CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The rain had ended sometime before dawn, but the forest still held it.
Water clung to every leaf, dripping steadily onto the narrow trail that wound through the hills between Blackwater Ridge and Silver Ridge.
Fallen branches littered the ground where the storm had passed, and the earth beneath their boots had turned soft enough to swallow footprints almost as quickly as they appeared.
Their horses could go no farther.
A landslide had carried part of the mountain path into the river below, forcing the group to continue on foot until they reached safer ground. Damon stayed behind with two guards to help clear another route while Lucien and Iris followed the old ranger trail with the remaining escort.
According to the map, it should have taken only a few hours.
The forest had other plans.
A steep stretch of uneven rock slowed everyone to half their normal pace. Moss covered the stones, hiding slick patches beneath blankets of green, and exposed roots twisted across the trail like natural traps.
Lucien glanced over his shoulder.
"You all right?"
Iris nodded.
"I've crossed worse."
"I remember."
"So do I."
Years ago, they had spent nearly every spring exploring the mountains surrounding Silver Ridge. Iris always insisted the roughest trails led to the best views.
Lucien had learned she was usually right.
The memory almost drew a smile from him.
Almost.
They climbed another hundred yards before one of the guards called from ahead.
"The bridge survived."
Relief spread quietly through the group.
The narrow wooden bridge marked the halfway point through the forest.
Once they crossed it, the trail became easier.
Lucien stepped aside, allowing Iris to walk ahead of him across the weathered planks.
She had nearly reached the opposite side when the wood beneath her right foot shifted unexpectedly.
The sharp crack echoed through the trees.
One plank split clean through.
Her foot slipped into the opening.
She caught herself before falling completely, but the awkward twist sent her hard against the bridge railing.
Lucien reached her in seconds.
"Iris."
"I'm fine."
She tried to pull her foot free.
The movement stopped almost immediately.
Pain crossed her face before she could hide it.
Lucien crouched beside her.
"Don't."
"It's only twisted."
"You don't know that."
One of the guards hurried forward to help lift the broken plank away.
Once her foot was free, Iris carefully tested her weight.
She managed one step.
The second made her catch her breath.
Lucien noticed.
"So did I."
She looked almost annoyed that he had.
"It's nothing."
"It isn't."
She straightened her shoulders.
"We still have miles to go."
"We do."
"So let's keep moving."
She took another step.
This one was slower.
The next slower still.
Lucien walked beside her without speaking.
He knew that expression.
She wasn't trying to prove anything.
She simply hated becoming someone else's burden.
For the next half hour she refused every offer to rest.
Whenever the trail leveled, she walked almost normally.
Whenever it climbed, the limp returned.
She believed she was hiding it.
She wasn't.
Eventually the path narrowed between two rocky slopes where the guards moved farther ahead to scout the next crossing.
Only Lucien and Iris remained behind.
He stopped walking.
"So."
She looked at him.
"So."
"You can't keep pretending."
"I'm walking."
"Barely."
"I'll manage."
"I know you will."
She blinked.
The answer hadn't been what she expected.
"I've never doubted your strength."
His voice stayed calm.
"I doubt your ankle."
She looked away.
"I don't want to slow everyone down."
"You already are."
The words could have sounded cruel.
They didn't.
They sounded factual.
She sighed.
"I just need another minute."
Lucien watched her carefully.
Then, without another word, he set down his pack.
He loosened the straps across his shoulders.
And quietly turned his back to her.
He lowered himself onto one knee.
The movement was so familiar that Iris forgot where she was.
Forgot the forest.
Forgot the years between them.
Forgot everything except one impossible memory.
She was twenty.
They had walked nearly twelve miles through the western hills chasing wild horses because Lucien insisted he knew a shortcut.
He hadn't.
By sunset her feet hurt so badly she announced she would simply live on the mountain forever because walking home sounded unreasonable.
Lucien had laughed.
Then crouched exactly like this.
"Get on."
"I can walk."
"I know."
She had climbed onto his back anyway.
Not because she couldn't keep walking.
Because he wanted to carry her.
The memory struck with painful clarity.
Iris looked at the man kneeling before her now.
His hair carried more silver than it once had.
Responsibility had carved quiet lines around his eyes.
But in that moment...
he looked exactly like the young Alpha who used to steal her away from celebrations just to make her laugh.
"I can still walk."
He nodded.
"I know."
The same answer.
The same quiet certainty.
"You don't have to do this."
"I know."
She stared at him.
"You remembered."
"I remembered everything."
The words settled somewhere deep inside her.
Not because they were poetic.
Because they were true.
Lucien waited patiently.
Never rushing her.
Never asking again.
At last, Iris stepped forward.
Very carefully, she rested her hands against his shoulders.
He slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back before rising smoothly to his feet.
It felt impossibly familiar.
Almost frighteningly so.
She hadn't been carried by him in years.
Yet her body remembered exactly how naturally she fit against him.
Neither of them spoke.
The forest filled the silence with birdsong and the distant rush of water.
Lucien adjusted his grip once to keep her comfortable before continuing along the trail.
His pace remained steady.
Unhurried.
Certain.
Iris rested her forehead lightly against his shoulder.
She told herself it was because the movement hurt less that way.
She knew she was lying.
She closed her eyes.
Another memory surfaced.
A winter festival.
Snow falling in thick white flakes.
She had complained that her boots were soaked.
Lucien had lifted her without warning and carried her the rest of the way home while she argued the entire time that people were staring.
"They're jealous."
"They're laughing."
"Same thing."
She had laughed until her cheeks hurt.
Now...
there was only quiet.
Lucien never asked whether she was comfortable.
He simply shifted his hold whenever the trail became uneven.
He still knew.
Tears gathered before Iris realized they were coming.
One slipped silently down her cheek.
Then another.
She wasn't crying because her ankle hurt.
She wasn't crying because the journey had become difficult.
She was crying because, for the first time in years, she didn't feel like someone who needed to earn care.
She wasn't being managed.
She wasn't being accommodated.
She wasn't another responsibility added to an endless list.
She was simply...
being loved.
Lucien felt the dampness against his shoulder.
He didn't turn around.
He didn't ask why she was crying.
He already knew enough not to interrupt whatever was happening inside her.
The trail stretched on through towering pines and patches of afternoon sunlight.
Mile after mile passed beneath his boots.
His breathing gradually deepened.
Sweat dampened the back of his shirt.
He never slowed.
When the escort finally stopped beside a clear stream to rest, one of the guards hurried toward them.
"Alpha, we can make a stretcher."
Lucien shook his head.
"No."
"It's still another hour."
"I know."
The guard looked uncertain.
Lucien smiled politely.
"I've got her."
Nothing more needed to be said.
He continued walking.
Iris kept her eyes closed.
Not because she was sleeping.
Because she wanted to remember exactly how this felt.
The warmth of his shoulder beneath her cheek.
The steady rhythm of his steps.
The quiet certainty that, for this one stretch of road, she didn't have to carry herself.
She let herself lean into him.
Just this once.
And for the first time since leaving the Alpha House, home no longer felt like a place.
For a few precious miles...
it felt like the person carrying her.