Chapter 18 - Naia
Even a few days later, I’m still thinking about the way he tackled me. Rather than the impact of it or the argument that followed, I keep seeing the look in his eyes before he shifted back.
That feral intensity in them that said I wasn’t just being reckless, but I was also hurting him. Like I was his problem, and I was something he couldn’t just let go of.
And after the fact, having him so near almost broke my resolve entirely. I can still feel the shiver that ran up my spine at the fan of his breath against my neck, along with how it made me instantly react to him.
I shove the thought away as I walk through Delmont, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. All of it doesn’t mean anything, and it sure as hell can’t mean anything.
While I did say I wouldn’t leave, at least not without him, that doesn’t mean my goals have changed.
Zane is certainly an obstacle, but the bond is truly messing with things. It’s blurring lines that shouldn’t be blurred and making everything feel more charged than it needs to be. That’s all.
He doesn’t care…not really. He’s just reacting to bond and to protectiveness because of the situation and because of what I represent. It has nothing to do with me specifically.
Latching onto that thought, I ground myself with it as I move further into town, hoping for the chance to clear my head after he’s been running through it constantly.
It’s easier that way, even if the memory lingers, and even while I can still hear the way he said I’m not letting you go back alone.
My jaw tightens, feeling annoyed and infuriated thanks to the traitorous thoughts lingering in the back of my mind.
Knowing that ruminating on it won’t help me, I force my attention outward instead. Delmont is busier today, or maybe I’m just noticing more now that I’ve had some time to settle in.
Wolves move through the streets with purpose, keeping conversations low but constant as they fill each other in on the latest news. There’s a rhythm here I didn’t pick up on before, and it’s more functional…stable, even.
That alone makes something twist in my chest again, since I’m not used to how typical it seems, and it isn’t what I expected from him. From any of them. What’s even stranger is how many of them are from the same place I came from, yet they look perfectly at ease here. This has become their normal.
A few heads turn as I pass, and I feel that same wariness as before. Now, it seems more focused, like they know what I am to their Alpha. Given how fast these things get around, I imagine they do, and I don’t know how they feel about an outsider being connected to him.
I catch one of them watching me from across the street, then another, and none of them are subtle. They aren’t exactly friendly or unfriendly, but just watching me like they need to make sure I’m not some kind of plant.
I scoff under my breath and keep going, silently urging myself to relax. There’s no point in letting these people get to me.
As the irritation simmering under my skin, I pick up the pace and try to focus on anything else. This is exactly what I expected, and exactly what I knew would happen, yet it doesn’t make it any less frustrating.
I need space and some time away from the looks, the tension, and everything else.
Before long, the river comes into view, cutting through the edge of town and spilling into the surrounding woods. Thankfully, it’s quieter here and far less crowded.
While the sound of water drowns out everything else, it almost starts to feel like back home in a sense. Even if I don’t have the best memories there, those surroundings followed me for most of my life, and it’s hard to forget the comfort I used to gain from being out in the woods.
Stepping closer to the running water, I exhale slowly and crouch near the edge, letting my fingers skim the surface. It’s cold and grounding, and for a long moment, I just sit there.
I focus on my breathing and try to untangle the mess in my head. Trying to remember what I was supposed to be doing, why I’m here, and why I can’t get distracted by everything else.
Eventually, a soft sound breaks through the quiet, and I freeze instinctively. I lock in on the movement behind me, turning sharply to not leave myself unguarded, and my stomach drops.
Sera stands a few feet away, her posture immediately going rigid the second our eyes meet. Wrapped up against her chest in a light green fabric is the same bundle as before.
As my gaze flicks down, I see the small head of light-colored hair poking out, and given how quiet the child is, I can only guess it’s just a few months. Those tiny fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, and something squeezes unexpectedly in my chest.
“Fern,” Sera says flatly, like she already knows where my head is at. “Her name’s Fern.”
I blink back at her, not expecting her to say anything to me, and I clear my throat. “It’s a nice name.”
Sera nods and shifts slightly, instinctively adjusting the fabric to bring the child closer in a protective way. Remembering that I’m technically enemy number one right now, I feel the tension snap back into place instantly.
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” she says, sounding less hostile than the last time I saw her, but not exactly warm.
I huff a quiet breath. “Neither were you.”
“All the reason to leave, then.”
I push myself up slowly and keep my movements deliberate to seem as non-threatening as I can, even if every instinct in her body is telling her otherwise. A gentle breath escapes me before the words do. “I’m not here to cause problems.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, scrutinizing me. “That doesn’t change what you’ve already done.”
No, it certainly doesn’t.
I glance at Fern again. She’s quiet, and the only proof that she’s awake while wrapped up is the gentle way she touches her mother with curious fingers.
She’s too young to understand anything about this, and to know what I am or what I’ve done.
There’s something oddly comforting and reassuring about that.
I look away and try to set those thoughts aside. “This isn’t about that.”
“It’s always about that,” Sera replies.
Everything about this feels uncomfortable and like the exact opposite of what I want to be doing. I could walk away and be done with it. Maybe I should, but something keeps me there. Something that doesn’t let me just ignore it, regardless of how much simpler that would be.
“I’m sorry.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I watch as Sera stills completely, like she didn’t expect that, and doesn’t know what to do with it.
“I mean it,” I add, forcing myself to meet her gaze regardless of how difficult it seems. “For what I did back in Wraith Peak.”
Her expression hardens again. “Which part? There are a few to choose from, so take your pick.”
Flinching internally, I try to keep it hidden. “I was following orders.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know that,” I say quietly, not feeling an ounce of sympathy from her, but I force myself to keep going. “I didn’t have a choice, but that doesn’t mean you deserved any of it.”
Sera hesitates, seemingly considering what I’ve said, then she returns with less animosity, “You always have a choice.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I could’ve gone against my father’s word, and maybe I could’ve been more kind to her, especially when she was going through such a difficult time. It just didn’t seem like an option before. The tender route never did.
Frustration sparks in me, but I keep it down as well as I can. “I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I’m just…” I stop, exhaling deeply to keep myself steady. “I needed to say it.”
Sera studies me for a long moment like she’s trying to decide if any of this is real, and if I’m being genuine with her. She doesn’t say anything.
“If things were different, I wouldn’t have done that to you.”
“But they weren’t,” she says, not sugarcoating anything as she gently cradles the back of Fern’s head.
“You’re right.”
The truth sits between us, ugly, unavoidable, and beyond uncomfortable, but I don’t deny it. There’s no point now, especially not when I already know the damage I’ve caused and how it still stands to do me no favors.
“You hurt me,” Sera murmurs. “You used something you didn’t even understand against me. You and your family tried to use me just like those wolves did to you.”
The reminder makes me ache all over, and I swallow the guilt. “I know.”
“And now you want to stand here and apologize as if that fixes it?”
“I don’t think it fixes anything.”
“It’s fortunate you’re not completely delusional, then,” she mutters, turning her body just enough to create distance. “I’m not ready to forgive you, and I don’t trust you.”
“I didn’t expect you to be,” I admit, trying to ignore the subtle pain in my ribs, knowing I shouldn’t let any of this bother me. I deserve it, after all.
For a long beat, Sera just stares at me with an unreadable expression, then she nods once, deciding the conversation is over. She turns and walks away without another word, just like that.
I’m left with no resolution, very little understanding, and the kind of distance that makes me feel even more alone than I had before.
“That went well,” I mumble to myself sardonically as I rub at my temple.
It all leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, since a stupid, naive part of me thought maybe it would do something. Maybe if I put my pride aside for a moment, I might manage to change something.
Of course, it didn’t.
I listen as her steps recede, and frustration settles heavily somewhere deep in my chest.
She has every right to her anger, and every right to walk away, but that doesn’t make it easier to stand here and feel like I’m stuck in something I can’t undo. It feels like no matter what I do, it won’t be enough.
As I look toward the river again, something flutters through my awareness, and it makes me pause. It’s something internal, and something I’ve been trying to get used to. The bond.
It pulls suddenly, like a light nudge.
Zane’s voice fills my mind next.
Are you alright?
I feel the words rather than hearing them, and the direct contact nearly makes me jump out of my skin. Concern stitches within the interaction in a way I don’t want to acknowledge.
Stiffening, I realize he could feel my shift in mood. Of course he did.
“I’m fine,” I mutter under my breath, even though he can’t hear it. The bond hums again in silent question, persistent and annoying. Admittedly, more endearing than it has any right to be.
I scowl at myself anyway.
Stop that.
A moment later, he responds right back before going quiet again. No promises.
Trying to mentally block him out again, I take a deep breath and focus on my surroundings.
The last thing I need right now is him making a habit of checking on me like I’m something he needs to take care of.
Even if a small part of me doesn’t entirely hate it.