Chapter 4 - Willow
The moment I shut the door behind me, I collapse against it, lungs heaving as if the thin wood is the only thing holding me upright.
My fingers tremble so violently that I have to press them into my palms until they ache, my nails biting crescent moons into my flesh, the sharp sting pulling me out of the memory that refuses to let go.
My only consolation right now is that the group of bullies led by Sam is gone—they’d followed Thane and Warren to the pack den when their curiosity outweighed their need to use me as a verbal punching bag tonight.
But how am I supposed to be grateful for Thane’s interruption, saving me from one night of torture that won’t stop the inevitable—Alpha Grant’s orders—when his sudden appearance only unearthed memories I wish I could wipe from my mind?
To add to my unrest, I’d locked eyes with the man responsible for my current predicament—not directly, but still, what Thane did is the reason I’m in Blood Claw in the first place.
Lugging in deep breaths as the weight of my circumstance sinks me closer to the unforgivingly cold floor, my fingers still digging stinging trenches in my palms, I close my eyes in a desperate search for calm.
But all I find behind my eyelids is the projection of a scene I wish I could forget. A scene of the past.
The most embarrassing night of my life.
***
Five Years Ago
Smiling warmly as I inspect the bracelet I’d made using beads and a single pressed northern yarrow petal preserved in clear resin, I drop it into the box before closing the lid and lifting my chin proudly.
It had taken me two weeks to make the bracelet by hand, but it was worth every second leading up to tonight. Though my insides are still painfully twisted with nerves, I decide to go through with my plan because I have no reason to doubt the outcome.
At least, Thane hasn’t given me any reason to doubt it.
Simply thinking his name brings a smile to my face, and as I get dressed for the party, my resolve is strengthened, my courage reignited, until all that’s left is quiet anticipation as I head to the pack den for the party, armed with the gift I’d made for him as a token of luck for the alpha trials he’ll leave for in the morning.
The unlikely friendship between the calm soldier and an outcast like me has been going steady for a year, and despite my inhibitions, I’ve finally made peace with the fact that Thane is a good guy, with good intentions.
He might be popular and a close friend of the main alpha of Snehvolk, but he’s humble, even if he’s a promising candidate as a sub-alpha of the pack.
If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have pursued my dream of building a greenhouse in his backyard.
As we’d grown closer, he’d learned that the shy, timid girl from school was interested in botany, and urged me to use an old greenhouse behind his house and reawaken it.
It was from that moment, two months ago, when he made the offer, that I realized I had feelings for him.
Feelings that have since bloomed like the sprouts growing in the greenhouse, allowing me to see things more clearly than before. The illusion has lifted—the one that kept me insecure—and I'm certain that our friendship isn’t a coincidence.
Neither was his setting me up in his backyard.
I can't be the only one with these feelings, and tonight, on the eve of him leaving for camp, I want to express how I feel about him.
Sticking to the shadows as I make my way through the party, I find him at the back of the den, away from the crowd, leaning against the cracked bricks with one foot braced, a cigarette balanced between his fingers.
The glow of the flame of the lighter flares against the darkness, briefly lighting up the sharp lines of his jaw and the tired set of his mouth as he lights the tip.
He notices me instantly, a flicker of warm recognition in his earthy green eyes, exuding charm by simply breathing.
Then he smirks, and my heart does a strange flip, the sensation skittering down to the pit of my belly and erupting like fluttering wings of a butterfly.
He’s just existing, taking a pull from the nicotine and wolfsbane-laced stick and carding his long, dexterous fingers through the longer length of his raven-black hair.
“Last one,” he says, lifting the cigarette slightly, smoke curling between us. “Can’t exactly be the alpha’s golden boy and stink like this at camp.”
“You’re a chain-smoker, Thane. You’ll never quit,” I remark with a giggle, which cuts off abruptly when I remember the box in my hand.
My throat tightens, my hands clammy around the little box clutched like a lifeline. Stepping closer feels like stepping off a cliff, but I take the leap of faith, even when my heart pounds loud enough that I’m sure he can hear it.
“I…I made you something,” I manage timidly, clearing my throat and holding the box out with both hands.
His brows lift in mild curiosity as he pushes off the wall, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his boot.
Standing tall, he towers over me like a cloak of handsome protection in the darkness.
He takes the box carefully, like he already knows how fragile I am, and flips open the lid.
The bracelet gleams faintly under the moonlight, the resin catching the brilliant glow, the yarrow petal suspended like a promise within its glass enclosure.
A low whistle escapes him. “You made this?”
I nod, too afraid to trust my voice.
For one agonizing, fluttering moment, I think I see something in his eyes. Softness. Gratitude. Something warmer.
But then it’s gone just as quickly.
“Willow…” he whispers with a sigh, closing the lid on the box and pressing it back into my hands. “You shouldn’t have.” Those three words come out like a warning, not appreciatively, prompting me to look up fearfully.
I cling to the box, knuckles paling, my rehearsed words bubbling to the surface before I can stop them. “I wanted to. I wanted you to…to have something from me. To remember me after you’ve left for camp.”
He exhales slowly, eyes narrowing just a fraction, as if he knows where this is going.
I take the leap anyway, stepping into the space between us, tilting my face up. “Thane…I-I like you. More than just a friend. And I thought maybe…before you go….” My voice falters, heat crawling across my cheeks. “Maybe you feel the same.”
The silence that follows is brutal. He doesn’t move away when I reach for his hand, but neither does he hold mine. He just watches me, frozen, expression unreadable, and that hurts worse than if he’d laughed in my face.
Finally, he shakes his head firmly. “Willow…no.”
That single word slices through me like a lethal dagger, and all I can do is blink in disbelief, too stunned to speak.
“I can’t. You’re…you’re young, and you’re confused. You think this is something, but it’s not. I'm leaving tomorrow, and when I come back, you will have moved on. You should move on.”
“Y-young? I’m not confused,” I whisper, but my voice cracks, betraying me. Despite this, I frown. “I’m only two years younger than you. It doesn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t matter, Willow,” he cuts in abruptly, his voice sharper this time. His tone hardens, a wall slamming down between us. “Don’t make this harder. Whatever you’re hoping for, it isn’t going to happen. You and I can never be mated.”
Shame floods me, hot and suffocating. My hand slips back to my side, the box digging into my palm like punishment.
“I thought—” I murmur, but he stops me.
“You thought wrong,” he replies, a hint of irritation in his tone. “You’re nothing more than a wolfless omega. I am on my way to becoming a sub-alpha of this pack. There can never be anything between us.”
Thane’s harsh words cut through me like a sharp blade, severing my tongue’s ability to speak as my heart shatters like broken glass.
“Go back inside, Willow,” he says, turning away, reclaiming the distance I’d tried to close. He reaches for the box in his sweatpants pocket, pulling out another cigarette. “Enjoy the party. Forget this happened.”
I want to scream. To demand why. To make him see me.
But the lump in my throat is too thick, and my eyes burn too hot.
I manage one last pathetic attempt to call his name, but he doesn’t turn toward me.
All I can do is nod and stumble back toward the noise of the den, clutching the little box to my chest as if it can hold together the pieces of me he just shattered.
***
Five years, and still, the sting of that night haunts me—Thane’s eyes, hard and unyielding, his words slicing me open.
I can almost feel the coldness of that night again, the way my desperation had turned reckless.
How I’d dared to touch him, to offer myself before he left for alpha camp, hoping—stupidly hoping—that he might see me, want me.
But he hadn’t.
His rejection had been merciless, leaving me bleeding on the inside. Enough to send me running. Enough to make me choose exile over the humiliation of staying where I was unwanted.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the memory doesn’t loosen its grip. I see myself clutching the gift he declined, voice breaking as I whisper his name, and he doesn't turn back to me as though I were nothing. Less than nothing.
A sharp knock jolts me out of the memory, rattling the door behind my shoulder.
My breath catches. Here, in Seward, hesitation is punished.
I force my limbs to move, each one stiff with dread until I’m on my feet.
When I pull the door open, my stomach is in knots, bracing for the sneer of a Blood Claw guard.
But it isn’t a guard.
It’s him.
Thane Savage, standing on my threshold as if conjured by the very memory that had gutted me moments ago. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, his green eyes catching the dim light like a wild forest fire.