The wind howled through the darkened forest as Wren stepped into the clearing, her pulse thudding wildly beneath her skin. Moonlight bathed the earth in silvery glow, catching on the leaves like a thousand watchful eyes. Her cloak fluttered behind her, a shadow among shadows, as she clutched her fingers tighter around the spellstones in her satchel.
She wasn't alone.
He stood there—Cassian. The young alpha whose rejection still echoed in her bones like a curse she couldn't shake.
"You shouldn't be here," he said gruffly, arms crossed over his chest. But his eyes—those storm-gray eyes—burned into her with something darker than command. Something closer to hunger.
"I could say the same to you," she replied evenly, pushing past the ache in her throat. "You've made your choice. Remember?"
His jaw tensed. "And yet, here you are—still in my territory. Still risking everything."
"I'm not your concern," she snapped.
And gods, she wished that were true.
Cassian's gaze swept over her—first with resentment, then something gentler, more human. "You're always my concern."
There was a beat of silence, thick as fog.
Then a crack of magic shimmered in the distance—dark, familiar, cold. Veylan stepped from the treeline, silent as smoke, his golden eyes glowing in the dark.
Cassian's posture stiffened like a predator sensing another alpha. "Why is he here?"
"He's helping me with my magic," Wren said simply, feeling the sudden shift in the air like the brush of flint against steel.
"Helping you?" Cassian scoffed. "Is that what you call it?"
Veylan tilted his head, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips. "You had your chance, wolf. You wasted it."
"Veylan—" Wren warned.
But Cassian was already moving, closing the distance with a speed that turned the air electric. "Don't talk to me like you know anything about this."
Veylan didn't flinch. "I know enough to see what you threw away. And what you're still too proud to admit you want."
Wren stepped between them, palm raised, magic tingling across her skin. "Enough. Both of you."
The tension between the two was palpable, but it was the way Cassian looked at her that undid her next breath—raw, tortured, possessive.
"You're mine," he murmured, voice low. "I know I said otherwise, but—"
"No," she cut him off, stepping back. "You don't get to say that now."
His hands trembled at his sides, as though he were holding himself back from touching her. "Then tell me this, Wren. Do you want him?"
The question hung in the air like a blade.
Her lips parted, but no answer came.
Because the truth was complicated. Veylan had been her anchor these past weeks. Gentle, understanding. He saw her for what she was and never looked away. And yet… part of her still burned whenever Cassian looked at her the way he just had.
"Go," she said at last, voice trembling. "Both of you. I need space."
Neither of them moved.
Instead, Veylan stepped forward, his fingers brushing against hers. "You don't have to choose. Not now. But know this—my loyalty isn't conditional."
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. A brief, searing touch that made her close her eyes.
When she opened them, Cassian was gone.
The next morning, Wren stood at the edge of the riverbank, watching the water ripple beneath a sky slowly brightening. She tried to ignore the way her skin still tingled where Veylan had touched her. Or the way Cassian's voice haunted her dreams.
Everything was getting messier.
Footsteps approached, and she didn't turn until a warm presence stood beside her.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Veylan asked.
She shook her head. "I don't think I will for a while."
They stood in silence, but it wasn't awkward. If anything, it felt… grounding.
"You don't have to run from what you feel, Wren," Veylan said, eyes on the water.
"I'm not sure what I feel."
"You will," he said. "In time."
His hand brushed hers again. This time, she didn't pull away.
Later that evening, she returned to her cottage. The shadows inside were thicker than usual, and she knew why.
Cassian was there.
"Wren," he said, voice hoarse. "I needed to see you."
She didn't reply. Just stared.
"I messed up," he said. "I was scared. Of you. Of what it meant to be mated to a witch. Of what the others would say. But the truth is… I still feel it. The bond. The pull. Every time I see you with him, it rips something out of me."
Her throat ached. "Then why didn't you fight for me?"
"I thought pushing you away was protecting you."
"And now?"
"Now I realize I was protecting myself."
She stepped toward him slowly, until they were inches apart.
"There's no going back, Cassian."
"I'm not asking to go back. I'm asking to go forward. With you."
He reached out, his hand resting over her heart. And when she didn't stop him, he leaned down and kissed her—soft, aching, full of things neither had said.
And gods help her, she kissed him back.