I didn’t sleep.

  Not even a little.

  The sheets twisted around my legs felt more like restraints than comfort, and the walls of my quarters—it didn’t matter how spacious they were—felt too close, like they were pressing in on me with every breath.

  She was just down the hall.

  I could hear her heartbeat if I focused hard enough. That steady rhythm, light and soft. Tired. Worn thin.

  And marked.

  My mark was on her neck now, and the bond between us was stronger than ever. I could feel her. Even from here. I’d thought the distance would help—give her space, give me clarity. But all it did was make the silence louder.

  What the hell did I do?

  I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, palms dragged across my face. My skin still tingled where she’d touched me. Not from the bond—at least, not just from that. From the way she looked at me when I wouldn’t let her go. Like she was seeing a ghost. Like she expected pain.

  I wasn’t supposed to be just another chain.

  I had told myself that marking her was about protecting her. She was spiraling, losing grip on herself, and I couldn’t just stand there while it happened. The need to anchor her—it had come from somewhere deep. Somewhere primal. But I should’ve known better. I should’ve waited. Talked to her. Asked her what she wanted instead of deciding for her.

  But I didn’t. I marked her. I claimed her.

  And now I don’t know if I gave her a reason to stay—or just another reason to run.

  I leaned back, exhaling hard. The ceiling stared back, unmoved by my guilt.

  She hasn’t said a word to me since. I didn’t blame her.

  The worst part?

  I wasn’t sure I’d do it differently if I could.

  Because I still remember the sound of her voice when she told me not to love her.

  And I still remember how badly I wanted to anyway.

  I dragged my hands through my hair, gripping the roots until it stung.

  What was I thinking?

  She wasn’t ready. Not for the bond, not for me. And I knew that—I knew it. But that moment… moons above, it had felt right. Not perfect. Not clean. Just right. Like something ancient inside me had stirred and reached out before I could stop it.

  And now I’m the bastard who didn’t ask.

  The Alpha Rogue, marking a runt—albeit with Alpha Blood running through her—like her without a second thought. As if I had the right.

  I could still feel the echo of her skin against my lips. The tremble in her body. The taste of her fear, not in her scent, but in the silence that followed. That silence had been louder than any scream.

  She didn’t push me away. But she didn’t pull me close, either.

  What if she only let it happen because she was too broken to stop me?

  The thought struck harder than I expected. My jaw clenched until it ached. I stood up suddenly, pacing, needing to move. Needing to do something other than sit here and drown in my own regret.

  I hadn’t even asked her name when I first brought her here. Just saw her—saw the state she was in—and knew she needed out. I didn’t care about the details. I just knew she needed saving.

  But maybe I was too late.

  Maybe she didn’t need saving. Maybe she just needed someone to listen. Someone to see her as more than the shattered pieces she was trying to keep together.

  And instead, I marked her.

  Claimed her.

  I wanted her to feel safe. Wanted her to feel mine—not in the possessive way, not in the way her old Alpha probably used the word. But in the way that meant she had someone in her corner now. Someone who wouldn’t let her fall.

  But I never gave her the chance to choose that.

  I don’t even know what she wants.

  Hell, I barely know who she is beneath all the bruises and silence.

  The bond tugged at my chest again, a low throb under my ribs. She was still asleep. Restless. Twitching in her dreams. I felt the tension rolling off her even from here.

  What is she dreaming about?

  What horrors is she reliving—and how many of them have my face now?

  The thought cut deeper than I expected. I sat back down heavily, elbows digging into my knees again.

  I’m no better than the monsters she ran from.

  And I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for that.

  I didn’t deserve her.

  That thought had been circling me like a vulture since the second I walked out of her room. Since I left her alone with that mark still fresh on her skin.

  I hadn’t even asked if she wanted it. I just did it.

  The worst part? I meant it. Every bit of it.

  Not because I wanted to control her—but because some stupid, instinct-bound part of me thought it might make things better. That if I marked her, she’d feel safe. Chosen. Like she had someone now.

  But that’s not what it means to someone like her. Not when she’s spent her whole damn life being told she wasn’t worth anything unless someone owned her.

  Moons above, what was I thinking?

  I stood up again and braced myself against the wall, pressing my palms to the cool stone. I was too hot—restless. My skin felt too tight. I needed to shift, run, tear into something. But I couldn’t. Not with her just down the hall. Not with this bond yanking on every part of me that wanted to go to her, hold her, explain.

  Explain what, though? That I meant well?

  That wouldn’t be enough.

  Nothing was.

  A sharp knock rattled my door.

  I didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the wood like maybe it would go away on its own. But the knock came again, more urgent.

  “Alpha?” Jaxe’s voice. Low. Strained. “You awake?”

  I wiped a hand over my face and crossed the room, unlocking the door. Jaxe stood there, his usual laid-back smirk nowhere in sight. His brows were drawn together, and his jaw was set tight.

  That wasn’t a good look on him.

  He held out a folded piece of paper, the wax seal already broken. “You need to see this.”

  I took the letter without a word, fingers tightening on the edges as I scanned the contents. The more I read, the colder my blood ran.

  Jaxe stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. “It’s from the Ashmoor scouts. One of the minor packs—Silvervein—is mobilizing. Fast. We think they’re coming tonight.”

  I looked up sharply. “Why?”

  His lips twisted. “They want us gone. Out of the picture. No more disruption. If they wipe us out before the next gathering, the Continental Pack Council won’t bother investigating. No trial. No vote. Just silence.”

  I stared at the letter again, the words swimming in my vision.

  Of course.

  Of course this was happening now—when the pack was already stretched thin, when I was barely holding myself together, when she was still too fragile to even speak.

  Jaxe watched me carefully, his voice quieter now. “They’re trying to erase us, Apolloh. Quietly. They think you’ve gotten too loud.”

  My laugh was low and humorless. “I haven’t even started being loud yet.”

  I folded the letter slowly, pressing the crease like it might hold the mess together better than I could.

  Silvervein.

  They weren’t the biggest pack, not by a long shot, but they were loyal to the Council. Quiet, obedient little lapdogs—just dangerous enough to make a mess if no one was looking.

  And apparently, someone had given them permission to come sniffing around my borders.

  Jaxe stood silently across from me, arms crossed now. Waiting. Watching me unravel.

  And unravel I did.

  Inside, at least.

  The timing was cruel. Strategic. They knew we were scattered. Knew my wolves were tired, wounded, holding onto old grudges and open wounds. And now, just as we’d started to rebuild—even a little—they wanted to wipe the slate clean.

  I sat down heavily, letter still clenched in my hand.

  “She’s not ready for this,” I muttered.

  Jaxe tilted his head slightly. “You mean the girl?”

  I nodded once.

  The silence stretched.

  “You marked her,” he said finally, not a question. Just fact.

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t say anything right away. Just watched me like he was trying to read a language I hadn’t meant to speak aloud.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “You think you screwed it up.”

  I looked at him. “Did I?”

  He gave a half-shrug, the kind that meant probably but he wasn’t about to say it.

  “I don’t know what she’s been through,” I said, low. “But I can feel it. All of it. The fear, the pain. The way she flinches like every breath might be her last. And I—”

  I stopped myself before the next words could crawl out.

  And I still wanted her.

  That part didn’t need to be said.

  “She didn’t push you away,” Jaxe said carefully.

  “She didn’t pull me close either.”

  He nodded, folding his arms again. “Still. She’s here. That has to count for something.”

  A long breath filled my lungs, slow and controlled, as I tried to calm the storm in my chest.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Not now.”

  Jaxe raised a brow. “You mean because of Silvervein?”

  “No.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Because we don’t have the luxury of waiting for things to make sense. Not with this. Not with them coming.”

  I stood, folding the letter and slipping it into the drawer of the desk behind me. Then I reached for the map.

  “We’ll move the outer patrols in closer. Zia can help sweep the east ridge. I want eyes on every approach within the hour.”

  Jaxe nodded, already in motion.

  “And Jaxe—” I paused, my voice dropping again, “—no one goes near her. Not unless she asks. She doesn’t need more strangers breathing down her neck.”

  He hesitated in the doorway, then gave a firm nod. “Got it.”

  As he left, the room fell back into silence. But not the same kind of silence as before.

  This one had sharp edges.

  Because now it wasn’t just guilt clawing at my spine.

  Now it was war.

  ~~~

  The hall outside her door felt longer than it should’ve.

  Every step I took echoed like a warning. I could feel her before I even reached it—her presence like a soft hum in my chest, distant but undeniable. She was awake. I didn’t know how long she’d been up, but I could feel the way her thoughts moved. Distant. Heavy. Still afraid.

  I stopped outside and took a breath.

  Then I knocked.

  A soft shuffle inside. No answer.

  I turned the knob slowly and opened the door just enough to see her sitting on the edge of the bed. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, chin tucked to her knees. Her eyes flicked up when I stepped inside, wide and guarded—but not surprised.

  She was always watching. Always waiting for the next hit.

  Not from me, but I could tell—she didn’t know that for sure.

  “I won’t stay long,” I said, voice low. “I just… I need to tell you something.”

  She didn’t answer, but she didn’t look away either. That was something.

  I crossed the room slowly, stopping a few feet from her. Close enough that she’d feel the bond stir between us. Close enough that she’d know I wasn’t hiding.

  “There’s a pack heading this way,” I told her. “Silvervein. They’re coming to try and wipe us out.”

  Her head lifted slightly. A flicker of something—shock, maybe—flashed in her eyes, but she didn’t speak.

  “We’re ready for them,” I added. “We’ve dealt with worse. I just wanted you to know before I go.”

  Her brows pulled together. I felt the questions behind her silence.

  “I’ll be back,” I said, firmer now. “I swear it. But I need you to stay here. Stay safe. Don’t open that door for anyone unless you hear my voice. Jaxe and Zia know you’re not to be bothered.”

  She blinked slowly, still quiet. Still watching.

  “I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you,” I added after a moment. “But I’m asking anyway. Please. Just… stay put.”

  The room fell quiet again. The tension between us wasn’t gone—it never really was—but it had shifted. I didn’t know if she believed me. I didn’t know if she trusted me. But she hadn’t looked away.

  And I’d take that.

  I turned to go, pausing at the door one last time.

  “I’ll come back,” I said, without looking back. “To you.”

  Then I stepped out, pulling the door gently shut behind me.

  ~~~

  The forest was alive with blood and breath and the sound of war.

  The moon sat high and swollen above us, a white eye watching everything unfold beneath its gaze.

  I tore through the undergrowth, my wolf form nothing but a blur of black and fury. Silvervein had come fast, just as we expected—but they didn’t count on us being faster.

  Steel clanged. Claws ripped through bark and flesh alike. The scent of earth and blood coated the air, thick enough to choke on. My wolves fought like hell—like they had something to prove.

  Like they had something to protect.

  And I—I was already teetering on the edge of my control.

  Every time I shifted back to give a command, I could feel it creeping in—the burn under my skin, the pulse low in my gut. My Rut had chosen the worst damn time to strike. I’d felt it building for days, like a storm behind my ribs, but I’d ignored it. Tried to outlast it.

  But now, with every drop of blood spilled and every enemy that dared come near my territory, it twisted tighter around me like a snare.

  And I could smell her.

  Even through the chaos and carnage, I could feel Laika through the bond. Her scent—a soft thread of comfort and ache—slipped through the smoke and pine. It pulled me, again and again, dragging my thoughts back to her no matter how many enemies I took down.

  It made me reckless.

  Too reckless.

  A blade caught me across the shoulder—shallow, but enough to snap my attention back. I turned, teeth bared, and shifted mid-motion. My wolf launched at the attacker, tearing him down with a snarl that echoed through the trees.

  I didn’t even pause to watch him fall. My body moved on instinct, toward the next threat, toward the source of that maddening scent I couldn’t shake.

  Toward her.

  By the time the last of Silvervein retreated—bloodied and broken—I was already running.

  ~~~

  The wind tore past me as I ran.

  Branches snapped against my sides. My paws thundered across the ground. Every part of me screamed for her.

  By the time I reached the edge of the safehouse, I was already shifting.

  Bones cracked. Fur receded. The cool night air licked across my sweat-drenched skin, but it did nothing to soothe the fire inside me.

  I didn’t bother with clothes. I didn’t knock.

  I barged into the room, chest heaving, eyes burning gold.

  Laika shot up in the bed, startled, but she didn’t scream.

  She looked at me—at the way I stood in the doorway, completely bare, breathing like I’d run through fire—and something in her expression shifted.

  My voice was low. Rough. Barely human.

  “Laika.”

  Her name tasted like heat and need.

  I stepped forward, slow, like I was afraid she might vanish. My eyes didn’t leave hers, even as the bond flared between us, sharp and hungry.

  “It’s my Rut,” I said, the words tight, husky, almost desperate. “It won’t stop. It won’t end unless…”

  I stopped a foot from her, my jaw clenched, my whole body trembling with restraint.

  “I need you.”

  My voice broke on the words.

  “I can’t fight it anymore. Not without you. I know I’ve asked too much already, but… I need your help.”

  The room felt suffocating in the stillness.

  I could hear my own breath coming too fast, too shallow, but it was nothing compared to the way my pulse thundered in my veins. The Rut was consuming me, tearing at the edges of my control.

  She hadn’t moved since I spoke, just watching me, wide-eyed, like she wasn’t sure what to do with this—me.

  I could feel it, though. Her heart was racing, too. But there was something else beneath it. Curiosity. Confusion. And a hesitation so thick I could almost taste it in the air.

  I stepped closer, my body trembling as the need swelled inside me. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch her, needing to feel her skin beneath mine, but I didn’t. I stopped just short, letting the silence stretch between us.

  “I—” I started, my voice gravelly, unsure. “I’m not… asking for pity. I need you, Laika. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. But I can’t fight it anymore. The Rut… It won’t stop unless—unless you help me.”

  She didn’t say anything at first. But her eyes never left mine. I could see the conflict in her expression—her body still tense, the confusion still pulling at her.

  For a moment, I thought she might turn me away. That she’d reject me and lock herself away from me completely.

  But then, slowly, her hand moved. She reached for me.

  It was the smallest of gestures. But it was enough to pull me forward.

  I didn’t think, didn’t pause. In an instant, I closed the distance between us, my hand brushing against her cheek, my touch a whisper of warmth against her cool skin. She leaned into it, just slightly, her breath catching when I touched her.

  And then, she was in my arms. Her body pressing close to mine, just the right amount of heat to send another wave of need crashing through me.

  My breath hitched as her hands slid up to my chest, hesitant at first, but then with more purpose, more surety. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t step back. She leaned in.

  The bond flared between us, crackling with every touch. My skin burned with it, and her warmth felt like home—a fire I couldn’t get close enough to.

  Her mouth brushed against mine, a soft kiss that almost felt like an apology—like an understanding that we were both here, in this mess, and there was no turning back.

  The taste of her was sweet, like she was trying to pull me out of the dark storm inside my chest. But I couldn’t hold back anymore. I pulled her closer, deeper, unable to stop myself.

  She responded, her body pressing against mine as she melted into the kiss. Her hands moved down to my back, tracing the tension, the muscles that strained against the rush of desire I could barely control. She felt me—knew me—as though she could read every thought and need swirling inside me.

  I pulled back for a breath, but it wasn’t enough. The hunger inside me was still raging, clawing at the walls of my control, demanding release.

  “I can’t wait much longer,” I muttered, my voice thick, husky. I was barely holding on.

  “I don’t want you to,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She reached for me again, pulling me back to her.

  I couldn’t resist. Not anymore. I lowered my lips to her neck, kissing the soft skin there, feeling her pulse beneath my mouth. The bond between us surged with every touch, every kiss. And suddenly, everything made sense. This was why I had been drawn to her. Why I couldn’t fight it anymore.

  Her hands moved to my waist, and I felt her hesitation flicker, but it didn’t last long. She needed this, too. I could feel it in the way she moved with me, in the way her body responded to mine.

  I kissed her again, more urgently this time, my hands slipping to her waist, feeling the curve of her body beneath the fabric of her clothes. I was losing myself in her, in the warmth of her skin and the softness of her touch, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop.

  The next few moments were a blur of heat and need, of breathless touches and desperate whispers. We moved together, learning each other in the only way that mattered right then. Every inch of her felt like a revelation—each part of her pulling me closer, deeper, until there was nothing left but the bond, the fire, and the undeniable truth of what we were to each other.

  After we spend several minutes lost in each other’s bodies, we start tearing clothes off, throwing them on the floor.

  I moan, I’ve been needing this.

  “Oh Laika,” my voice is filled with more need.

  She moans in response into my cry.

  Letting go of the restraints I was using to keep me back, I tell her what I’m going to do next.

  “I’m going to get you ready so that I don’t get stuck while we’re doing this.”

  She looks at me with concern, “I’ve never done this before. I hope I’m good enough.”

  My urges grow stronger the longer I wait.

  “I understand. I want you to know that after this happens, you won’t be able walk or stand. It’s going to be a little rough. I’ll try to be gentle so I don’t hurt you.”

  “Okay. I’m ready to help you.”

  “Okay.”

  I lay her on the bed and strip her panties off. I get on my knees and drag her hips to just barely hang off the bed. I put my face in between her legs and start worshiping her.

  Each time my tongue circles around her clit, I pull helpless and pleasured sounds from her throat. I push my tongue inside her and start swirling more, drawing more sounds. I pull out and lick up and down her pussy making her cry even more.

  After a few more times of doing this, I push my fingers in her, stretching her opening. I push—slow at first—going faster and faster until she is panting. I keep going, drawing more and more pleasure out of her.

  I feel her legs start to close and I know she’s getting close. I keep going faster.

  I move my tongue over her more, deliberate movements marking her arch into me.

  She grabs at my hair in desperation. I hear a loud and desperate moan escape her and my mouth is greeted with her pleasure.

  I lick her clean and stand up.

  I give her a moment to breathe before telling her it’s her turn to give me pleasure.

  She hesitates for a brief moment.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing to please tell me what you do and don’t like while I’m doing this.”

  I nod and help her sit up. Stepping back to allow her space to kneel on the floor, she takes the space quickly—eagerly.

  She takes my cock in her hand and starts stroking. I grunt, feeling the long needed—long wanted—pleasure.

  She slowly eases it into her mouth. I feel her lips close around it and she starts moving it in and out her tongue swirling around my tip, causing me to moan.

  I resist the urge to make her go faster. Although, I jerk a little bit to give her the hint I need more. Picking up on the fact, she takes more of my long shaft into her mouth, going faster.

  I can’t hold back much longer, and take hold of her head. I push faster into her mouth, careful not to harm her.

  I keep going, moaning and making her let out a desperate, feral sound—half-whimper, half-growl—like her body’s chasing something it can’t survive without.

  Soon enough I feel myself reaching the edge.

  I go a little faster.

  Then something snaps, and I am pushed over. I feel my cock twitch and then I feel her mouth fill up with my erection.

  She gives a moan of approval before sucking me dry and swallowing.

  I pick her back up and place her in the bed again.

  “This is going to hurt at first but I promise I will go gentle.”

  Taking my cock in my hand I guide it into her opening, pushing gently until just above my tip is inside. I hear her hiss but then moan seconds later.

  She likes this.

  I rock my hips slowly—careful not to hurt her as much as possible. She gasps in pleasure and releases a loud moan.

  Taking that as she needs more, I push deeper—harder—a tad bit more aggression put into each thrust.

  I hear the desperation coming from her and I ask her to let me go faster and harder. She nods and I tear off the last little bits of restraint in place, sending her into screams and fits of need.

  “Apolloh,” she moans breathlessly. Hearing her say my name makes me go even faster—even harder.

  We keep going for several more minutes before she starts clamping her legs to mine, signaling that she’s almost reached it. I smile and push harder—just enough to send her over the edge.

  She releases her legs and arches into my cock. I keep going, having not reached my limit for this round.

  Sweat beads on her face as she waits desperately for me to let go of the edge. She has several more orgasms. I finally feel myself reaching the breaking point. I push. Hard. I do this several times before we both moan. We come at the same time.

  Leaning down to kiss her, my cock continues twitching, pulsing in her. Each wave of cum hitting her harder—faster.

  She smiles. Kissing me back, she pulls me on top of her. Our bodies colliding and radiating with intense heat.

  We lay there for several moments enjoying each other’s warmth.

  Feeling my Rut still active, we continue well into the night. Each round more intense than the last.

  We grow tired, my Rut now satisfied. After a few moments of shared, longing smooches, we lay down in the bed. Not caring about the mess, our clothes, or the events that just took place, we fall asleep holding each other closely.