idea who they’re turning their backs on.
It makes me want to burn Solara to the ground and salt the ashes.
“They don’t deserve you,” I say fiercely. “And they definitely don’t deserve your patience.”
He opens his eyes then, something raw flickering there.
“We’ll go,” I add, firm and sure. “Maybe somehow I knew this was coming because I kind of already started packing.”
One dark brow lifts as his arm tightens around me. “And where were you planning to go?”
“We were going to move into the pack house,” I tell him pointedly. “Show the pack that we’re a united front, and I was going to try and be more luna-y, but screw that. They don’t deserve all the awesomeness that we are if they want space.”
That finally cracks him.
A real smile—slow, surprised, and devastating—pulls at his mouth.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
I rise onto my toes and kiss him again, softer this time but no less certain. “I will always have your back, Cade. Always.”
And this time, when he holds me, it feels like a decision has been made together, with finality.
A knock at the front door comes hard and fast.
Not polite. Not hesitant.
Cade stiffens instantly, body shifting from mine with a quiet exhale like he’s already bracing for whatever comes next. I barely have time to register the sound before the front door swings open.
Stephanie stands in the doorway, breathless, dark hair pulled back like she ran here. Elias isn’t far behind her, shoulders tense, eyes sharp as they scan the cabin.
“Well,” Stephanie says grimly, “that didn’t take long.”
Cade’s jaw tightens. “What didn’t?”
“Word’s spreading,” Stephanie replies. “About the elders. About you being told to give the pack space.” Her gaze flicks to me, then back to Cade. “And you said you’d give it by leaving. Is it true?”
A tug at my jeans has me looking down even though I’m eager to hear how Cade responds.
Archie, freshly awakened and deeply unimpressed by the extra noise, climbs my leg like I’m a tree he’s claimed by birthright. He settles against my collarbone with a grumpy huff, tail flicking.
“Rude awakening,” he mutters. “Someone better be dying, or I’m biting ankles.”
Stephanie snorts despite herself. “See? Even the ferret knows this is bullshit.”
Cade doesn’t smile.
“We are leaving,” he says calmly. “But not because they asked for space.”
Stephanie’s shoulders sag—not in relief, exactly, but resignation. “Whatever the reason.” She steps fully inside now, with Elias right behind her. “I want to go with you.”
Well, that takes me by surprise. I’ve barely seen her since we arrived.
Cade’s head snaps up. “Steph—”
“Don’t,” she cuts in. “I didn’t fight hard enough. None of us did. We thought giving you room to show them on your own was respecting you.” Her voice wavers just slightly. “Turns out it was cowardice.”
I guess that explains her absence.
Elias nods once. “You’re our alpha. Whether the pack likes it or not. The council maybe should have stepped in, but there’s a reason why so few pushed to replace you and why I stepped in to cover. You belong here, or we belong with you.”
The air hums.
Before Cade can respond, movement draws my attention toward the open door again.
Four more shifters stand there—hesitant but determined.
I recognize them from our first day here. When I still thought everything might work out and people greeted us.
Jonah, tall and broad-shouldered, a mechanic by trade with grease-stained hands even now.
Caleb, quieter, sharp-eyed, one of the guards who was also at NightShade with us.
Mara, a pack teacher with a firm command yet soft heart.
And Dean, older than the rest, his posture rigid with the weight of a lifetime of loyalty.
Jonah clears his throat. “We heard you were leaving.”
Cade says nothing.
Dean continues, voice steady. “We assumed it wasn’t your choice.”
“We should’ve spoken sooner.” Caleb glances at Mara, who nods in agreement. “We were afraid of overstepping. We’re not betas or even your friend, but you are our alpha.”
Silence stretches.
My heart pounds. Not with fear, but something steadier.
“We don’t care where you’re going,” Jonah adds. “NightShade Manor. Another pack. Hell, we’ll pitch tents in the forest and start over if that’s what you need.”
Caleb nods. “We’ll fight Malrik. Guard the manor. Stand watch. Whatever.”
Mara’s voice is quiet but unbreakable. “Like Dean said, you’re our alpha. That never changed. At least for some of us.”
Cade looks at them then, and something in him shifts.
There’s no anger in this moment, or even triumph at these six coming to him.
Just acceptance.
He can walk away from Solara, but he can’t walk away from who he truly is.
Alpha.
“You don’t owe me apologies,” he says finally. “But if you follow me, you do it knowing this may not be easy. And I won’t soften my decisions to make anyone comfortable.”
Jonah smiles faintly. “Good.”
Footsteps approach from behind us.
I turn just as Iris strides in, a duffel slung over her shoulder like she’s heading to war instead of leaving pack land. Liz follows, expression sharp and ready, and Marius brings up the rear, a bag already in hand.
“Hope we’re not late,” Iris says briskly, patting her hip where her infamous knitting needles are poking out of her fanny pack. “I heard we were leaving and figured you’d want all the backup you could find.”
Archie perks up. “Grandma’s armed. I like this plan.”
Liz grins at me. “Told you I wasn’t sitting this out.”
Marius meets Cade’s gaze and inclines his head. “Wherever you go, we go.”
I look around the room—at wolves who chose loyalty over safety, at family who doesn’t hesitate, at my mate standing tall in the center of it all.
This is it.
We have our people.
Now there’s only one thing left to do.
I slip my hand into Cade’s, squeezing once.
“Let’s go get my mom.”
I’ve waited for this moment, and it’s finally time.
Most importantly, we’re not going alone.