Page 47 of A Hunger Soft and Wild

These are the monsters who raised me, broke me.

And I can’t let her walk into their jaws just because she feels responsible for me.

Just because of Garrick.

That name tightens something in my chest. The partner she lost. The man she couldn’t save. Since him, she’s built walls no one could scale.

Until me.

I swallow hard, the words catching in my throat before I force them out.

“I’m not Garrick, Roan.”

She freezes. The change is immediate—like a wire pulled taut, every inch of her going still. Her shoulders lock, lips flattening into a hard line. And her eyes…

Gods, her eyes go dark. Guarded. Distant. Like I’ve pressed a blade to something she keeps buried too deep to name.

I want to take it back. But I can’t. She needs tohearit.

Because I’m not a replacement. I’m not her chance at redemption. And if she gets herself killed trying to prove otherwise—

My heart stutters.

I can’t lose her.

“I know that,” she says, but the words are clipped, bracing.

She turns slightly, exhaling through her nose. I don’t know what I was expecting—an argument, maybe, or for her to deny it altogether. Instead, she grips the hilt of her sword like an anchor, knuckles pale.

A long beat passes before she speaks again.

“I know that,” she repeats, softer this time. “I know exactly who you are.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t so much as flicker.

“You’re the woman who left everything behind because you couldn’t stomach their cruelty. You’re sharper than you let on, braver than you think, and stubborn enough to drive me mad.” She exhales sharply, tilting her head just slightly, like she’s measuring her words before she says them. “But not now, Aria. Not with this. You don’t get to be stubborn about your life.”

Her fingers twitch at her side like she wants to reach for me, but instead, her voice lowers, rough around the edges."Not when I’ve already decided to fight for it."

For a moment, I can’t breathe.

Roan isn’t a woman who says things lightly—she speaks in action, in movement, in the way she sharpens her sword every night like a prayer. But now, she’s standing in front of me, voice low and steady, saying this like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

It sends something splintering through my chest, something terrifying and fragile and impossible.

And somehow, that terrifies me more than anything else.

I try to look away, to gather myself, but Roan reaches out—just enough for her fingers to brush the edge of my sleeve. A grounding touch, not quite holding me but not letting me drift away either.

“I don’t want them to take you, Aria.” The roughness in her voice is back, barely restrained. “So don’t make me watch it happen.”

A shiver runs through me, part fear, part something else I can’t name. I nod, slow and careful, because it’s the only thing I can manage.

Roan watches me for a beat longer before pulling her hand back, jaw flexing like she’s fighting herself. Then she shifts her weight and clears her throat, stepping back, giving me space I don’t want but probably need.

The tension between us settles, not gone, but wrapped around us like something inevitable.

I take a shaky breath, forcing a small, wavering smile. “You really are terrible at letting things go, mercenary.”

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