Chapter 18
Bolton
Ican smell her before I see her.
It’s not just the vanilla and honey shampoo she always uses, or the soft, earthy scent that clings to her skin since her first shift. It’s her. Her presence. Her heartbeat. That quiet pulse I’ve been tuned into since the moment my wolf locked on to hers.
I lean against the row of lockers outside her last class, arms crossed, trying to look casual. Like I didn’t just finish an advanced sparring session with Dax and then jog all the way across campus just so I could see her for five minutes before she heads home.
The bell rings. Doors open. Students spill out like water from a cracked dam. I scan the crowd, ignoring the low murmurs and darted glances. Half of them still trying to figure out what, exactly, I am to Maya Ortiz now.
Then I see her.
She’s at the back of the class, slipping her notebook into her backpack, her braid laced over one shoulder and a pencil tucked behind her ear like she forgot it was there. She’s not trying to stand out. Never does. But she still draws every eye in the hallway. Including mine.
She looks up and our eyes lock.
And seriously, it hits me every time like that first breath after you’ve been underwater too long.
She walks straight toward me, and I don’t even try to hide my smile.
“I thought you had council duties,” she says, stopping just close enough that I can hear the soft hitch in her breath.
“Skipped the last ten minutes of strategy review,” I admit. “Dax looked like he’d rather chew his own foot off than stay awake anyway. Figured I’d use the time better.”
She lifts a brow. “And stalking me after Bio counts as a better use of your time?”
“I missed you,” I say simply.
Maya freezes for half a beat, like I did something reckless by saying it out loud.
But then she exhales, and her shoulders relax.
“I missed you too,” she says, softer.
My wolf exhales with her.
She closes the distance between us, just a little. Our hands brush. It’s not an accident.
Her eyes flick to mine. “You doing okay?”
“I am now.” I tilt my head. “What about you? You handled the council meeting like a born Luna yesterday.”
She rolls her eyes. “I was mostly trying not to throw up.”
“You looked like you were ready to take over the whole damn pack.”
She chuckles, and it’s the kind of sound that makes everything else blur out for a second.
I lean in, just enough that my forehead touches hers.
The hallway noise fades. It's just her and me, and that low steady thrum between us that’s been building since the bond set its roots. All I can think about is the way her scent wraps around me, how right it feels to be this close, how—
“Well, this is cozy.”
The voice slices through the moment like a blade dipped in venom.
Cassie.
I don’t have to look to know she’s standing just over Maya’s shoulder, arms crossed, lips twisted into that smug little curve she saves for moments like this.
Maya pulls back from me, but not far. Just enough to turn and face her.
Cassie’s wearing a cropped leather jacket like she’s about to step onto a runway, not into a passive-aggressive standoff. Her lipstick’s too red, her eyes too amused.
“Surprised you’re still hanging around, Maya,” she says, voice sweet as poisoned sugar. “I figured after the whole challenge thing, you’d slink off somewhere to lick your wounds.”
Maya doesn’t flinch. “You mean after I won?”
Cassie’s smile tightens just a fraction.
I step in, voice calm but edged. “Cassie, was there a reason you’re here? Or did you just feel like reminding everyone you’re not over it?”
Cassie tilts her head at me, playing at innocent. “Oh, don’t mind me. Just checking in on the happy couple. Making sure you’re both surviving your little mating moon phase. I hear the crash after the high can be brutal.”
Maya crosses her arms, the movement slow and deliberate, her weight shifting to one foot as she lifts her chin slightly. “You know,” she says, voice sharper than before, “for someone who lost, you seem really invested in what comes next for us. Almost like you’re hoping we fail. Or hoping I do.”
Cassie’s eyes narrow, the playful glint in them flickering out like a candle snuffed by wind.
Her jaw tightens, just slightly, like she’s biting back something sour.
But she doesn’t look away. Instead, her stare sharpens, calculating, as if she’s trying to read a weakness in Maya’s expression the way a wolf would read scent on the wind.
Maya doesn't blink.
She just arches a brow and says, “You keep watching me, Cassie. Like you're waiting for me to crack. But maybe what you're really afraid of… is that I won't.”
Cassie’s mask slips for half a second. A crease at the corner of her mouth appears that could be fury or fear. Then she smirks again, but it’s thinner this time. Brittle.
“You’re not pack born. You haven’t earned anything,” Cassie says quietly, teeth behind the words. “You think one shift and a mark means you belong. But legacy isn’t something you grab when it’s convenient. It’s blood. It’s years.”
“Exactly,” Maya replies, voice low. “And I’m still standing here.”
Cassie’s jaw flexes. “For now.”
I slip my hand into Maya’s and level a look at Cassie. It’s not a threat. It’s a boundary.
Cassie stares at our joined hands like they’ve betrayed her.
“I used to think you were just lost,” she says, looking back at Maya. “Now I think you’re dangerous. Because you’re not just changing Bolton—you’re changing everything.”
Maya doesn’t argue.
She just says, “Good.”
Cassie blinks, as if she didn’t expect that answer.
Then slowly, she turns on her heel and walks away.
We stand there in the hallway, the hum of lockers and conversations rushing back in like surf after a storm.
I turn to Maya.
Her grip in my hand is steady.
“You okay?” I murmur.
She nods, but her eyes stay locked on the space Cassie just left.
“I’m not here to make her comfortable,” she says. “Or anyone else who thinks power should only come from the past.”
I smile, slow and real.
“That’s why you’re going to be Luna.”
She exhales, and her shoulders drop just a little, that tension bleeding out of her like breath held too long.
Then she smiles back, just enough to make the hallway feel smaller. Closer. Safer.
“Want to walk me out?” she asks.
“Always.”
I squeeze her hand and lead her to the double door exit.
She’s mine. Nothing and no one will change that fact.