Chapter 12
CADE
Ihave no clue what time it is or how long it’s been since we left The Keep.
Everything has blurred together into a stretch of adrenaline and fear and stubborn forward motion.
None of us has slept. None of us has eaten.
The only thing keeping me upright is the bond tugging constantly in my chest, reminding me that Rowan is still here. Still breathing.
The first thing I do when we finally leave the room to let Jocelyn rest is carry my mate to our room.
She doesn’t argue when I take her to the shower, doesn’t protest when I turn the water on, and press a kiss to her temple before stepping away. I tell her I’ll be right back. I tell her to sit. I don’t trust my voice to do much more than that.
I grab food from the kitchen—whatever won’t feel like work to chew. Soup. Fruit. Crackers. Things she can pick at if she needs to. Things that won’t ask too much of her when she’s already given everything she has.
While Jocelyn woke up briefly, I can still see the worry lines around Rowan’s eyes, and I hate that for her. Even more, I hate that there’s nothing I can do about it yet.
We have no clue where Malrik is. He could have been at The Keep, hiding like the coward I’m beginning to think he is, but he’s clever. I’ll at least give him that.
Whatever he’s planning for my mate, it’s a game we don’t fully understand yet.
But we will.
I know that with absolute certainty.
I get back to the room and set the food down on the small table, but I don’t get to eat a single bite before the sound of Rowan crying reaches me.
My body moves before my mind catches up. I push into the bathroom and find her curled on the shower floor, knees drawn tight to her chest, water cascading over her bare back. Her head is bowed, shoulders trembling.
I strip off my shirt and pants, leaving my boxer briefs on. I need her to know I’m here for one reason and one reason only.
Comfort.
The door opens soundlessly, but still, she looks up at me.
With a smile on her face.
I stop short. “Are you okay?”
She nods, water dripping from her lashes. “My mom is alive.”
Oh, thank the gods.
These are happy tears. Exhausted ones, probably, but still.
I lower myself onto the tile beside her and pull her carefully against me, tucking her into my chest. “She is,” I murmur. “And she’s going to stay that way.”
Mate, my wolf hums, content and fierce all at once.
Skin-to-skin contact drags him closer to the surface, instinct surging, teeth and possession rising with it. I hold him back with effort, forcing my breathing to slow.
This is not the time.
This isn’t about claiming.
Except then she lifts her hand, cups my cheek, and looks at me like the world has tapered down to this moment, just for us. Like everything could end or begin right here.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I needed you tonight. More than ever. And you didn’t let me fall apart. Not once.”
Something tight and aching loosens in my chest.
“And I never will,” I promise.
Noticing a spot of something on her neck that I don’t dare identify out loud, I stand and pull Rowan up with me. She moves closer, our chests touching, when I guide her fully under the spray.
The water beats down on both of us, hot enough to steam, washing away the blood and grime and ash we carried back from The Keep. I keep my movements slow, deliberate—hands gentle as I rinse her hair, taking care of her with the tenderness I know she more than deserves.
Rowan leans into me with a sigh that sounds like surrender.
“Sorry, I know you must be exhausted,” she murmurs, eyes closed. “But not enough that you’re allowed to stop. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” I tell her quietly. “Not for needing me. Not ever.”
My wolf stirs, pleased, pressing too close beneath my skin. The bond resonates through me, steady and warm.
I tilt her chin up, making sure the water isn’t hitting her face, brushing my thumb across her cheek where tears had dried earlier. She opens her eyes and looks at me like all that matters is right here, in this small, steaming space.
“I almost broke out there,” she admits softly, kissing the back of my hand. “When I saw her scars. When I thought—”
“I know.” I hold her tighter. “I felt it.”
And I did. Our shared connection hummed with it—her terror, her rage, her refusal to give up.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “But you didn’t break.”
She laughs quietly. “I was close.”
“We all were.”
She offers me a slow smile as her hands slide up my arms, fingertips tracing paths that make my control tighten—not from desire alone, but from everything bound up inside it. Relief. Fear. Love sharpened by the knowledge that it can be taken away.
“We’ve been waiting,” she says, voice low. “Making sure that we’re not just doing things to check them off a list. Telling ourselves that the right time will present itself.”
There’s an offer forming in her gaze. One I intend to accept.
“But we’ve waited long enough,” I finish for her, kissing my way up her neck as she tilts her head.
Her fingers curl into my shoulders. “Yes.”
That single word is a promise, choice, and permission all at once.
I kiss her. Not desperate or rushed, even knowing what’s to come. Just deep and sure, like I’m sealing what’s already decided. She responds immediately, rising up on her toes, pressing closer until the last sliver of space between us disappears.
Our wolves surge, rumbles echoing from both our chests.
I reach behind us and shut off the water before leading us out of the shower. The moment we step off the tile, warmth wraps around us, drying skin and hair in a soft rush of air, the manor’s magic responding before I even notice a chill.
My hands are already sliding to her waist, guiding her back toward the bed. Somewhere between the bathroom and the mattress, she rids me of my boxer briefs. Gone without a second thought, without ceremony.
The bed takes our weight, and for a moment we just breathe, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing in time.
“The amount of preening my wolf is doing right now feels wrong,” she says quietly and with a smile.
I know what she means, but I’ve had a lot longer to learn how to ignore mine when there’s something more important to focus on.
Like my mate.
“She’ll quiet soon enough,” I promise, knowing the beast will get what she wants momentarily.
I kiss Rowan again, slower this time, reverent. Every touch feels heavy with meaning, like we’re carving something permanent into the night. Her hands roam, anchoring me to the now—to her.
I feel it the moment before she does.
The connection. The pull.
My wolf lifts his head, instincts humming, teeth aching. Not with hunger, but with completion. With the need to mark what already belongs.
Rowan’s breath stutters, and I see her own wolf settle in as her canines extend.
“Cade,” she whispers, not afraid. “Please.”
The words undo me.
I kiss the place where her pulse thrums, where warmth gathers, where the bond sings loudest. I pause just long enough to meet her eyes, to be absolutely sure she needs and wants this as much as I do.
She nods.
“Forever starts now,” I murmur against her lips.
We come together as one in every way, our bodies joining until I can’t tell where she begins and I end.
This woman has captured me, heart, soul, mind, and body. She is everything I didn’t know I needed.
She is my family, my world, my everything.
Knowing this makes what I do next one of the easiest things I’ve ever done.
My mouth closes over her neck, gentle yet intentional. A choice woven into the moment instead of stealing it. Power ripples through me the instant my teeth break skin, the bond flaring bright and whole between us.
Rowan gasps—not in pain, but in recognition—and her hands clutch at me as if she’s been waiting for this her entire life.
We both have.
She lifts, repeating my movements without an ounce of hesitation, and when she returns the bite, the world narrows. Our bond locks into place with a certainty that steals my breath. I feel her everywhere—heartbeat, breath, soul—all intertwined with mine.
Mine.
Hers.
Ours.
As the last of the power fades, what’s left behind isn’t fire.
It’s certainty.
The bond settles into my chest like it’s always belonged there, steady and unyielding. My wolf finally rests, not subdued but complete, as if our missing piece has finally snapped into place.
Rowan fits against me like this was always where she was meant to be.
Not because fate demanded it.
Because we chose it.
Because forever doesn’t start with destiny.
It starts with two people refusing to wait for the world to be kinder.
No matter what comes next, this is ours.
Unbreakable.