Kieran's POV
The fight with Rowan had left me breathless, but not from the force of the fight. The physical wounds were nothing new. I have bled before. I have fought harder battles. But the weight of what had just happened—it was different. Rowan's words still echoed in my mind like the sound of a strike to my chest. He wanted it all. He wanted to destroy everything I'd built.
I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear him say it, just so I could feel the full weight of it crashing down on me.
The cold air cut through my torn shirt, the fabric clinging to my skin, still wet from the sweat and blood of the fight.
I hadn't known how much I relied on my past—on the pride I'd built within this pack, the walls I'd surrounded myself with, the belief that I was untouchable. But now? Rowan had just ripped through all of it like a wolf tearing through flesh.
I let out a sharp breath, my hands shaking as I pressed them against my knees, my head bowing low as the bitter taste of regret mixed with the blood in my mouth.
"You're nothing without me," he had said.
And for a moment, I had believed it.
The trees stood over me, their branches shaking in the breeze like skeletal hands, but their presence felt suffocating, like they were closing in, trapping me in a place I couldn't escape.
I had never dealt with it before—never taken the time to face what happened when everything crumbled.
When I was a boy, everything was simple. The pack had been my family, my life. Loyalty was all we knew. But somewhere along the way, things had shifted. I had shifted. And when Rowan turned his back on me, it wasn't just him I lost—it was everything I ever believed about loyalty, about power, about who I was.
I had thought I was above it all, that I was stronger than those who would try to take it from me. But Rowan… he wasn't just nothing but some traitor
I swallowed, my throat tight. The air felt colder now, the pain from the cuts on my body more present than before. But I ignored it, focused on something else—the feeling of being completely exposed.
How did it come to this? I asked myself
I didn't know what hurt more—his betrayal, or the fact that I'd never truly seen it coming.
For years, I had hidden behind the title of Alpha, hidden behind the strength I had built in blood. But now? Now, I felt like a shadow of the man I had been. I had become everything I despised.
The pack had been my only family. But they weren't loyal to me—they were loyal to the power I represented. They followed me because of what I could give them, not because of who I was.
I closed my eyes, holding on to the rough bark of the tree, trying to steady myself, trying to drown out the flood of thoughts that threatened to drown me.
And then it hit me—harder than any blow Rowan had landed. The truth I had avoided all these years.
I was alone.
I had built everything on the foundation of power, on the belief that no one could touch me. But now, I realized I was standing on nothing but a fragile ground. And it was slipping away, faster than I could hold on.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips, bitterer than the taste of blood in my mouth.
I wasn't untouchable. I was a man drowning in the consequences of his own making.
Elara's POV
I didn't need to see the anger on his face. The tension in the air was enough to show it —it pressed down on me, thick and suffocating.
"What are you looking at?" he shouted , his voice sharp and cutting. His dark eyes locked onto mine, filled with a rage that sent a cold chill down my spine.
Slowly, I stood. Part of me wanted to look away, but I couldn't. His shirt was torn, streaked with mud and blood. Whatever he'd been through, it wasn't just a fight—it was something that had cut deeper than his flesh.
"You're hurt," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I shifted towards his side.
He let out a bitter, painful laugh. "I don't need your concern, Elara. Just stay out of my way."
But he didn't leave. Instead, he moved closer, his steps deliberate and heavy. His presence filled the room, and I had to force myself to stay still, even as every instinct screamed at me to step back.
"You don't listen, do you?" His voice was low, threatening "Do you think you're different? That you can somehow get under my skin? You mean nothing to me."
The words were sharp, meant to wound, but I caught something painful behind them. Like he was trying to convince himself more than me.
"You're angry," I said, keeping my voice calm, steady, even though my heart was racing.
"And you are nothing but a nuisance," he shot back, his tone biting. "You've done nothing but test my patience since you showed up here."
I folded my hands into fists, trying to hold my ground. I wouldn't give him what he wanted—a reaction to fuel his anger.
"Kieran," I said softly, "why are you really angry?"
His jaw tightened, his fists moving at his sides. For a moment, I thought he might snap. Instead, he growled low in his throat and turned his back to me.
"Don't act like you understand me," he said, his voice quiet but heavy with warning.
"I don't," I admitted, taking a step closer. "But I see you."
He froze. His shoulders went stiff, and the silence between us grew so thick I could barely breathe.
Before I could stop myself, I closed the gap between us. My heart pounded, every part of me screaming that this was a bad idea, but I couldn't help it. I reached out, my fingers lightly brushing his arm.
"Kieran," I whispered.
He turned sharply, his eyes fuming with anger and confusion. I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just leaned in and kissed him.
But just as quickly as it began, it was over. I pulled back, my breath shaky, my mind trying to figure out what I'd just done.
What had I done?
Kieran stared at me, his expression unreadable. His anger was still there, but just beneath the surface, but something else had crept in—something I couldn't name.
"I…" My voice shakes as the weight of my actions sank in. "I don't know why I—"
"Stop," he cut me off, stepping back. His eyes moved. "What game are you playing, Elara?"
"I'm not—"
"Don't," he said coldly. "Don't try to turn this into something it's not."
The words hurt me more than I wanted to admit. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, I turned away, my hands trembling as I held them tightly.
Why had I kissed him? Was it because of pity? Desperation? Or something far more dangerous?
I didn't know the answer to all this. All I knew was that, for one brief moment, I had seen the cracks in his shield —the pain he tried so hard to hide. And I hated myself for wanting to see more of him.