Adrian’s voice is calm as he pushes Cameron’s unconscious body toward me.
My heart lurches as I reach out and catch him, his weight collapsing into my arms. Despite the sheer size of him—**all hard muscle and sharp edges hidden beneath tailored suits—**he feels weightless. My fingers instinctively curl around his broad shoulders, pulling him close, cradling him like something fragile.
Because to me, he is.
I planned for this. I’d prepared the wolfsbane just in case we needed to bring him back by force, a small dose hidden away in my bag. I’d hoped—desperately hoped—I wouldn’t have to use it. But when he’d almost rejected the bond, the words forming on his lips, I’d felt something cold and hollow wrap around my heart.
He might not have known, but that was one of the scariest moments of my life.
"Thanks for stopping him," I murmur, my voice quieter than I expect as I glance at Adrian.
He shrugs, ever casual. "No biggie."
But his eyes betray him. There’s something sharp lingering there—a calculation, a curiosity. He studies Cameron’s unconscious form in my arms, his gaze lingering on the way I’m holding him like he’s something precious.
Cameron’s scent floods my senses—clean, crisp, with a faint undertone of something wild, something untamed. It settles me in a way nothing else can, grounding me even as my heart races.
"This is so odd," Austin mutters, stepping closer, his brow furrowed. "Is your true mate a... human?"
"No," I reply, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from Cameron’s forehead. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, his pulse steady but faint. "He’s a wolf. His wolf is just... not like ours. It’s there. Hidden. Waiting."
Austin leans in slightly, and I feel the shift in the air—the moment both brothers sense it.
The faint, undeniable thrum of his wolf.
Buried deep, faint like an ember in ash, but undeniably present.
Adrian’s expression shifts slightly. "I suppose that’s why we got along."
I glance up at him. "What do you mean?"
He shrugs again, like it’s nothing, but his eyes are distant, thoughtful. "I don’t know. Something about him felt familiar. Like we spoke the same language, even if we didn’t know it."
I look down at Cameron’s face. His features are peaceful in sleep, the sharpness of his usual expression softened, his lips slightly parted.
"So, what are you going to do about this?" Adrian asks, crossing his arms. "Not only is he barely wolf, but he’s grown up in the human world—away from our customs, our ways."
I swallow hard, my fingers absentmindedly brushing over the faint line of his jaw.
"I don’t know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "If he had a pack, I would’ve gone to them, tried to understand him through his roots. But he’s a lone wolf, even if he doesn’t know it." I glance at Adrian. "Which means he’s part of the White Stone Pack now. I’m taking him home."
Adrian studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods once, sharp and decisive.
"Understood," he says, but his eyes gleam with something else—a flicker of calculation, the gears turning behind his cool exterior.
"I’ll handle things here," Adrian continues, shifting his stance. "You leave. And remember—you owe me one."
The words hang heavy in the air.
But this isn’t about pride.
Hours Later – On the Road to White Stone
The engine hums softly beneath us, the truck speeding down dark, empty roads, cutting through the night like a silent predator. The city lights have long since faded into the distance, replaced by the vast emptiness of open roads and the dense shadow of forests beyond.
I sit in the backseat, cradling Cameron’s head on my lap.
His dark hair is soft beneath my fingers, slightly mussed from the chaos earlier. I’ve unbuttoned the top of his tailored shirt, the crisp fabric parting just enough to reveal the strong line of his collarbone. **His skin is warm—**warm enough to remind me that he’s alive, that he’s mine.
I run my fingers through his hair gently, tracing the curve of his temple, memorizing the planes of his face—the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble on his chin.
Not just physically, though that’s undeniable.
No, it’s deeper than that—an ache in my chest, a pull I can’t resist.
They say the Moon Goddess knows you better than you know yourself—that your mate will both complement you and challenge you in equal measure. That they will be the missing piece of your soul, the part you didn’t realize was gone until it’s returned.
I think about my parents.
My father was an aggressive, dominant Alpha—all sharp edges and raw power, arrogant and quick-tempered. My mother was his opposite—timid, soft-spoken, gentle. Yet they fit together like puzzle pieces. She calmed his storms, and he protected her light.
I glance down at Cameron, his face peaceful in sleep, oblivious to the war raging inside me.
What will happen between us?
How do you convince someone to accept a bond they can’t even feel yet?
Dragged him from a world he knows, from the life he built, without his consent.
Will he ever forgive me?
I swallow hard, my thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone.
Even if he hates me for it... I can’t let him go.
The thought terrifies me. Not because I fear his anger—though that’s inevitable—but because I fear what losing him would do to me.
I lean down slightly, my forehead resting gently against his.
"I’m sorry," I whisper softly, the words catching in my throat. "I don’t know how to do this without hurting you. But I’d rather have your hate than your absence."
My fingers tighten slightly in his hair, grounding myself in his warmth.
I hope he’ll understand.
Because even if he doesn’t... he’s mine.
And I’m not letting him go.