Page 62 of Wolf's Reckoning
This was politics. This was control. This was about standing beside a woman, who right now hated that I existed, and making damn sure she regretted turning me away that day.
I wanted to say this wasn’t the eighteen-year-old boy in me getting a slight taste of revenge, that I wasn’t that petty…but maybe alittlebit of me was that petty.
I wasn’t proud of the feeling, but I also wouldn’t dwell on it.
Today, I needed to look the part. Killian had said his piece—it hadn’t been complimentary—and then left me to find clothes fitting of an alpha.
I dressed precisely, all in black. No frills. Just borrowed clothes. Black pants and a black shirt that was a little too tight around the neck, so I had to keep the top two buttons undone if I wanted to breathe.
By the time I stepped into the clearing, the pack were gathered. Not in rows. Not in reverence. Just…watching. Weighing.
Judging.
I could feel Killian behind me. Still. Focused. He didn’t need to say anything—I already knew what he was thinking.We shouldn’t be here. Maybe he was right. But I was here because someone had to keep this pack from destruction.
Malric stood beside the druid. I hadn’t expected him to make it, but then, why would he not? She was his only child after all. I admired the strength of the alpha, knowing how much it would cost him to bring himself here. To give the blessing.
He saw me looking and dipped his head slightly, but hecouldn’t hide the sheen of sweat on his brow or the worry in his eyes as he looked at me.
Seemed Killian wasn’t the only one wondering if this was a huge mistake, and then I felt it.
Not a sound. Not a scent.
But her.
I didn’t turn right away. I waited. Measured. Controlled the snap of my wolf behind my teeth because I couldn’t afford to lose control.
When I looked up, Rowen stood across the clearing, walking toward me like she was on her way to an execution.
Not hers.Mine.
She was dressed in something dark—blood-red or maybe rust-brown, I couldn’t tell—but the silky fabric clung to her like a weapon. Every curve was on show, and I instantly hated her choice of dress, knowing that’sexactlywhy she picked it. She didn’t offer a smile. There was no softness. Just tension in her shoulders and fire in her eyes. Her hair was loose and free, the morning sun catching the red in her hair as if she were wearing a fiery crown.
She stopped in front of me, and I didn’t speak. Neither did she.
That silence dragged for one beat too long.
“Last chance, princess?” I said to her, quiet, low. “There’s still time to run.”
Her mouth curled, not in amusement but in disgust. “Run? Is this a fight, Wolfe?”
“No,” I grunted. “You’re not dressed for a fight.”
“I’malwaysdressed for a fight.”
Goddess,send me patience.
I let my eyes rake over her, just to provoke her, and watched the flush rise high on her cheeks. “You look?—”
“If you saybeautiful, I will knee you in the dick in front of the entire pack.”
My smirk was slow, calculated. “I was going to saydangerous. But now I’m thinkingdelusional.”
She didn’t flinch. “Keep pushing, Wolfe. You’ll find out just how dangerous I am.”
The druid cleared their throat behind us. I didn’t move. Neither did she.
This wasn’t a normal Binding. It was a declaration of war—with rings instead of blades—and we were both ready to bleed for it.
