Chapter 29
CADE
Rowan looked like a ghost at breakfast. Pale, hollow-eyed, and jumpy as if every clink of a glass was an accusation. She laughed—twisted and wrong—and it scraped down my spine like steel on stone.
Something’s eating her alive, and she’s not telling anyone.
Had last night been too much for her? I’d thought she’d enjoyed the kiss, that we were finally going to move forward with the feelings I know we both have.
But maybe I was wrong.
I shouldn’t care this much. I’ve known that from the start. I shouldn’t notice how her shoulders hunched when Iris glanced her way, or how her hands shook when she tore into a piece of bread like it had personally wronged her. But I did. I always do.
Archie tried to cover for her with mouthy distractions, but I saw through each of them. Even he was worried, sticking to her side like he was welded to her hip, as if he was worried she might disappear given the chance.
And Rowan… She bolted from the room the first chance she got. Claimed she was “just tired” and “would be right back”, but I’ve seen tired. This wasn’t it. This was fear wrapped in bravado, and I hate it.
I thought bringing up the Council whispers would give her something that she’d want to talk about, but they only made her retreat further. When I mentioned a third party, her eyes went sharp for a heartbeat—like she recognized something—and then shuttered so fast it was like I imagined it.
Maybe I should let her come to me when she’s ready. That would be the smart, patient thing to do. But I’m not patient, and whatever this is can’t be allowed to gnaw holes into both of us.
I won’t accept that.
She’ll thank you later, my wolf says. Just like with the training. It was hard at first, but she’s getting stronger with every hour.
He’s right. I need to go to her.
Instead of doing my normal post-breakfast perimeter run, I head upstairs toward Rowan’s room.
I need the truth in order to best protect her.
And if last night meant what I thought it did, I hope she’ll trust me.
Knocking on her door, I wait and listen. Archie’s claws tap against the hardwood, but it isn’t until I hear Rowan’s soft, uneven steps that some of the pressure in my chest loosens.
From the other side comes a shaky sigh. Then the door opens. “Hey.”
Archie slips out between her ankles, tail twitching, his beady eyes locking onto me like he’s trying to deliver a warning in a language I don’t speak.
Rowan’s shoulders tighten. “If you’re here to lecture me about not eating enough before training, don’t bother. I had food stashed in my room. I’ll be fine today.”
“That’s Liz’s job,” I answer, voice even. “And training isn’t more important than you right now. Something’s wrong, Rowan.” I hesitate, then force the rest out before it eats me alive. “Did I cross a line last night?”
Those last seven words burn like fire through me. If I made her feel pressured to kiss me, if she did anything unwillingly, and I didn’t notice… I’d never forgive myself.
Rowan shakes her head almost too quickly. “No. That’s not it.” Her gaze drops to the floorboards, voice softer. “Last night with you was perfect. I promise. Whatever this is.” Her hands wave over herself. “It has nothing to do with us. This is all me.”
The knot in my chest eases a fraction, but not enough. Because she’s still holding something back. I can see it in the way her hands fidget at her sides, in the shadows under her eyes.
I step closer, careful, giving her every chance to stop me. When she doesn’t, I lift a hand to her cheek. Her breath catches, then she leans into the touch, like she’s soaking in my warmth.
“What is going on with you, Rowan?” I ask quietly.
Her throat works, like she’s trying to swallow something too heavy. “I can’t…” Her eyes flick to mine, filled with a hundred things she isn’t saying. “I just can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
Her agony tears up my insides. I want more than anything for her to share this weight with me, but more than that, I need her to know that she’s not alone, and I respect her decision.
“Okay,” I say softly. “But I’m not going anywhere. If your plan is to push me away, it won’t work. Not unless you specifically tell me that you don’t want me and our bond.”
The shimmer in her eyes undoes me, but it’s what she does next that carves straight into my chest.
Rowan rises onto her toes, fingers curling in my shirt for balance as she presses her lips to mine. It’s quick, tentative, but she doesn’t retreat. When she lingers, only a breath of space left between us, I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer.
Her deep inhale says everything she hasn’t.
My mate needs me.
And if all I can give her is my touch, then I’ll give her every part of it.
I tilt her chin, claiming her mouth again, but not like last night.
This isn’t desire or need. It’s slower and softer and longing.
My tongue brushes hers with care, leaving room for her to choose the pace.
But when her fists tighten in my shirt, holding me like I’m the only steady thing left in her world, I realize she isn’t looking for control.
She’s looking for peace.
So, I give it. One arm tightens around her waist, anchoring her to me, while the other cradles the back of her head. I kiss her like a promise and that she knows how precious she is to me, even if the words don’t make it past my lips right then.
My thumb strokes her cheek, catching a tear as it slips free. The wetness knocks the air from my lungs, and I ease back just enough to see her face. “Rowan,” I murmur, voice rough, “you’re killing me.”
“I’m okay,” she says with grit, and when she smiles this time, I can almost believe her. “Whatever this is, I’ll find a way past it, I promise.”
“I want to help you.”
She shakes her head. “I need to work through this particular thing on my own.”
Something tells me that’s not necessarily the truth. With as close as Archie’s been to her this morning, I bet he knows. I look for him at her feet still—awkwardness momentarily filling me—but he’s not there. He’s back on the bed, facing away from us. At least he’s respectful.
I give Rowan my full attention again as I exhale slowly. “If you need me to let this go, I can, but if things get worse, if there’s something bothering you that I can do anything about…”
She cups my face with both hands and kisses me once more before stepping back. “You’ll be the first to know.” Her hands smooth over her body like maybe she can wipe away the evidence of her distress. “What time does training start today?”
My eyes narrow. “I think we should take today off.”
“Absolutely not.” Her arms cross over her chest, chin tilting stubbornly. “I’m making good progress, and we can’t afford any setbacks. Not with what Elias shared.”
She’s not wrong.
“Only if you’re sure, we can go whenever you’re ready.” My gaze flicks toward the door. “The others want to join us, too. They mentioned at breakfast that it’d be smart to train together. Get everyone on the same page.”
Rowan nods once, determination in the set of her jaw. “Good. Then let’s go.”
The morning air is sharp and clean when we get to our makeshift training area. The sun sits low, casting long shadows across the grass, and the chill carries the scent of determination. All of which comes from Rowan.
At least she knows what she needs in order to work through whatever is tormenting her.
She stays beside me, her shoulders squared, eyes focused like she’s daring the world to challenge her. She’s putting on a brave face, but still, I watch her closely.
Liz is already there, stretching with her favorite daggers lying on the ground next to her.
Archie is pacing in his Great Dane form—his size alone is enough to remind everyone he’s not just a decoration.
And Iris, she’s leaning against the fence, needles clicking as she knits with alarming speed.
A bright purple ball of string bobs beside her fanny pack.
“Don’t let the yarn fool you,” she says when she catches me looking. She holds up one needle, sharp as a dagger. “Emergency scarf or emergency stabbing—I’m ready for both.” She pats her pack. “I even have bandages, jerky, and glitter bombs.”
Rowan lets out a snort, the sound too short-lived but welcome all the same.
“Thought you’d change your mind,” Liz calls as we approach.
“Not a chance,” Rowan shoots back playfully, but it’s missing her normal lightness.
Still, she steps into the center of the field, planting her feet like she belongs there. Resolute. Fierce. And gods help me, so damn stubborn.
I hang back, letting her set the tone. Pushing her, one way or another, now would likely only make her dig in deeper. Knowing that, I signal to Liz to start slow. Warm-ups first, sparring second.
Rowan squares up with her friend, moving through defensive drills. Her form is sharper than it was a week ago. But her focus wavers. I can see it in the way her eyes flick, distracted, like she’s listening for something no one else can hear.
Liz feints left, and I expect Rowan to miss it, but she counters hard, putting the vampire flat on her back.
“Ouch. That was fire, girl,” Liz says, amusement lacing her voice as she bounces back up. “I like it.”
Rowan’s smirk eases some of my worry.
They continue, harder now, and I almost call for them to ease up. But before I can, Liz throws Rowan to the ground, rough enough that I swear even I feel the rattle of bones from twenty feet away.
The growl that rips from Rowan takes everyone by surprise as she reaches for the vampire, but it’s nothing compared to Liz’s hiss.
“What the hell was that, Ro?” the vampire demands, cradling her wrist and rolling away to stand.
A crackle of energy stirs the air, and everyone freezes.
Rowan scrambles up, pale and clammy, staring at her own hand like it’s betrayed her. “I—I didn’t—”
Liz rubs her arm, eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t normal.”
“No kidding,” Iris mutters, dropping her knitting into the fanny pack and striding closer. She pats the pouch with a solemn nod. “Good thing I brought duct tape. Fixes everything.”
No one laughs.
I inch closer to Rowan, but keep some distance, not wanting her to feel cornered. “Do you know what happened?”
She shakes her head, panic flashing behind her eyes. “I don’t know. It just…slipped out.”
My wolf surges inside me, restless. Because I saw the same thing last night in her eyes. Whatever this power is, it’s tied to her emotions, and it’s growing.
“Enough for today,” I say firmly, stepping between Rowan and the others before they can press harder for answers my mate either isn’t ready to give or doesn’t know how to. “We shouldn’t have been out here at all. Everyone needs a day of rest.”
But even as I speak, the unease crawling across the yard tells me this isn’t just going to vanish because I demand it or Rowan wills it away. Not when the air still hums with her power.
Rowan breaks the silence first. “I’m sorry. Cade is right. I’ve pushed too hard. I need a break. I know we don’t have time for that, but—”
I cut her off. “We have time for whatever you need.”
She nods, her chin dipping for the first time since we left her room. “Sure.”
Liz lays a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, softer now. “It’s okay. We’ll pick it up again tomorrow. Maybe just a little slower.”
We start to disperse, but I don’t miss how Iris keeps shooting Rowan sidelong glances, suspicion lurking behind the jokes, or how Archie circles her like a guard who won’t stand down.
Rowan barely holds herself together, and just when I think I might be able to whisk her away, every hope of figuring out what the hell just happened fades away.
Elias’s wolf comes speeding out of the forest, and he shifts back into his human mid-stride, eyes wild with urgency.
“The Archers are coming,” he heaves as his gaze sweeps over each of us, landing on me last. “And not just a few, Cade. Dozens of them, including pack wolves, a few vampires, and at least two council members. Each shadowed in ways I’ve never seen before.
They’re here to kill first and ask questions later. ”
The concern over Rowan dies instantly, replaced with a heavier need. The need to protect.
We’re out of time to get answers.