Chapter 3
Rowen
The Hollow felt wrong.
Not broken. Not bleeding.
Just…off.
Like returning home and knowing you’d locked the door when you left, only to find the door was still open. That kind of wrongness—that nagging feeling you couldn’t shake.
I walked the path toward the druid’s tent with Wolfe’s presence vibrating gently through the bond. He was getting battle-ready; he was pretending he wasn’t, but he forgot I could feel him now more than ever since the mate bond completed.
My mate was burning hot with fury.
And beside that fury was this other new feeling. I could feel the land tugging at me as I walked. I was wearing soft leather boots, but it felt like I was walking barefoot. I could feel it beneath me—an insistent pulse beneath the soil, through my bloodstream like a second heartbeat.
I hadn’t felt this yesterday.
“Are you sure you want to go alone?” Wolfe asked through the bond, and I knew he must have felt my uneasiness.
“If you come, you’ll growl the whole time, and the tent might spontaneously combust,” I teased him.
I could feel his snort through the bond. “I’m always close.”
“I know.” I felt the caress, even through the bond, and the whisper of a promise of later.
I smiled even though he couldn’t see me, recalling how gentle he was with those young ones earlier.
Adair and I always checked in with the young ones.
They rotated through the pack; offers had been made to one or the other to have a more permanent place, but they wouldn’t be separated.
I thought it was because they wanted to stay together, but now I wasn’t sure if it was because the right offer of home hadn’t been made.
I’d seen the way Ciara snuggled into Brand. Heard Fitz’s laughter as Killian threw him on his back like he was nothing more than a backpack. Saw the light in my husband’s eyes as he cradled Lake in the crook of his arm.
Seeing their gentleness with them today, I felt uneasy as I thought about how I’d misjudged them when they first came here. I’d been ready to kill Killian a few times myself. Brand was intimidating, and Diesel…well, the less said about our initial meeting, the better.
Now they were the ones who were fighting for Blueridge Hollow as fiercely as, if not more than, my pack. In quiet moments like this, I didn’t know what to do with that.
I’d been wrong.
I hoped they knew now that I trusted them all, and that they trusted me in turn. It still stung to think Wolfe had thought I was acting against him, but in truth, I’d given him the room to doubt.
The druid’s tent stood exactly where it always did—weathered canvas, bone charms clinking softly in the breeze, that faint smell of sage and something older curling around the entrance. Strange but familiar. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze.
The air felt as if it were trembling. Not visibly. Not magically. Just…deeply. Like the Hollow itself was exhaling. The druid turned before the flap even closed behind me. Their head dipped once, in something that wasn’t quite a bow but wasn’t a sign of disrespect either.
“You felt it,” they said simply. Their eyes narrowed as they considered me. “Are still feeling it,” they mused. “Interesting.”
I swallowed. “Because of the decree?”
“Probably.” Their eyes darkened with something ancient. “Or the Hollow itself.”
My pulse stuttered. “What is it feeling?”
“Violation,” the druid said. “Intrusion.” Their gaze flicked to the ground as if they could hear the soil itself whispering. “The Pack Council’s decree was an attempt to strip it of identity. To sever you from it.”
My breath caught. “And can they do that?”
“They believe they can,” the druid murmured. “They believe a scroll of paper and a press of metal to molten wax silences a land older than any of their bloodlines.”
Anger surged in my chest, hot and sharp. “They just declared my pack dead—declared this place dead. And you didn’t warn us. You didn’t say a word.” I shook my head in disbelief. “You knew this was coming long before today.”
The druid stepped closer, their expression infuriatingly calm. “If I had warned you, would you have gone to Wolfe’s side? To the mating? To the bond?”
My jaw clenched. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” Their voice softened. “You were not ready to feel the Hollow. Not then. Not until you were anchored.”
Anchored? To Wolfe. To the mate bond. To this land, finally waking under my feet.
“I am not a ship lost in a storm,” I told them sharply.
I exhaled shakily. “I didn’t need to be anchored to a man.
I’ve been here all my life.” I crouched down, my fingers pressing into the rugs that covered the ground.
“Did it really only need Wolfe to be my mate?” I looked up at the druid. “What if he never came?”
The druid huffed out what could have been impatience or amusement. “He was always meant to return.”
I wondered if Wolfe knew that. I doubted it. “It feels…loud.”
“Yes,” they said. “Because it feels what you feel. Rage. Fear. Defiance.” Their eyes narrowed slightly. “But beneath that—claim.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “Claim?”
“The land recognizes that you are the daughter of the Hollow. And it recognizes Wolfe as a guardian of the Hollow. The decree was an insult to both truths. The Hollow responds accordingly.”
I rubbed my fingertips along my forearm, the skin prickling. That strange tug in my chest pulsed again—subtle but insistent. “What does it want me to do?”
The druid’s lips curved faintly. “Stay standing.”
I blinked. “That’s it? Stay standing?”
“For now,” they said. “This is not the moment for ritual or confrontation. The land is stirring, but it has not chosen to act. It listens. It watches. Through Wolfe as alpha. Through you.”
My stomach twisted. “That feels like pressure.”
“Does it?” They looked me over once. “Or is it purpose?” the druid asked gently. “Purpose often feels like weight.”
I stared at them, frustration knotting in my throat. “You always speak in riddles. Just tell me what you’re not saying.”
The druid folded their hands. “If the Pack Council succeeds in dissolving Blueridge Hollow, the land will retaliate. Quietly at first. Then…not quietly.”
The land would retaliate? Cold swept down my spine. “Retaliate how?”
“With imbalance,” they said. “With unrest. With wolves losing themselves to instincts sharper than their minds. With storms born from old fury.” Their gaze lifted to mine, steady and unflinching. “The Hollow has been subjugated before. It remembers.”
Each word of warning felt like stones settling on my ribs, restricting my lungs from expanding. “You mean…this has happened before?” I whispered.
The druid nodded. “In another age. With another Pack Council. And the aftermath was…severe.”
The Hollow thrummed beneath my feet, like it recognized the memory even if I didn’t. I braced my hands on my knees, breathing through the sudden heaviness. “What do I do with this? With all of this?”
“Feel it,” the druid said. “That is your role. To listen to the Hollow when others ignore its cries. To stand with it when the Pack Council tries to sever what cannot be severed.” They reached out, fingertips brushing the air near my shoulder but not touching me.
“You were born among the roots of the Heartwood, Rowen. This land remembers you. Do not fear its voice.”
I stood slowly, that tug under my ribs tightening like a tether. I heard what they were saying. The Hollow wasn’t just reacting.
It was…calling.
Calling me.
“Will it get stronger?” I asked.
The druid tilted their head. “The closer the Pack Council comes, the louder it will scream.”
Holy Goddess, I was not the person for this job. I wished Wolfe were here. My breath hitched. “That doesn’t sound protective.”
“It is not your protector,” they said softly. “You and Wolfe are its.”
The words stole my breath. Before I could respond, Wolfe’s voice drifted from outside—steady, low, infused with patience he didn’t actually possess.
“Rowen?”
“I’m here,” I called.
The druid watched me with something I couldn’t read—respect, worry, ancient calculation. “Tell Wolfe this,” they said. “Dominion is not conquest. It is responsibility. And responsibility demands unity.”
I frowned. “He already knows we’re united.”
The druid’s gaze sharpened. “I did not mean with you.”
Before I could ask what the hell that meant, they walked past me, opening the tent flap to let me out. Wolfe stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, watching the tent like he’d rip it open if I took a second too long.
He reached for me through the bond. Warm. Steady. Holding.
“You do not come into the tent today,” the druid said as they watched him. “You no longer need my counsel, Alpha?”
Wolfe smiled, and it actually looked genuine. “Not in the mood for riddles today.”
The druid smirked. “But riddles are all I have, Alpha.” They ducked back inside their tent, the flap closing softly behind them.
“Well, did you get answers? What did they say?” he asked.
I exhaled. “A lot. And not enough.”
He stepped closer. “You okay?”
“No,” I admitted. “But that feels…right. For today.”
His fingers brushed mine, gentle and grounding. “We’ll handle it.”
The Hollow pulsed once under my feet, as if agreeing.
I squeezed Wolfe’s hand. “The druid says the land is reacting to their claim. And that it’s only going to get louder.”
“Good,” Wolfe growled. “Let it be loud. Let it be furious.”
The land felt as if it surged at his words. Maybe my volatile mate was not the best alpha to be connected to a hungry land ready to fight. “Don’t make it worse,” I whispered.
“This land will not hurt you, my mate.” He dipped his head, his lips brushing against mine. “We’re not breaking. They are.”
I clung to that. To him. To the land throbbing beneath us like a promise and a warning both.
“Do you feel it?” I whispered, breath catching on the edge of what suddenly felt like destiny tightening around us.
His hand slid to the back of my neck. “I do.”