Chapter 21 #2
“Two weeks for initial reconnaissance. If we find actionable intelligence, we’ll move sooner.” His mismatched eyes—one amber, one red—fix on me. “But I want experienced teams only. Volunteers who understand the risks.”
I nod, already mentally assembling the roster. “I’ll coordinate with our allies—”
“I’ll assist,” Levi interrupts, leaning closer. “Beta responsibilities are significant. You shouldn’t shoulder them alone.”
The protective tone in his voice makes my teeth clench. “I’ve been Beta for five years, Levi. I think I can manage.”
His hand finds my shoulder, fingers squeezing in what others might interpret as supportive contact. To me, it feels like a claim being staked.
“Of course,” he says smoothly. “I just want to ensure you have all the support you need.”
I force myself not to shrug off his touch, though my wolf paces in agitation. Making a scene would only give him more opportunities to play the concerned protector.
“We’ll coordinate through normal channels,” I say neutrally.
The meeting continues for another hour, covering patrol schedules, alliance communications, resource allocation.
Through it all, Levi maintains his hovering presence—adjusting maps I can reach perfectly well myself, offering opinions on decisions that fall within my purview, generally treating me like a fragile thing that needs constant care.
I catch Kier watching this display with something unreadable in his golden eyes.
When Levi leans over me to point at a location I can see perfectly well, Kier’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
But he says nothing, doesn’t challenge or interfere—just observes with the patience of a wolf who knows when to pick his battles.
By the time we adjourn, my patience is razor-thin.
“Lithia,” Ryker says as the others begin to file out. “A word?”
Kier moves to Kitara’s side as she rises carefully from her chair, offering his arm for support. “May I escort you back to your quarters?” he asks with quiet courtesy.
“Thank you,” Kitara says, accepting his assistance with a grateful smile. As they reach the door, I catch her leaning closer to him, saying something too low for me to hear. Whatever it is makes Kier’s gaze flick back to me for just a moment before he nods to whatever she’s said.
Then they’re gone, leaving just Ryker and me in the chamber—and Levi, who lingers near the door like he’s hoping to be invited to stay.
Ryker’s expectant stare finally drives Levi from the room.
“How are you really?” Ryker asks once we’re alone. “Fine. Healed. Ready to get back to work.” I organize the maps with perhaps more force than necessary. “Though apparently my Gamma thinks I’m made of glass.”
“Levi’s… protective instincts have intensified since your return,” Ryker says carefully.
“Protective?” I snort. “He’s acting like he owns me.”
“Do you need me to speak with him?”
The offer tempts me, but I shake my head. “I can handle Levi. He’ll get the message eventually.”
Ryker’s expression suggests he doubts this, but he doesn’t push. “And the nomad? Kier?”
My heart skips, though I keep my voice steady. “What about him?”
“He’s been keeping to the guest quarters. Staying out of pack business.” Ryker tilts his head. “But I sense there’s more to his story.”
“He saved my life.” I meet my Alpha’s gaze directly. “Whatever debt we owe him, it’s significant.”
“That’s not what I’m asking about.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I curse my fair complexion for making every emotion visible. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Lithia.” Ryker’s voice gentles. “You’ve served this pack faithfully for years. Your personal happiness matters to me—to all of us.”
I stand abruptly, needing distance from his too-perceptive stare. “My duty is to this pack. Nothing else matters.”
“Your parents’ death was a tragedy,” he says quietly. “But it doesn’t mean you have to live your entire life in isolation.”
“I’m not isolated. I have the pack.”
“You have a responsibility as Beta, yes. But I don’t expect you to martyr yourself. There’s a difference.”
I gather the maps, using the task to avoid his gaze. “Is there anything else, Alpha? I have patrol reports to review.”
He sighs, recognizing dismissal when he hears it. “Just… consider that maybe it’s time to let someone else carry some of your burdens.”
After he leaves, I slump in my chair, rubbing my temples against the headache building behind my eyes. Every conversation lately seems designed to poke at wounds I’ve spent years learning to ignore.
The pack needs me focused, I remind myself. Not be distracted by impossible wants.
But as I work through patrol schedules and reconnaissance plans, my mind keeps drifting to copper hair and golden eyes, to gentle hands and a voice that kept me sane in the darkness.
Two doors down, my wolf whispers. He’s two doors down the hall.
I know exactly where Kier is at any given moment—an awareness that’s grown stronger since our escape. It’s as if some invisible thread connects us across space. When he’s in the training yards, I can feel the pull southward. When he’s in the guest quarters, it’s a warm pressure to the east.
Mate bond, my wolf insists, but I push the thought away.
There’s been no claiming ceremony to judge if he’s my mate. And there won’t be—not for me.
The sun sets while I work, the council chamber growing dim around me. I switch on the lights, determined to finish the shift schedules before I rest. The work is familiar and comforting.
A soft knock interrupts my concentration.
“Come in,” I call, expecting one of my security chiefs with an update.
Instead, Levi enters carrying a tray of food. “You missed dinner,” he says, setting it on the table beside my papers. “I brought you something.”
The gesture is thoughtful, but his presumption grates. “Thank you, but I can feed myself.”
“When you remember to,” he says, pulling up a chair close to mine. Too close. “You’ve been pushing yourself since you returned. It’s not healthy.”
I set down my pen deliberately. “Levi, we need to discuss something.”
“Of course.” He shifts closer, his knee pressing against mine. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you as well.”
“Have you?” I lean back, putting distance between us. “Because I get the impression you’ve been doing more than talking. You’ve been hovering.”
His brow furrows. “I’ve been supporting you. After what you’ve been through—”
“What I’ve been through was imprisonment and torture,” I say flatly. “I know exactly what I’ve been through because I was there. I don’t need a keeper.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to be.” His hand reaches for mine, and I pull it away. “Lithia, I care about you. More than I think you realize.”
“I realize perfectly well what you think you feel,” I say carefully. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
“Doesn’t it?” He leans forward, intensity radiating from every line of his body. “I searched for you every day. Every. Single. Day.” His voice cracks slightly. “Do you have any idea what it did to me, thinking you were dead?”
The raw pain in his words makes my chest ache, but I can’t let sympathy weaken my resolve. “I’m grateful for your efforts. Truly. But—”
“I love you,” he interrupts, the words hanging between us like a bridge I’m not willing to cross. “I’ve loved you for years. I thought maybe now that you’ve seen how precious life is, how quickly it can be taken… maybe you’d be willing to consider—”
“No.” The word comes out harder than I intend, but I don’t soften it. “Levi, you’re pack. You’re family. But that’s all you’ll ever be.”
His face cycles through hurt, anger, disbelief. “Because of him, isn’t it? The nomad.”
“This has nothing to do with Kier.”
“Doesn’t it?” Levi stands abruptly, beginning to pace. “I’ve seen how you look at him. How you respond when his name comes up.”
“That’s enough,” I say sharply, rising to face him. “My personal decisions are not your concern.”
“Everything about you is my concern,” he fires back. “You think I don’t know you? I’ve watched you hold yourself apart from everyone for years. And then some random nomad shows up and suddenly—”
“Suddenly what?” I challenge. “Suddenly I’m tired of being alone?” The admission slips out before I can stop it.
Levi goes very still. “So there is something between you.”
I close my eyes, cursing my loose tongue. “It doesn’t matter what there is or isn’t. This conversation is over.”
“Like hell it is.” He moves closer, his size and presence suddenly overwhelming in the confined space. “You think you can just dismiss me? Dismiss what we could have together?”
“There is no ‘we,’ Levi. There never has been.”
“Because you won’t let there be.” His voice drops to something rougher, more dangerous. “Because you’re too scared to take a chance on something real.”
“Real?” I laugh bitterly. “You want to know what’s real? Real is watching your parents die protecting you. Real is understanding that everyone you love becomes a target. Real is choosing duty over desire because it’s the only choice that doesn’t end in heartbreak.”
“And what about what I want?” he demands. “What about my choice in this?”
“You’ll find someone else,” I say as gently as I can manage. “Someone who can give you what you deserve.”
“I don’t want someone else.” His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing over the scar that runs from temple to jaw. “I want you. Scars and walls and stubborn independence. All of it.”
For a moment, I let myself feel the warmth of his touch, the genuine emotion behind his words. Levi is good, strong, and loyal. He’s been my friend for years, someone I trust implicitly, someone I care about deeply.
But caring isn’t the same as being in love.
The realization sits heavy in my chest—not just because I can’t return his feelings, but because I finally understand the difference.
What I feel for Levi is warm, familiar, rooted in years of friendship and shared experiences.
It’s comfortable affection, the kind that comes from knowing someone completely and appreciating their worth.