Chapter 10 - Connor
She’s looking at me like I’m the monster she always feared I’d be.
I can see every ounce of fury burning in her pale blue eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing is ragged, and she’s curled her hands into fists at her sides. She looks ready to take another swing at me.
Part of me wishes she would. At least then I’d know what to do.
“You had no right,” she seethes. “No right to—”
The front door of headquarters bangs open behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know who’s standing there. Nic’s presence fills the space like a physical force as his Alpha energy radiates outward, and he takes in the scene before him.
“What the hell is going on out here?” he demands. “I could hear you two from my office.”
I don’t take my eyes off Fern. Can’t. My wolf is still riding too close to the surface, still howling at me to protect her, to claim her, to make sure no one can ever threaten her again. The rational part of my brain knows I’ve already pushed too far. The animal part doesn’t care.
“Her ex may have found her,” I state. “He’s been sending threats. She’s not safe.”
Nic moves to stand beside me as his eyes bounce between us. “Explain. What kind of threats?”
“Text messages. Phone calls. Dozens of them, all saying the same thing—that he’ll find her, that she belongs to him.” I clench my hands at my sides. “He broke into her apartment two weeks ago and told her he’d kill her if she tried to leave again. That’s why she ran. That’s why she ended up here.”
Fern flinches, and something twists in my gut. I shouldn’t be airing her secrets like this, shouldn’t be laying her trauma bare in front of the Alpha without her permission. But she won’t protect herself, so someone has to.
“Is this true?” Nic asks her directly.
She lifts her chin with defiance burning in her eyes. “It’s true. But that doesn’t give him the right to drag me through the medical center like a sack of potatoes.”
“I was protecting you.”
“You were controlling me. There’s—”
Nic holds up a hand, cutting her off. “Enough. Both of you.” His Alpha authority bleeds into the words, and even I feel the pull to obey. “What exactly are you proposing here, Connor?”
“The mating ceremony,” I declare. “We need to hold it tonight.”
Fern goes rigid beside me. I can feel her stare boring into the side of my face and can practically hear her preparing another volley of arguments. My wolf braces for the fight, ready to push back against whatever objections she raises.
But the objections don’t come.
I risk a glance in her direction and find her standing with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line. She’s not agreeing, not by a long shot. The anger I feel coming off her could probably melt steel. But she’s not saying no, either.
The silence holds for three heartbeats. Four. Five.
“Fern?” Nic prompts. “This only works if you consent. The ceremony requires willing participation from both parties. If you say no, that’s the end of it.”
She doesn’t look at him, and her eyes stay locked on mine. I watch the battle play out across her features—fear and fury and something else. Something that looks almost like resignation, or maybe exhaustion. Like she’s too tired to keep fighting battles she never asked to wage.
“Fine,” she bites out. “Let’s get it over with.”
Relief and guilt crash through me in equal measure. I got what I wanted, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels like breaking something fragile that I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to piece back together.
Nic nods as he looks between us again. “I’ll make the arrangements. Luna can help gather what we need for the ceremony.” He turns to Fern and softens his voice. “There’s a guest room on the second floor where you can rest and prepare. Connor will show you.”
“I don’t need him to—”
“Nevertheless.” Nic’s tone brooks no argument. “Go. Both of you. I’ll send someone when we’re ready.”
I step toward the headquarters entrance and hold the door open as I wait for her to move.
Fern glares at me for a long moment with her jaw working like she’s biting back words she desperately wants to say.
Then she stalks past me, and she deliberately bumps her shoulder into mine as she crosses the threshold.
The interior of pack headquarters is warm and welcoming, with polished wooden floors and walls decorated with photographs spanning decades of pack history.
Pictures of former Alphas hang beside images of past mating ceremonies, pack gatherings, and celebrations, and everyday moments captured for posterity.
Fern doesn’t spare any of it a glance as I lead her up the central staircase to the second floor.
We walk in silence with her footsteps sounding behind mine. I can feel her anger like heat against my back, and my wolf whines at the distance between us. He doesn’t understand why our mate won’t let us close. Doesn’t understand why she flinches every time we reach for her.
The guest room sits at the end of the hall.
It’s a comfortable space with a queen bed covered in a handmade quilt, an attached bathroom with a claw-foot tub, and windows overlooking the forest behind the building.
Someone has already been here to prepare—fresh towels are stacked on the dresser, candles line the windowsill, and a simple white dress hangs on the closet door.
Fern stares at the dress like it’s a snake poised to strike.
“Luna probably sent it up for the ceremony,” I explain, though she didn’t ask. “Good thing she prepared early.”
“How thoughtful.” Her voice drips with sarcasm as each word comes out coated in ice.
I hover in the doorway and try to decide whether to stay or go. Every instinct screams at me to remain close, to keep watch, to make sure she doesn’t disappear out that window the moment I turn my back. But I’ve already trampled enough of her boundaries for one night. Maybe for a lifetime.
“I’ll give you some space,” I force myself to say. “Take a bath if you want. Try to relax. Someone will come get you when it’s time.”
She doesn’t respond. Just stands there in the middle of the room with her arms still crossed as she stares at that white dress like it represents everything she’s lost control of.
I pull the door closed behind me and lean against the hallway wall as my chest heaves.
The wolf inside me paces restlessly, unhappy with the distance, unhappy with everything about this situation.
He doesn’t understand why our mate is so afraid of us.
Doesn’t understand why claiming her feels more like warfare than homecoming.
I need to run. To burn off this energy before I do something else I’ll regret.
I make my way back downstairs and out the rear entrance, stripping off my clothes as I cross the tree line and leaving them in a pile beneath a familiar oak.
The transformation comes easily as my body reshapes itself in a cascade of snapping bones and sprouting fur.
Pain flares briefly along my spine and then fades as the change completes.
Within seconds, I’m on four legs, and my human thoughts give way to something simpler.
The wolf doesn’t think in words. He thinks in scents and sounds, in the feel of packed earth beneath his paws and the brush of pine needles against his flanks. He thinks in instinct, in the primal certainty of what needs to be done.
Run. Hunt. Protect.
I launch myself into the forest at full speed as my powerful legs eat up the distance and I weave between ancient oaks and towering pines.
The last traces of sunset have vanished, replaced by the silver glow of a rising moon filtering through the canopy overhead.
My nose fills with a thousand different scents—deer somewhere to the north, a family of rabbits huddled in their burrow nearby, the musty earthiness of decomposing leaves, and the crisp bite of approaching autumn carried on the breeze.
A creek cuts across my path, and I leap it without breaking stride as my paws barely touch the far bank before I’m running again. Faster now. Harder. Pushing my body until my muscles burn and my lungs ache and there’s nothing left in my head but the rhythm of my own heartbeat.
For a few blessed moments, I’m nothing but an animal. No guilt, no doubt, no second-guessing every decision I’ve made tonight. Just muscle and bone and the pure joy of movement, the simple pleasure of being exactly what I was born to be.
But even in this form, I can’t outrun my thoughts entirely.
Fern’s face keeps surfacing in my mind. The terror in her eyes when she showed me those text messages from her ex. The fury when I carried her out of the medical center against her will. The way she said fine, like she was signing her own death warrant rather than agreeing to a mating bond.
I didn’t give her a choice. Not really. I backed her into a corner and left her with only one way out, and now she’s going to bind herself to me for life because I was too desperate to think of another solution.
My wolf growls at the self-recrimination. She’s ours. We’re protecting what’s ours.
But am I? Or am I just another man trying to control her for her own good?
The comparison she drew to her ex cuts deeper than any wound I’ve ever taken in a fight.
I am nothing like him, I tell myself. But what did I do the moment she pushed back against me?
I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, threatened to carry her, and when she slapped me, I did exactly what I’d threatened—I threw her over my shoulder and hauled her away like she was property to be moved rather than a person to be respected.
How is that different from what Robbie did? How is that different from what she spent years trying to escape?
I slow to a trot and then stop as my sides heave while I catch my breath. The forest is quiet around me as the nocturnal creatures begin to stir. An owl hoots somewhere in the canopy overhead. A creek burbles nearby as the water catches the first silver glimmers of moonrise.
I lower my head and close my eyes while I try to find some clarity amid the storm inside me.
The mating ceremony will happen tonight.
Fern agreed, even if she did so through gritted teeth with hatred blazing in her eyes.
Once the bond is complete, the entire pack will recognize her as mine, and their protection will extend to her automatically.
No threat from her past will be able to touch her without answering to every wolf in Silvercreek.
That’s what I wanted. That’s what I convinced myself she needed.
So why does it feel so hollow?
Because she doesn’t want you, a voice whispers. She’s accepting you because she has no other options. Because you made sure she had no other options.
I shake my massive head while I try to dislodge the thought, but it clings anyway and burrows deeper with every breath I take.
The forest offers no answers. Just the endless quiet of trees and earth and sky, indifferent to my turmoil.
When I finally turn back toward headquarters, the moon has risen fully above the trees.
My paws carry me home at a slower pace than I left, and each step feels heavy with the weight of what’s to come.
The run helped burn off the worst of my restless energy, but it did nothing to quiet the doubt gnawing at my insides.
The transformation back to human form feels more abrupt than usual, like my body is reluctant to give up the simplicity of four legs and fur. I gather my discarded clothes from beneath the oak and dress mechanically as my mind continues turning over the evening’s events.
Fern is in that guest room right now, probably cursing my name as she puts on that white dress. Probably staring at her reflection and wondering how her life went so wrong. Soon, we’ll stand before the pack and speak the words that will bind us together for eternity.
And she’ll hate me for it. Maybe forever.
My wolf rumbles in my chest with a sound of frustration and longing all tangled together. He doesn’t understand human complexities. To him, mate is mate. Protection is love. The bond is everything.
But I’m not just a wolf. I’m a man too, and I know that what I did tonight may have saved her body while destroying any chance of winning her heart.
I climb the steps to the pack headquarters and pause at the door as I rest one hand on the worn wooden frame.
Through the walls, I can hear the sounds of preparation.
Luna’s laughter rings out somewhere inside, bright and clear against the evening quiet.
Everyone else is celebrating. Another mating, another bond, another strengthening of the pack.
I’m the only one who knows how badly I’ve broken this before it’s even begun.