Page 47 of Wolf's Reckoning
The room was quiet. The druid cleared their throat, already preparing a lecture, I had no doubt.
But Wolfe spoke first. “If she needs two more days,” he said, “she gets two days.”
The room was still, utterly silent. I almost breathed a sigh of relief until I met his gaze and saw the blue mocking gaze.
“As pack leader, I will honor the request.”
The statement felt like a slap, right across my face. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I looked at my dad, and he was practicallybeamingwith pride as he looked at Wolfe.
The truth hit harder than anything else. Wolfe hadn’ttakenthe title of pack leader. He wasusingit. Using it forme. I didn’t know whether to be grateful or enraged. So I did what I had been doing a lot lately. I nodded once, sharp and clean, and then I walked out. Because if I didn’t, I was going to say something that I couldn’t take back and he knew it.
I didn’t go far.
Just outside the hall, down the low steps, around the bend toward the overlook where the pines opened just wide enough to show the ridge beyond, where I waited for him.
Two days. That’s what I asked for. That’s what I was granted. Not because the druid listened. Becausehespoke. And worse, because the druid nodded.
“You’re welcome,” came the voice behind me.
I didn’t turn.
“You think I owe you now?” I asked him.
“No. I think you’re used to fighting alone. And it’s making you see enemies where there aren’t any.”
That got to me. I spun on him, fists clenched, heat in my throat. “You think you’re not my enemy?”
Wolfe didn’t flinch. “I didn’t take anything from you, Rowen. You were never allowed to claim it.”
“And you were?” I snapped. “You’ve been gone for years, and now you come back and they hand you this pack like it’s…like it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he said. “It’s survival.”
“I didn’t ask for your protection.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You asked for two days. I gave them to you. Don’t confuse that with submission.”
I hated how calm he sounded. How steady. Like he was a pack leader now, and not just some ghost from my past.
“You’re not doing this for the pack,” I said, voice low. “You’re doing it for yourself.”
“Your father named me his heir—trust me, I didn’t see that coming either.” His jaw twitched. “You think I wanted this?”
“I think you wanted me on my knees.”
His eyes flashed. Just for a second. “That’s not the way I remember it.”
Goddess. That smirk.
That infuriating, perfectsmirk.
“You arrogant, self-righteous?—”
He stepped into my space. Not touching. But close enough that I could feel it—his wolf straining at the seams of his control.
“You want a fight, Rowen?” he said. “Fine. But fight the others. Fight the wannabe husbands. Fight the ones who would turn your strength into a political pawn.” He leaned in, voice rough and quiet, his lips so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath. “But don’t waste your rage on the only one here who actually sees you.”
Silence stretched. Hot. Tight. Tearing at the edges of everything I hadn’t said.
