Chapter 29
RIVIK
Ifound Daska near the fire pit, checking his pack one last time. His movements were methodical, practiced, the habits of a warrior preparing for a long journey. But there was a heaviness to them, a weight that had nothing to do with the supplies he carried.
He looked up when I approached as he'd been expecting me.
"Rivik." His voice was quiet, respectful. The way he'd always spoken to me, even before I became alpha. Even when we were cubs wrestling in the dirt, he'd had that quality, steadiness, loyalty, the bone-deep trust in me. I never felt less like I deserved it than today.
"Daska." I stopped a few paces away, suddenly uncertain.
We'd fought beside each other for years.
Hunted together. Bled together. Pulled each other out of more bad situations than I could count.
But we'd never been good with words, either of us.
We showed what we felt through actions, through the willingness to stand beside each other when everything went wrong.
Now I needed words, and I didn't have them.
He seemed to understand. He always had. He straightened slowly, letting his hands fall away from his pack, and faced me fully. "I'll keep her safe."
The words hit harder than I expected. My throat tightened, and I had to force myself to nod. "I know you will."
"I'll guard her with my life. Whatever comes, Rivik, I won't let anything touch her. I swear it."
"I know." The words came out rougher than I intended. "If I didn't trust you with her, you wouldn't be leaving this valley."
He laughed and I smiled, then his own faded and he sighed.
“I never wanted…" He stopped, shook his head. "She was never supposed to be just mine."
"She chose you."
"Because you pushed her toward me." His eyes snapped back to mine, fierce and pained. "Don't think I don't know what you did, Rivik. You could have claimed her as well. You should have claimed her. But you stood back and let me…"
I held his gaze. "Because she needed someone who could give her everything. No divided loyalties. No impossible choices. You can walk beside her without destroying yourself or abandoning your people." I paused. "I couldn't."
"So you're destroying yourself anyway." It wasn't a question. Daska took a step closer, his expression raw. "You think I can't see it? You think any of us can't see what this is doing to you?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
"She's your mate, Rivik." His voice was almost pleading now. "The bond, Great Mother, I can feel the edges of it when I'm near her, and it's not even mine. What it must be like for you…" He stopped, shook his head. "This is going to kill you."
"No." I kept my voice steady. "It won't. Because I'm an alpha, and I need to endure. For the pack."
"That's not endurance. That's a slow death."
"Then make it worth it," I said quietly. "Love her. Protect her. Give her the life she deserves. Make sure that what I'm losing means she gains everything."
Daska's face crumpled. For just a second, the warrior facade dropped away and I saw the boy I'd grown up with, the one who used to follow me into trouble, who'd stood beside me when my father died, when I became alpha, who'd never once questioned his loyalty even when it cost him.
"Brother," he whispered.
I stepped forward and pulled him into a rough embrace.
His arms came around me immediately, gripping hard enough to hurt, and I felt him shudder once against my shoulder. We stood there in the morning light, two warriors who'd survived everything the world could throw at them, breaking over something neither of us could fight.
"Thank you," Daska said roughly against my shoulder. "For trusting me with her. For letting me…" He pulled back, his hands gripping my shoulders, his eyes bright. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of what you've given me."
"You already are." I gripped his forearms. "You're a good man, Daska. The best I know. If anyone can make her happy, can keep her whole, it's you."
"I wish—"
"Don't." I squeezed his arms once, firm and final. "Don't wish it were different. Just make sure it's enough."
He nodded, but the grief in his eyes didn't fade. "You could come with us."
"No." The word came out harder than I intended. "I couldn't. The pack needs me here. Karik is still a threat, and I am the alpha. I can’t change that."
"Rivik."
"Take care of her." I stepped back, breaking contact before I could change my mind. "And when she looks back—" My voice caught, and I had to force the words out. "When she looks back and wonders, tell her I wanted her to be happy."
"She already knows that." Daska's voice was thick.
"Does she?" I looked past him, to where she was crouching, chatting to some of the pups that had befriended her in her time with us. "Does she understand what the bond means? What it costs to let her go?"
"I think she's starting to."
The words should have been comforting. They weren't. They just made everything harder, knowing she might feel even a fraction of what I was feeling, might carry her own echo of this pain into whatever future awaited her.
"Then help her forget." I met his eyes again. "Give her new memories. Better ones. Ones that don't include a bond she never asked for."
Daska shook his head slowly. "I don't think it works like that, brother."
"Make it work."
He nodded slowly. "I'll do my best."
Silence fell between us, heavy with everything we weren't saying. Everything we didn't know how to say. The sun was climbing higher, preparations were nearly done. Soon they would leave.
Soon she would be gone.
"I should go," Daska said quietly. "Make sure everything's ready."
"Yes."
But neither of us moved.
Finally, Daska stepped forward one last time and gripped my forearm in the warrior's clasp, his hand strong and steady and sure. "You're the best man I've ever known, Rivik. I’m grateful to have you as my brother." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And I'm sorry. For all of it."
"Don't be. Safe travels, brother," I said.
"Safe keeping, Alpha." He held my gaze for one last moment. Then he turned and walked away. I stood alone by the dying fire and watched him go.
The valley stretched out below me and from this height, I could see the travellers winding slowly toward the narrow eastern pass that led beyond our territory.
My chest tightened, a slow constriction that made breathing difficult.
I forced air into my lungs, one measured breath at a time, and kept my body still.
Completely still. If I moved, if I allowed even the smallest crack in my control, I didn't know what would happen.
The bond pulled.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't the warm, steady presence I'd felt when she was near.
This was sharp and raw, like something vital being torn loose from inside my chest. Every step she took away from me sent another jolt of wrongness through my body, my pulse erratic, my wolf snarling and clawing beneath my skin, instinct screaming at me to move, to follow, to claim what was mine.
I didn't move.
An alpha does not break.
Below me, I could see pack members gathered near the edge of camp, watching the departure in respectful silence.
Some had come to see them off with gifts and farewells.
Others simply stood witness, honouring the strangers who had disrupted everything and changed nothing and somehow meant more than any of us had expected.
I should be down there. Standing with them. Leading by example.
I couldn't.
If I stood among my people right now, they would see it. The fracture. The weakness. The alpha who couldn't hold onto what mattered most.
So I stayed on the ridge, alone, and watched her go.
Daska too. I swallowed. We'd hunted together, fought together, bled together.
I knew the sound of his laugh, the way he steadied younger warriors with a quiet word, the patience in his hands when he healed.
I knew he would give his life for those he loved without hesitation.
I had watched him give his heart to Ellie and known that he would never be able to let her go, and because of that, he would never be allowed to stay.
I had spent years studying the complications of pack politics under my father, knew the laws and the weaknesses, knew what, as alpha, I could and couldn’t do.
It was often a precarious balance, and so often what was right and what was done were so far apart, it made me want to scream.
Ellie couldn’t stay. So neither could Daska. They both deserved a life together, full of love, and family, and belonging. I had to let them go. Out there, somewhere, Daska could give her all of that. I couldn't.
The bond pulsed again, sharper this time, and I gritted my teeth against the ache. My wolf spirit was in agony, pacing and snarling. It didn't understand duty. It didn't care about pack law or territorial threats or the hundred reasons why letting her go was the only choice that made sense.
It only knew loss.
Pride warred with grief in my chest as I watched Daska's broad form move steadily down the trail. He was a good man. The best. If anyone deserved Ellie, if anyone could keep her safe and loved and whole…
The thought twisted like a knife, and I shoved it away before it could finish forming.
The group was nearly to the pass now, the distance between us growing with every breath.
And then she stopped.
Ellie turned, her small figure barely visible against the snow, and looked back.
The bond flared.
For one suspended heartbeat, I felt her as clearly as if she stood beside me, the ache in her chest, the confusion and grief and hope all tangled together, the pull toward me that she didn't understand and couldn't name.
I didn't move. Didn't raise a hand or call out or give any sign that my heart was being carved out of my chest. I just stood there, silent and still, and let her look.
Go, I thought, willing the bond to carry it to her. Go and be safe. Go and live.