Chapter 119 – Still Here
Rowan sat back in the rocking chair, the worn wood creaking beneath him as the gentle breeze carried the scent of blood, ash, and pine across the pack grounds. The porch had become his island—a quiet place just removed enough from the waves of grief crashing through the courtyard. His body still ached with each breath, his ribs pulling tight with the remnants of cracked bones, but it was nothing compared to the agony he'd felt earlier.
Avella’s poultice had stopped the bleeding, sealing torn flesh and coaxing the slow stitching of his skin so his wolf could finish what magic could not. His bones weren’t fully mended yet, but the pain was dulled now, just a background throb that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
And still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Giselle.
She moved through the mourners like she belonged to each of them. Her voice was quiet and kind, her arms open and steady as she embraced the shattered women, the weeping children, and even the stoic elders whose eyes betrayed the sorrow they fought to hide. Each person she knelt beside, each hand she clasped or tear she brushed away, she gave them all of herself.
And every few minutes, without fail, her gaze would lift and find him.
Their eyes would meet across the distance—just a heartbeat of connection—and he could feel her grounding him. The warmth in her look. The unspoken *I’m still here. You’re still here.*
Pride swelled in his chest like a wave threatening to crash through his ribs. She had nearly lost him. He had nearly lost her. And yet, there she stood—stronger than ever. A true Luna. Not because she bore the title, but because she carried the weight of their people without flinching.
She was light, even now—especially now.
He felt the corners of his mouth lift as she knelt beside a young boy, no older than ten, who clutched a shredded tunic stained with blood. She spoke softly, wiped his tears, and gave him something to hold on to—something no one else could have offered in that moment.
His chest ached again, but not from injury.
‘Alpha.’ The word slipped into his mind like a ripple in a still pond—Beta Kalen’s voice, low and urgent, breaking the quiet reverie.
Rowan blinked, pulling his gaze from Giselle as his senses sharpened.
‘Kalen?’ he sent back, pushing the word through the mental link.
‘Merek is at the border,’ came the immediate reply. ‘He’s bloodied, battered, but alive. He’s asking to speak with you. Personally.’
Rowan stiffened in the chair, a sharp twist of pain running through his abdomen as he leaned forward. His instincts flared, half-ready to rise, half-reminding him he was in no condition to fight if this was a trap.
But Kalen wouldn’t have come to him unless it mattered.
‘He’s alone?’ Rowan asked.
‘Yes. Limping. One arm completely useless. He looks half-dead, Alpha. But he’s not a threat. Not right now.’
Rowan’s jaw clenched as he absorbed that.
Rowan’s fingers curled around the armrest of the chair as he pushed himself upright, muscles screaming in protest, but he didn’t care. Duty came first. It always had. And now, it was personal.
He reached for the link again. ‘Hold him at the gate. I’ll be there shortly.’
‘Understood, Alpha.’ Kalen’s response was swift, laced with tension. ‘He’s not going anywhere.’
As the link faded, Rowan exhaled a slow breath and glanced once more toward Giselle. She was helping a woman to her feet, her face gentle and calm despite the grief surrounding her.
He hoped this wouldn’t cast another shadow over her.
Because if Merek was here… something worse might be coming.
With that settled, Rowan turned his attention to the last person he wanted to include but knew he couldn’t leave out. Elder Malric.
His mental voice cut through the link like a blade. ‘Malric. Meet me at the northern gate. Now.’
There was a pause. Then, ‘What is this about?’
Rowan didn’t entertain the question. ‘Just get there.’ And with that, he severed the link before the Elder could ask anything else.
A low sigh slid through his lips, but before he took another step, he reached out again—this time not as an Alpha, but as a mate. ‘Giselle.’
The bond flared warm in response, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. The gasp that escaped her in the courtyard, though small, carried straight to his heart.
‘Rowan?’ Her voice was breathless through the link, threaded with awe. ‘You’re in my head…’
It was the first time she’d heard him this way since their mating—their bond now complete, their connection whole. It wrapped around him like a balm, soothing the worst of the aches.
‘Merek’s at the gate,’ he told her gently, not wanting to worry her but needing her to know. ‘Bloodied and asking to speak to me. I’m heading there now—’
‘I’m coming with you,’ she interrupted, no hesitation in her voice.
He chuckled aloud, the sound low and amused despite the tension brewing beneath the surface. ‘I figured you would. That’s why I reached out to you.’
He could feel her smile bloom across the bond, even if her expression stayed solemn in the courtyard. Her warmth pulsed in time with his own heartbeat, giving him the strength to face what was coming next.
The soft creak of the porch boards shifted his focus just in time to see Luther appear beside him. The deadly calm the male usually wore had been replaced with sharp-edged wariness. His eyes locked onto Rowan’s with no need for words.
He’d heard.
“Merek,” Luther said, the name a curse on his tongue.
Rowan nodded grimly. “At the gate. Says he wants to talk.”
Luther’s jaw ticked, his posture already taut. “And you’re going to let him?”
“I have to.” Rowan’s voice was steady, his gaze firm. “Too many unanswered questions. If he’s alive, if he made it back… we need to know how. Why. And what else might be coming.”
Luther didn’t respond right away, but the muscle in his jaw worked, tension rippling down his shoulders. “I’m going with you,” he finally said, no room for debate.
Rowan didn’t argue. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop him even if he wanted to.
“Giselle is too,” Rowan added, already stepping down from the porch with a slight grimace.
“Of course she is,” Luther muttered, falling into step beside him. “She’d gut me if I tried to stop her.”
Together, they moved toward the gate, the weight of what waited for them pressing heavier with each step.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
