Chapter 122 – Into the Future
Dozens of eyes locked onto his, some glistening with unshed tears, others shadowed with doubt. But in each, Rowan saw the same flicker—small, but unyielding. Hope.
“We will rise above this heartbreak,” he vowed. “We will rebuild what’s been lost, and we’ll do it together. Stronger. Smarter. Safer. This pack has survived worse… and it will thrive again.”
The quiet that followed his words was heavy but not bleak. His people looked to him not with the blind loyalty of the past, but with a deep, earned trust. They’d been through hell together. And now, they were climbing out of it.
A small child—no more than six—stepped forward, her tiny fingers clutching a woven bracelet of wildflowers. She approached shyly, looking up at him with wide eyes. Rowan bent slightly, and she slipped the bracelet over his wrist.
“For luck,” she whispered.
Rowan’s throat tightened as he managed a grateful smile. “Thank you, little one.”
Giselle’s hand closed around his as the people slowly parted, many touching his arm or offering hushed blessings of strength and recovery as he passed. The weight on his shoulders remained heavy, but the love of his pack was a balm against it.
And as they reached the packhouse door, Rowan looked out across the clearing—at the smoke rising in wisps from cookfires, at the warriors tending wounds, and at the families clinging to one another.
They were damaged. But they were his. And he would give everything to see them whole again.
The packhouse door clicked shut behind them, muffling the low hum of voices still murmuring in the courtyard. Inside, the air was thick with silence and the remnants of smoke and lavender from the hearth. The dim lighting softened the edges of the room, but nothing could dull the way Rowan’s eyes glowed as they locked on Giselle.
He didn’t speak at first—didn’t need to. Instead, he reached for her with slow, aching reverence, his movements unhurried and full of purpose. His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her in until their bodies touched from hip to chest. The thrum of his heart beat strong against her ribs, steady and grounding.
Giselle’s breath caught as Rowan cupped her cheek with one hand, his calloused thumb brushing over the softness beneath her eye. His gaze swept over her features—every freckle, every curve of her lips, every strand of hair out of place from the chaos of the day. And in his eyes… there was nothing but awe.
“I waited a lifetime to find you,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath but heavy with emotion. “And though I would’ve waited a lifetime more, I’m glad the Goddess brought you to me when She did.”
Giselle blinked rapidly, emotion tightening her throat. Her lips trembled as he leaned in just a little closer, their foreheads nearly brushing.
“I thank Her every single day,” he continued, his voice growing huskier, weighed down by the intensity of his feelings. “For giving me a mate who is as brave as she is compassionate, who can meet me in my darkness and still shine.”
His thumb traced along the edge of her jaw, lingering there as he added, “You’ve carried more than most, Giselle. And yet, you still stand. Fierce. Unyielding. Unbreakable.”
Tears welled in her eyes now, slipping silently down her cheeks.
“I love you, Giselle,” Rowan said, the words falling from his lips like a vow. “More than words could ever convey. So I won’t rely on words alone.” His other hand came up, cradling the back of her head as he leaned closer. “I’ll spend the rest of our days showing you. Every day. In every way. So that you never doubt your worth again.”
Her heart shattered and healed all at once in the same breath.
With a soft, broken sound, Giselle surged forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly, her face pressed into the hollow of his throat. “I love you too,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I will never stop being grateful.”
Rowan held her fiercely, as if letting her go might shatter the fragile peace that had finally settled between them. He pressed a kiss to her temple, then to her cheek, and finally to her lips—slow and tender and full of everything that words couldn’t say.
There were still scars between them—fresh and deep—but love was beginning to stitch them closed.
And here, in the quiet of the packhouse, surrounded by loss but buoyed by hope, Rowan made a silent promise to the woman in his arms.
That no matter what came next, they would face it together.
Rowan dipped his head and captured Giselle’s lips in a kiss that melted everything else away—the ache in his body, the dull throb of his healing wounds, the grief hanging in the corners of the packhouse. None of it mattered. Not when she was in his arms.
His lips moved over hers with a gentleness that spoke volumes, lingering as if he had all the time in the world to memorize the shape of her mouth, the way she tasted like warmth and home. Giselle responded in kind, her fingers sliding up into his hair, holding him close as her heart beat wildly in her chest.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other’s, breath mingling in the quiet space between them.
Rowan gazed down at her, his eyes full of wonder and unspoken gratitude. “The Goddess,” he murmured, brushing his nose lightly against hers, “got it exactly right when she gave you to me.”
A soft, tearful laugh escaped Giselle, but her eyes shimmered with the same depth of emotion he felt in his chest—something ancient, eternal. Something sacred.
He held her close for one final, lingering moment, tucking her into the strength of his arms and letting himself savor the warmth of her body pressed to his. When he finally pulled away, his arms felt colder for it.
Already, he missed the weight of her.
But he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, gesturing gently toward the stairs. “Come on, my love,” he said softly. “You’ve done enough today—for me, for the pack. You deserve a hot bath and rest.”
Giselle arched a brow, her lips twitching. “And what about you?”
He chuckled, the sound low and affectionate. “I plan to be wherever you are. But I also plan to see you relax for once.”
Sliding his hand into hers, he laced their fingers together and gave her hand a soft squeeze. Together, they climbed the stairs, step by step, as the weight of the day slowly melted from their shoulders.
There was still much to rebuild. Still pain to soothe and wounds to mend. But for now, there was quiet. There was love. And there was a promise in the air between them—unspoken but deeply felt.
Tonight, they would rest.
And tomorrow, they would rise.
AUTHOR NOTE: Thank you for reading both Fated to her Tormentors and Rogue for the Alpha. It is your love and support that makes these stories possible! If you enjoyed my stories and want more, please check out my ongoing story Human on Packlands. You can also find me on SM, Heidi Monath as well as A***on.
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