31

31

Adrian's POV

The wind carried the scent of pine and damp earth as I waited at the edge of the secluded forest. This part of the territory was far from the mansion, untouched by the suffocating presence of Mason's authority. Out here, the pack's whispers didn't reach, and neither did his control.

Bethany needed that.

I leaned against a thick oak, arms crossed over my chest, eyes trained on the narrow trail leading from the mansion. I could already sense her hesitation before I saw her—her scent, laced with tension and curiosity, drifted to me on the breeze.

Then she appeared.

Her figure was small against the towering trees, her posture guarded, shoulders drawn in as if bracing herself for whatever reason I'd summoned her here.

"You came," I said, pushing off the tree.

Bethany slowed but didn't stop. "Did I have a choice?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. "You always have a choice. That's more than Mason gives you."

Her eyes flickered, but she said nothing.

"Come on." I turned and began walking deeper into the woods.

She followed, though her steps were cautious.

"Why here?" she asked, voice quieter now, subdued by the looming trees.

"Because Mason wouldn't follow us here." I glanced over my shoulder. "And because there are things about this pack you need to understand."

Bethany's brows knit together. "Like what?"

I didn't answer right away.

Instead, I led her through the winding trails until we reached a clearing. In the center stood a large stone altar, weathered by centuries but still strong. Etchings covered its surface—ancient symbols of the pack, of our lineage.

Bethany slowed, eyes narrowing at the sight.

"This," I said, circling the altar, "is older than Mason. Older than any of us."

She remained still, watching me carefully.

"The pack's traditions run deep, Bethany. Heirlooms, rituals, bloodlines. They tie us together, stronger than dominance or fear." I let my hand trace over the carved stone. "Stronger than Mason's grip."

Her expression shifted, guarded curiosity softening into something more thoughtful.

"You broke an heirloom," I continued, eyes locked on hers. "That's not something easily forgiven. In this world, that kind of mistake carries weight."

Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing her face.

"But it also means you're bound to us now."

Bethany's eyes darkened. "Bound to Mason, you mean."

"No." My tone sharpened. "Bound to us. The pack. The family. Mason doesn't define that, no matter how much he thinks he does."

Her breath caught, barely audible.

I took a slow step closer.

"These symbols," I gestured to the altar, "represent every wolf that's come before us. Every bond, every betrayal. You're woven into that now, whether you like it or not."

She stared at the engravings, a flicker of something in her gaze—fear, maybe. Or understanding.

"How convenient," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

I watched her carefully.

There was something shifting in her, something just beneath the surface.

And then it happened.

Barely a flicker, but I felt it.

Her scent changed—subtle but unmistakable.

It was instinctive, primal. Her omega nature brushed against the edges of mine, tentative but real.

Bethany tensed, unaware of what she'd just done.

But I felt it.

A spark.

A bond.

My wolf stirred, muscles tightening, claws itching beneath my skin. I took another step toward her, slow and deliberate. Her breath quickened.

"Do you feel it?" I asked, voice dropping lower.

She blinked. "Feel what?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I let the moment stretch, the air between us tightening like a drawn bow.

Her instincts had reached for me without her even realizing it.

And now my instincts responded. I moved closer, closing the distance. Her pulse jumped. But she didn't move away. Neither did I.

Slowly, I reached out, fingers brushing her wrist.

Her skin was warm, her breath shallow.

"That," I murmured, eyes locked on hers, "is the bond you're trying to ignore."

Bethany froze, her lips parting in a silent breath.

But she didn't pull back.

For a long, heavy moment, we stood like that—caught between restraint and something far more dangerous.

Then, as quickly as it came, she tore her wrist free, stepping back, breaking whatever fragile thread had formed between us.

"I should go," she whispered, though her voice was unsteady.

I let her.

I watched her retreat, her footsteps light against the earth, and my wolf howled in frustration at the distance she put between us. I could feel the lingering heat of her skin, the tremor in her pulse, the pull she'd denied and I'd claimed.

But she had broken it. Torn it apart with one simple step, one decision to run from the bond that had just begun to take root between us.

I clenched my jaw, feeling the tightness in my chest. She was scared. I could smell it, taste it in the air like a bitter spice. She could tell herself she wasn't ready, that she wasn't sure about what had just happened, but the truth was simpler than that.

She didn't trust me. She didn't trust this. The world we were stepping into, where everything was more than just Mason's iron fist or the pack's loyalty.

But I could change that.

The bond had already been sparked. I wasn't going to let her pull away from it. From me.

I ran my hand through my hair, frustration coursing through my veins like fire.

She didn't understand yet, but she would.

She had to.

I wasn't just some rogue wolf that lived in the shadows. I was part of this pack. This family. And so was she. Whether she liked it or not.

I was tired of watching her play this game, pretending she didn't feel the pull between us. And tired of pretending I didn't want her more than anything in this fucked-up world.

I pushed away from the stone altar, my boots crushing the fallen leaves beneath me as I moved toward the clearing's edge. My muscles were taut with the tension of wanting to chase after her, grab her, force her to face the truth. But I held myself back.

For now.

She needed time, I knew that. But time was a luxury neither of us had.

I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes lingering on the altar. There were more ancient words carved into the stone, secrets of the pack buried deep in its cold surface.

But the biggest secret? The one I was holding back?

It was the way Bethany would never truly belong to Mason.

She was mine.

And I'd be damned if I didn't make that fact known, no matter the cost.