Chapter 23
Nadia
I make it to the end of the corridor before my legs start shaking. Not fear. Not weakness. Just the physical cost of walking away from something my body is demanding. Every step away from that office feels like moving against a current trying to drag me back.
I don’t go back.
Can’t.
My hands clench into fists. When I look down, my nails have lengthened into sharp points. Not fully claws, but threatening. I force them back with effort that makes my jaw ache.
The stairs. I take them instead of the lift. Need the physical exertion. Need to burn off the energy crawling beneath my skin like insects.
My wolf surges. Not gentle. Violent enough that I stumble on the landing. She throws herself against my control, snarling fury and grief and the overwhelming sense of wrong wrong wrong that makes my vision blur.
I grip the railing. Breathe through it.
My eyes are burning. When I catch my reflection in the stairwell window, they’re pale green bleeding to platinum. My wolf trying take over and go back and fix what I just broke.
I blink hard. Reach for the human in me; it’s a struggle. By the time I reach my quarters, I’m shaking badly enough that it takes three tries to unlock the door.
Inside. Door closed. Safe.
Except I don’t feel safe. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams.
I cross to the window. Stare out at the mountains. Aurora’s territory stretches in all directions. This is home. Has been for years. Safe. Familiar. Mine.
Except now it feels contaminated. Everywhere I look, I’m aware of him somewhere in this building.
The briefing room flashes through my mind. Walking in. Seeing him standing near the tactical display. Professional. Controlled. Every line of his body radiating military discipline.
For half a second, when our eyes met, I wanted to go to him. Wanted to acknowledge what happened. Wanted to see if he felt even a fraction of what I was feeling.
Then he looked away.
Cold. Deliberate. Cut me off completely like I didn’t exist. Like the night before never happened.
That hurt.
My wolf surges again. Harder this time. My hands grasp at the window ledge, and this time, I can’t stop the transformation. Claws fully extended. Scraping stone. Leaving marks.
No. The word isn’t verbal. Just overwhelming sensation. Wrongness. The bone-deep certainty that I’ve made a catastrophic mistake.
“Stop,” I say out loud. Speaking to her. To myself. To the empty room.
She doesn’t stop. Just keeps throwing herself at my control. Showing me images. Memories. His hands on my skin. His teeth on my shoulder. The way he looked at me right before—
The guilt hits then. Crushing weight that makes my knees buckle. I sink onto my bed. Bury my face in my hands.
I had sex with Chance’s killer.
I can’t get that thought out of my head.
Chance and I were bonded. Soul mates. Years together. Years of happiness and partnership and love that was supposed to last forever.
Then Jericho gave an order and Chance died and I spent years drowning in grief so profound I thought it would kill me.
And I threw it all away in one night.
My wolf rejects this violently. Not words. Just raw emotion. Images that aren’t memories—Jericho’s eyes going cold when I said I didn’t need him. The hurt beneath his control. The way something shut down in his expression before the mask fell.
She shows me what I did. Makes me see it. Makes me feel it.
“He killed Chance,” I say. Need to hear it spoken. “I can’t just forget that. Can’t forgive it.”
The response is physical. My fangs elongate. My eyes burn. Heat floods my system that has nothing to do with the cycle that ended this morning.
She’s furious. Not at Jericho. At me. For lying. For denying. For pushing away what she knows with absolute certainty.
A knock at the door startles us both.
My fangs retract. Eyes fade back to green. I stand and try to compose myself.
Another knock. “Nadia? It’s Ember. Can I come in?”
I should say no. Should tell her I’m fine and need to be alone.
“Yeah,” I say instead. “It’s open.”
The door opens. Ember steps inside. Takes one look at me and stops.
“You look like hell,” she says. Direct. blunt. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
She closes the door behind her. Crosses her arms. “You’re not fine. Your eyes are still shifting. Your hands are shaking. And you smell like—” She stops. Her expression changes. “Dragon. You smell like dragon. Even more than before.”
My face heats. “It’s not—”
“Jericho.” Not a question. She’s putting pieces together. “Something happened between you two.”
I want to deny it. Want to deflect. Want to maintain the lie I’ve been telling everyone.
“Yes,” I say instead. Too tired to lie anymore.
She studies me. Then moves to sit on the edge of my bed. Pats the space beside her. “Talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Nadia. You’re about three seconds from shifting involuntarily. Your wolf is trying to claw her way out. And you smell like you’ve been crying even though your face is dry. Talk.”
I drop down beside her. Stare at my hands. Try to find words.
“We slept together,” I say finally. “Last night. In the training facility. I— My wolf took over. Heat cycle. It just happened.”
“Okay.” Ember’s voice is carefully neutral. “And?”
“And I told him it was nothing. That it was just biology. That now that the cycle’s over, I don’t need him anymore.”
Silence. Then: “Is that true?”
“Yes.” It’s a lie.
“Nadia.”
I look at her. See understanding in her expression. See the way she’s reading me with dragon instincts that cut through bullshit.
“No,” I admit. “It’s not true.”
“Do you still want him?”
The question is simple. The answer should be simple.
“Yes,” I whisper. “And I hate that I do.”
“Why?”
“Because he killed Chance. Because wanting him feels like betraying everything Chance and I had. Because—” My voice breaks. “Because my wolf says he’s our mate and I don’t know how to want the man who destroyed my life.”
Ember is quiet for a moment. Then: “The heat cycle ended. When?”
“This morning.”
“And you still want him.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not biology, Nadia. That’s a bond.”
“I know.” The admission hurts. “I know, and it terrifies me.”
My wolf surges in approval. Finally. Finally admitting the truth.
“What did your wolf say?” Ember asks quietly.
“She’s been howling ‘mate’ since we met him. Since before the heat even started. She’s furious I pushed him away.”
“What are you afraid of?”
The question hits hard. Direct. Forcing me to examine what I’ve been avoiding.
“That he’ll destroy me,” I say. Raw honesty. “That I’ll let myself have this and he’ll—” I can’t finish.
“Leave? Betray you? Hurt you the way losing Chance hurt?”
“Yes. All of it. I can’t survive that again.”
Ember reaches over and covers my hand with hers.
“My mother defected from the Syndicate,” she says. “A lot of people doubted her at first. Thought she couldn’t be trusted. That she’d betray Aurora eventually.”
I know this story. Vanya is one of Aurora’s most trusted operatives now.
“But she didn’t,” Ember continues. “She proved them wrong. Earned trust. Became part of the Collective. Sometimes people surprise you. Sometimes the thing that seems impossible is actually the only thing that makes sense.”
“He killed Chance,” I say again. Need her to understand. “How do I reconcile that? How do I let myself want him, knowing what he did?”
“I don’t know.” Honest. “I don’t have that answer. But I know heat cycles don’t lie. If your wolf recognized your mate, there’s a reason. Even if you don’t understand it yet.”
“What if I’m wrong? What if I destroyed something real because I was scared?”
“How did he respond to you today? In the briefing?”
I remember. That half-second when our eyes met. The way I wanted to reach out.
“He looked away first,” I say. “Cut me off before I could—”
“Maybe he was protecting himself, too,” Ember suggests. “Maybe he’s as terrified as you are.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to me. That maybe his coldness wasn’t rejection. Maybe it was defense. Maybe he was barely holding himself together, the same way I am.
“He didn’t fight when I said it was nothing,” I point out. “Just accepted it and went cold.”
“What else was he supposed to do? You told him you didn’t need him. That it meant nothing. Why would he fight that?”
“Because—” I stop. Don’t have an answer.
“Because you wanted him to fight for you?” Ember’s voice is gentle. Not accusing. “You wanted him to prove it mattered to him, too?”
“Maybe.” Probably. “I don’t know what I wanted.”
“What do you want now?”
“I want to not feel like I’m breaking apart,” I say quietly. “I want to not smell him everywhere. I want to not hurt every time I think about the look on his face when I said—” I stop. Can’t finish.
“You want him,” Ember says simply. “The heat is gone, and you still want him. That’s a mate bond, Nadia. That’s real.”
“I’m terrified.”
“I know.” She squeezes my hand. “But maybe being terrified is better than spending the rest of your life wondering ‘what if.’”
She stands. Crosses to the door. Stops before opening it.
“For what it’s worth,” she says, “I think Chance would want you to be happy. Even if that means moving on. Even if that means choosing someone unexpected.”
Then she’s gone. Door closing softly behind her.
I sit in the silence. My wolf is quieter now. Still insistent but patient. Like she knows Ember’s words are working through my defenses.
The heat cycle is over. Completely over. The biology that drove me to him is gone.
The want isn’t.
The pull isn’t.
The ache when I think about him isn’t.
That’s not heat. That’s a bond.
My wolf shows me the truth I’ve been denying. Not words. Just certainty. Just recognition that goes deeper than thought or logic or fear.
Mate.
I close my eyes. Let the truth settle.
I pushed him away because I’m terrified. Because I don’t know how to want him without betraying Chance. Because I don’t know how to risk my heart again when losing it the first time nearly destroyed me.
But maybe Ember’s right. Maybe being terrified is better than wondering what if.
Maybe it’s not too late to fix what I broke.
Maybe.
My wolf settles completely. Satisfied that I’m finally listening. Finally acknowledging what she’s known all along.
I don’t know what happens next. Don’t know how to bridge the gap I created. Don’t know if Jericho even wants me to try.
But I know I can’t keep lying. Can’t keep denying what this is.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do.
Tonight, I just sit in the dark and try to accept that my wolf chose the one person I never thought I could forgive.
And maybe that’s exactly the point.