Chapter 13 - Bryan
She’s been standing at the tree line for almost five minutes.
I spotted her the moment she emerged from the trail, half-hidden by the gathering darkness. She thinks I can’t see her there, watching me from the shadows like she’s trying to decide whether to approach or turn around and disappear back into the forest.
I know what she wants. I can see it in the way she keeps transferring her weight from foot to foot, in the way her hands clench and unclench at her sides.
She wants answers. The same answers she’s been demanding since the night I walked back into Silvercreek, the same ones I’ve been too much of a coward to give her.
Maybe it’s time I stopped being a coward.
“You can come out,” I call without turning my head. “I know you’re there.”
A pause. Then footsteps, soft against the fallen leaves, growing closer until she rounds the corner of the cabin and stops at the bottom of the porch steps. The last glow of evening catches the angles of her face, and something in my chest aches at the sight of her.
“How long have you known I was there?”
“Long enough.”
She climbs the steps slowly, like she’s approaching a wild animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. When she reaches the top, she doesn’t sit beside me. She just stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, looking down at me with those dark eyes.
“We need to talk,” she states. “About last night. About everything.”
“I figured as much.”
She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
I finally turn to look at her. She’s tired. I can see it in the shadows under her eyes and in the slight droop of her shoulders. She’s been carrying this weight all day, trying to make sense of what happened between us, and I’m the one who put it there.
“Sit down, Skylar.”
For a moment, I think she’ll refuse out of pure stubbornness. But then she walks to the opposite end of the porch and sinks down against the railing, putting as much distance between us as the small space allows. She draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them like a shield.
“I talked to Ruby today,” she says. “She gave me some insight as to what happened between her and James. The misunderstanding about her cat.”
“I heard that story.”
“She said secrets rot relationships from the inside. She said I deserve to know the truth about why you left, even if it’s not what I want to hear.”
“She’s right.”
“Then tell me.” She meets my eyes, and the pain I see there makes something catch in my throat. “I’ve spent ten years wondering what I did wrong. Trying to figure out why I wasn’t enough to make you stay. I need to know, Bryan. Even if it destroys me. I need to know.”
The words sit heavy in my chest. I’ve rehearsed this conversation a thousand times over the years, practicing what I’d say if I ever got the chance to explain. But now that the moment is here, all those careful speeches dissolve into nothing.
There’s only the truth. Ugly and unvarnished and long overdue.
“The night my family died…” I have to clear my throat before continuing. “You know I was with you when it happened. Down at Miller’s pond, watching the sunset, acting like we had all the time in the world.”
“I remember.”
“When the howls started, I ran. You tried to keep up, but I was faster. By the time I reached the cabin...” I stop, forcing myself to breathe through the memory that still has the power to drag me under. “I found them. All three of them. My father on the porch. My mother in the doorway. And Mira—”
The name catches in my throat like broken glass.
“Bryan, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” I cut her off before she could give me an out. “You wanted the truth. This is it.”
She falls silent, waiting.
“Mira’s window was open. She almost made it out.
” I stare at my hands, at the scars that map a decade of violence across my knuckles.
“I stood there looking at what was left of my family, and all I could think was that I should have been there. If I hadn’t snuck out to meet you, if I’d been home where I belonged, maybe I could have done something.
Maybe I could have fought them off, or at least died with my family instead of showing up after it was already over. ”
“That’s not—”
“I know it’s not logical. I know there’s nothing I could have done against a Cheslem strike team, especially not when I was that young with no training.
But logic doesn’t matter when you’re standing in your parents’ blood at dawn, looking at your little sister’s body and knowing you survived because you chose a girl over your family. ”
Skylar doesn’t try to argue or offer comfort. She just listens, and somehow, that’s exactly what I need.
“The guilt nearly destroyed me. For weeks after the funeral, I couldn’t sleep.
Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t look at anyone in the pack without wondering if they blamed me as much as I blamed myself.
” I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots until the sting grounds me.
“And every time I saw you, it got worse. Because you were the reason I was alive. You were the reason I survived when everyone I loved didn’t. ”
“So you pushed me away.”
“I pushed everyone away. But you most of all, because being near you reminded me of everything I’d lost. And because I knew what I had to do next, and I couldn’t do it if you were still in my life.”
She frowns, furrowing her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“The Black Ops agency recruited me three weeks after the attack. They’d been monitoring the Cheslem situation for months, and they needed wolves who had personal stakes in seeing them destroyed.
Wolves who wouldn’t flinch when the time came to pull the trigger.
I was the perfect candidate. Angry, grieving, and desperate to make my survival mean something.
They offered me a chance to hunt down the wolves who killed my family, and I took it without a second thought. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracks on the question. “I would have understood. I would have waited for you.”
“That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you.
Relationships with outsiders were strictly forbidden in the agency.
Too much risk of compromise and divided loyalties.
Operatives who formed attachments became liabilities.
They made mistakes. They got themselves killed, or worse, they got the people they cared about killed. ”
“So you cut me off to protect me.”
“Partly. But even if the agency had allowed it, I couldn’t have asked you to wait for me. Not when I knew what I was signing up for.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew the missions they sent me on would either kill me or turn me into someone you couldn’t love.
There was no version of this where I came home unchanged.
The things I’ve done over the past ten years, the person I’ve become.
.. That boy you fell in love with at Miller’s pond doesn’t exist anymore, Skylar.
I killed him off piece by piece during a decade of hunting and violence until there was nothing left but the wolf and the work. ”
I watch the fireflies beginning to blink in the darkness beyond the porch, giving her time to absorb a decade of secrets laid bare in a single conversation.
“I tracked Cheslem cells across three territories,” I continue, needing her to understand the full scope of what I chose.
“I put down wolves who had tortured and murdered families just like mine. Some of them begged for mercy before the end. Others tried to bargain, offering information in exchange for their lives. I listened to their offers, extracted what intelligence I could, and then I finished the job anyway.”
Skylar’s face has gone pale, but she doesn’t look away. She asked for the truth. Now she’s getting it.
“I told myself it was justice. That every Cheslem wolf I eliminated was one less monster who could destroy someone else’s family.
But somewhere along the way, the line between justice and revenge got blurred until I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
I became the thing I was hunting. A predator.
A killer. Someone who solved every problem with violence because violence was all I had left. ”
“Bryan...”
“There was another reason I rejected you,” I admit.
“I knew that if the Cheslem ever found out about you, they’d use you to get to me.
A mate is the ultimate pressure point. The one person who can make even the strongest wolf do stupid, desperate things.
I saw it happen to other operatives. Watched them compromise missions, betray allies, and throw away everything they’d worked for because someone they loved was in danger. ”
Her breath catches, and realization dawns in her eyes. “Like when they attacked us at the border.”
“Exactly like that. I spent ten years making sure no one knew you existed, making sure there was no connection between us that could be exploited. I never mentioned your name, not once. I never kept photographs or gave anyone any reason to suspect that Bryan Dinac had a weakness they could target.” I shake my head as the bitter irony of it all settles over me.
“And then I came home, and the lottery drew our names together in front of the entire pack, and suddenly, every spy Rafe had in Silvercreek knew exactly how to hurt me.”
“So you were protecting me. All this time, you were trying to protect me by staying away.”
“I was trying. I failed.” The admission burns coming out.
“I thought if I kept my distance, you’d be safe.
I thought I could carry this alone, finish the mission, and disappear without ever dragging you into my war.
Instead, I just postponed the danger and made it worse when it finally caught up with us. ”
Skylar uncurls from her defensive position and rises to her feet. For a moment, I think she’s going to walk away, to retreat into the cabin and put a door between us the way she has every night since the ceremony. But instead, she crosses the porch and stops right in front of me.
She’s close enough that I can see the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. Close enough that her scent wraps around me like a homecoming I don’t deserve.
“You’re an idiot,” she states. “A complete and total idiot.”
“I’m aware.”
“You should have told me. You should have trusted me enough to let me make my own choice about whether to wait. You should have given me the option instead of deciding for both of us what our future would look like.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have. “I’m so sorry, Skylar. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was keeping you safe. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough, because that was never… You were always—”
She reaches out and touches my face.
The contact stops my breath. Her fingers are cool against my stubbled cheek, gentle in a way that makes my heart stutter. I search her eyes for anger, for accusation, for the hatred she swore she’d carry forever.
Instead, I see understanding. Empathy for the boy who lost everything and made terrible choices in the aftermath. Recognition of the weight I’ve been carrying alone for ten years.
She sees me. Maybe for the first time since I came back, she actually sees me.
But then her hand drops away, and she takes a step back.
“I understand now why you did what you did, and I’m grateful you finally told me the truth. But understanding isn’t the same as forgiving, Bryan. And forgiving isn’t the same as trusting.”
The words hurt, but I don’t let myself flinch from them. She’s right. One confession doesn’t erase ten years of damage. One honest conversation doesn’t rebuild the trust I shattered when I walked away from her in the dark.
“I know,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “I haven’t earned it yet. But I’d like the chance to try. If you’ll let me.”
She studies my face for a long moment, and I hold myself still under her scrutiny. Let her look. Let her see whatever she needs to see. I have nothing left to hide from her now.
“I’m going to bed,” she finally declares. “Alone. I need time to think about everything you’ve told me.”
“Take all the time you need.”
She turns toward the cabin door, then pauses with her hand on the frame. Without looking back, she says, “Thank you for telling me the truth. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“It was easier than you might think. The hard part was carrying it alone for so long.”
A small sound escapes her. Not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. Something in between that makes me want to pull her into my arms and hold her until every broken piece of us somehow fits back together.
But I don’t move. Because she’s not ready, and I haven’t earned the right to offer that kind of comfort yet.
“Goodnight, Bryan.”
“Goodnight, Skylar.”
The door closes behind her, and I sit on the porch for a long time after she’s gone, watching the stars emerge one by one in the darkening sky.
The conversation replays in my mind, every word and every silence examined from different angles.
I don’t know if tonight fixed anything between us or just reopened wounds that have been festering for a decade.
But for the first time since I came home, I feel something loosening in my chest. The secret I’ve carried for ten years is finally out in the open, no longer poisoning everything it touches.
She knows now.
What she does with that knowledge is up to her.