Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
KIER
Iwake before dawn, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to my consciousness like cobwebs. In my dream, I was back in that cell—walls pressing in, silver burning against my skin, accusing eyes watching me from the shadows.
“You left us there to die,” my sister whispers in my mind, her voice as clear as if she were standing beside me.
“You’re not real,” I mutter, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. “You’re a memory. A hallucination.”
“Then why can you hear me?”
Ants squirm under my skin as the walls close in. Desperate for fresh air, I throw off the blankets and shift. The den is quiet at this early hour—most wolves still sleeping, leaving the corridors empty and peaceful. Outside in the crisp mountain air, I inhale my first real breath since waking.
Three years of captivity taught me to value open spaces, to appreciate the stretch of horizons that seem to never end. The Shadowmist territory unfolds before me—towering pines silhouetted against the lightening sky, mountain peaks crowned with early snow, mist curling through valleys like smoke.
It’s beautiful. Perfect, even. The kind of place I might have dreamed about during those endless days of isolation.
But I’m still an outsider here.
My wolf dances from side to side, restless after days of recovery. He doesn’t like being surrounded by so many other wolves whose scents carry pack markers that aren’t ours.
I know. I feel it too.
Every instinct I have screams that I don’t belong—that I should move on before I get too comfortable, before I forget what it means to stand alone.
But there’s Lithia.
Just thinking her name makes my chest tighten. We’d leave but for the white-blonde Beta who saved my sanity in that stone hell, who fought beside me to escape, who shared her body and her fears with me under the stars.
She’s the woman I’m falling for with terrifying speed.
The woman who’s been avoiding me.
I understand why, of course. She’s Beta here—she has responsibilities, pack members who need her, a position to maintain. She can’t afford the luxury of showing weakness or vulnerability, not when her pack is looking to her for leadership.
Doesn’t make it any fucking easier.
My wolf whines in agreement.
With a huff, we pad back to our room and pull-on clothes. I need to stretch my muscles after days of enforced rest. But even I know running through an unfamiliar territory unescorted is a recipe for disaster.
I find my way to the training yard easily enough, grateful for the open space and the chance to work out some of the restlessness that’s been building inside me.
I begin with simple exercises—push-ups, pull-ups using a sturdy branch that overhangs one corner of the yard, sprints from one end to the other.
My body responds eagerly, muscles loosening as I push harder. By the time the sun crests the mountain, I’m drenched in sweat but feeling more centered than I have in days.
“Impressive stamina for someone who spent three years in a cell.”
I turn to find a tall wolf leaning against the fence, watching me with sharp eyes. The Alpha’s presence is unmistakable, a quiet power that fills the space without effort.
Ryker.
“I worked out inside my cell,” I reply, grabbing a towel someone left draped over the fence. “Push-ups, mostly. It was one of the only things to do unless you count antagonizing the guards.”
“Most wolves wouldn’t have survived what you did,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact rather than sympathetic. “Three years in silver restraints? I’m not sure I’d be able to do it.” His gaze drops to the scars around my wrists. “That kind of fortitude takes something special.”
I shrug. “I was too pissed off to die.”
Ryker’s lips quirk into something approaching a smile. He studies me for a moment, then pushes off from the fence. “Want a real workout? I could use a sparring partner.”
The invitation catches me off guard—sparring with the Alpha is no small thing. “You sure? I’m pretty rusty.”
“I think you’ll manage.” There’s a glint of challenge in his eyes. “Besides, I like to know the measure of wolves in my territory.”
This is a test.
“I assume you’ve got rules about not maiming guests,” I say dryly.
He laughs, the sound surprisingly warm from such an imposing figure. “First blood or yield. Nothing permanent.”
“Fair enough.”
We move to the center of the yard, circling each other warily. Ryker is built like the predator he is—powerful shoulders, efficient movement, eyes that miss nothing. His reputation as a warrior is legendary, and I can see why.
He strikes first—a quick jab that I barely deflect, followed by a sweep that nearly takes my legs out from under me. I counter with a straight right that he slips away from with insulting ease.
“Not bad,” he comments, circling again. “But you’re telegraphing your moves. And you’re slow.”
“I’m definitely out of practice,” I admit. “Let’s go again.” His next attack comes faster, a combination that forces me to give ground. I block the worst of it but take a glancing blow to the ribs that makes me wince.
“Lithia’s changed since she returned,” Ryker says conversationally, as if we’re not in the middle of a fight. I feint left, then drive in with a shoulder check that catches him by surprise. He stumbles back a step before regaining his balance.
“Is this where you tell me not to hurt your Beta?”
“Lithia can take care of herself,” he replies, landing a solid hit to my solar plexus that leaves me gasping. “But she’s more than my Beta. She’s family.”
I understand what he’s trying to say. This isn’t just the Alpha protecting a pack member, this is personal.
“I would never hurt her.” I block his next strike and counter with one of my own. “Not intentionally.”
“Intentions aren’t always enough,” Ryker replies, his tone thoughtful rather than accusatory. “Especially for someone who’s spent so long alone.”
The observation stings because there’s truth in it. I’ve been a nomad for most of my adult life, never staying anywhere long enough to form real attachments. What do I know about commitment, about pack bonds, about the kind of loyalty that keeps a wolf in one place for years?
But I know Lithia. I know what she means to me.
Pissed off now, I unleash a flurry of attacks, driving Ryker back across the yard. He blocks most of them, but I manage to slip past his guard with a strike that opens a small cut above his eye.
First blood.
“Match,” I say, stepping back.
Ryker touches the cut, looking at the blood on his fingertips. “Shit. Kitara’s gonna give me hell if I come back with this.” With his Alpha healing, the cut is already closing. He swipes his hand on his jeans. “You’re not as rusty as you claimed.”
I shrug. “Survival’s a good teacher.”
“So it is.” He offers his hand, and I take it, surprised by the firm clasp of his fingers around mine. “You’re welcome to train with us. The pack could use someone with your skills.”
The invitation surprises me. It stretches beyond a simple sparring, to one that offers the opportunity to stay.
I can’t help myself. “Playing matchmaker for your Beta, Alpha?”
Ryker’s eyes sharpen, all traces of casual conversation gone. “Let me be clear, Kier. I don’t invite wolves into my pack because they’re fucking someone I care about.”
I wince.
“I see a wolf who survived three years in a prison that would have broken most of my wolves in months,” he continues, his voice low and serious.
“I see you have combat skills sharp enough to draw blood from an alpha—despite your weakness. I see someone who risked his freedom to save one of mine.” His mismatched eyes bore into me.
“That’s what I’m interested in. Not who you’re sleeping with. ”
The rebuke is gentle but firm, and I feel properly chastised… and appreciated. It’s a weird feeling. “Thanks. I’ll consider your offer.”
He nods, then turns to leave, but pauses after a few steps. “For what it’s worth,” he says, his mismatched eyes holding mine, “I think you’d be good for the pack. And us for you.”
He walks away, leaving me alone in the training yard with sweat cooling on my skin.
“They’ll never accept you,” Adelaide whispers from somewhere behind me. “Not really. You don’t belong here.”
“Shut up,” I mutter. “You’re not real.”
“Neither is this fantasy you’re building,” she continues. “A pack, a mate, a home? These aren’t for wolves like you, Kier.”
I close my eyes, focusing on the grounding techniques Elena taught me.
Blinking open, I start to name five things I can see.
The training yard dirt, the wooden fence, a cloud passing overhead, a bird on a branch, the scuff marks on my boots.
Then four things I can touch, the rough texture of the fence post, the soft cotton of my shirt, the cool morning air on my skin, the solid earth beneath my feet.
Adelaide fades, but the doubt she planted lingers. Is this all just another dream I’ve created to escape the reality of what I am—a wolf who doesn’t belong anywhere?
“You’ll only hurt her in the end,” a different voice murmurs—not Adelaide this time, but an older wolf from my original pack. “Better to leave now, before you cause real damage.”
I push away from the fence, needing to move, to escape the voices that follow me even here in this peaceful place. The den is coming alive now, wolves moving through corridors and courtyards as they begin their day.
I slip through them like a ghost, nodding when someone greets me but not slowing, not engaging. They’re polite enough—Ryker has made it clear I’m to be treated as an honored guest—but I can feel their curiosity, their wariness.
I’m still the outsider, the nomad who helped their Beta escape but doesn’t truly belong. And I’ve come after Zella—another stranger who they thought they could trust.
I round a corner and nearly collide with Levi.
“Watch it,” he snaps, lips curled back with irritation.
“Sorry,” I step back, giving him space. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”