Arkoun felt pain for his friend and hesitantly said:
"Haven't you forgotten about it yet? It's been several years, and we are constantly combing the borders. No one goes near it anymore..."
But he knew in his heart that some wounds never heal. Even after years, some scars refuse to fade. When your fingertips touch them, they whisper, "I'm still here. I haven't disappeared, and I never will."
Adrian smiled, but it was a smile that did not reach his eyes. Short images flashed before him, reminding him of a past that had left indelible scars on his soul—the pain of losing someone dear to him. He looked at his palms silently, as if searching for an answer that had yet to be written.
"How can I forget? She died before she even realized she had a mate. Her innocence was taken in cold blood. And if I forget, how can I erase the smell of her blood lingering on me? No matter how many years pass, there are things that time cannot wash away."
Her features were still etched in his memory—her hazel eyes that glowed under the sunlight, her laughter that lit up the world around her, and the way she made his heart race with love and passion. But every time he recalled those memories, the ugliest scene came back to haunt him...
Her bloodied body. Her pure blood staining her delicate features. His heart cried out in agony, and a single thought resounded in his mind...
"Why me?"
Arkoun stepped closer and patted his shoulder gently. He truly felt his friend's pain, but he knew Adrian had to move past the past. Yet, sometimes, words were not enough to mend what was broken.
If Adrian hadn't been so strong—if his mate hadn't been so young, and her wolf hadn't yet emerged—his own wolf would have died with her. But he survived… Perhaps because fate had not meant for this to be his end. Hope is always born from suffering, no matter how long it takes. Remember, there is hope.
Clearing his throat, Arkoun spoke as he walked beside Adrian, attempting to change the subject:
"Man, I forgot… The Alpha was looking for you."
Adrian nodded nonchalantly, as if it didn't concern him, then said quietly:
"Let's go to him together."
They arrived at the headquarters. As Adrian pushed the door open, they were met with the loud commotion inside—voices echoing from every corner. They made their way to the Alpha's office, where Arkoun knocked on the door. A firm voice granted permission from within.
Adrian stepped inside, followed by Arkoun. Behind the desk sat a man who appeared to be in his late thirties, with brown hair, silver eyes, and olive skin. His posture was a mixture of dignity and strength, and his gaze carried the authority of an Alpha not to be taken lightly.
Without looking up from the papers he was examining, he spoke in a clipped, firm tone, addressing Adrian, who had thrown himself onto the couch with a nonchalant shrug:
"Why didn't you wait for the warriors to arrive?"
Adrian replied coldly, as if the words meant nothing to him:
"No big deal, you see."
The Alpha stopped writing abruptly, his grip tightening around the pen before he slammed it onto the desk. He rose to his feet, hitting the tabletop with his fist, his voice laced with restrained anger:
"If this had been a trap, what would you have done?"
Despite his anger, he couldn't hide the underlying fear of losing him.
Adrian met his gaze indifferently and answered dryly:
"Nothing."
That response was like a match tossed into a haystack. Harlan's eyes blazed with fury at his brother's defiance. He didn't know how much longer he could tolerate his stubbornness.
The air in the room grew tense, and poor Arkoun found himself trapped between them, scrambling for a way to ease the tension. Clearing his throat, he tried to redirect the Alpha's focus:
"Alpha, do you think it was just a coincidence that the Rogues entered the border, or is there something more behind it?"
Silence. That question carried enough weight to shift the atmosphere. It was no longer just a quarrel between an Alpha and his reckless brother—now, a darker possibility loomed: What if it wasn't just a coincidence? What if danger was lurking nearby?
Harlan clenched his jaw and shot Adrian an exasperated look before saying with heavy sarcasm:
"We were supposed to capture them to find out who sent them… But thanks to someone, we'll never know!"
Adrian responded with calm practicality, acknowledging his mistake:
"I engaged them and assessed their strength. They were too weak to pose a real threat to a pack member. Their exhaustion was evident. It's possible they simply wandered across the border in search of food."
Harlan frowned, rubbing his fingers through his brown beard as he considered Adrian's words. He hummed thoughtfully, nodding slowly before responding:
"Still, that doesn't mean they had no other purpose for being here—especially at this time of year."
Their discussion was abruptly interrupted when the door slammed open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late sixties strode in. Despite his age, he carried himself with the power and presence of a warrior. He bore a striking resemblance to Harlan…
He was the former Alpha—Longin.
His sharp eyes swept across the room before landing on Adrian, who instinctively tensed. His father's piercing gaze always carried an unspoken weight—a silent rebuke before any words were spoken.
For a brief moment, relief flickered across Longin's features upon seeing his son unharmed. But when he finally spoke, his voice was laced with biting sarcasm, though the underlying emotion was clear—anger and fear:
"Thank the gods you didn't lose a limb this time."
Adrian met his words with an innocent smile, which only fueled his father's frustration.
Longin's voice rose, filled with exasperation and a deep, lingering fear:
"Anyone seeing that smile would think you're a harmless lamb! When will you stop your reckless behavior? How long will you continue like this?"
The raw emotion in his tone was unmistakable. He was exhausted from Adrian's actions—terrified of losing another child. He had already lost one… He refused to lose another.
Harlan quickly intervened, hoping to de-escalate the situation:
"Don't worry, Dad. Adrian called for reinforcements, but he didn't need them. He handled everything on his own. By the time the guards arrived, he was already on his way back."
Harlan glanced at Adrian for confirmation.
Finally, Adrian spoke, his tone carrying quiet confidence:
"What Harlan said is true, Father. And besides, you know I'm the strongest in the pack. A few rogues wouldn't stand a chance against me."
He ended his words with a smirk, laced with feigned arrogance. But Longin's expression remained unreadable.
Without warning, he stepped forward and struck Adrian—a solid punch.
Adrian didn't flinch. He remained unmoving, as if it had been nothing more than a passing breeze.
Longin grasped his arm firmly and spoke in a stern voice, his grip like iron:
"Come with me. Stand up and follow."
Adrian didn't resist.
Longin strode out of the room with firm, deliberate steps, and without a word, Adrian followed.