I needed to run.
The training academy had trails that cut through the forest behind the main compound. They were marked, maintained, safe. I'd been using them every morning since I arrived, pushing my body until my wolf stirred enough to feel real again.
Today I went farther than usual. The marked trail ended at a creek, but I kept going, following the water upstream until the trees thickened and the ground turned soft with moss. My wolf was awake now, pacing inside me, restless but not panicked. Just present.
That's when I saw it.
A cluster of pale blue flowers growing at the base of an old oak. Delicate petals, almost translucent in the filtered sunlight. I stopped running and crouched down, careful not to disturb the stems.
Lunar Bellflower. I'd only ever seen it in my field journal, pressed between pages from a specimen I'd found years ago. It was supposed to be rare this far south.
I pulled out my phone and took a photo. The angle wasn't great—too much shadow—but it captured the color, the shape. I opened the mind-link to Kara without thinking and attached the image.
*Found something,* I sent.
Then I realized the training link was still open. The one I shared with Maximus. I'd copied him by accident.
I stared at the screen. I could unsend it. Or I could just leave it. It was only a flower. It didn't mean anything.
I left it.
I stood up, brushed the dirt off my knees, and started the run back. My wolf settled as I moved, falling into the rhythm of my stride. The rejection pain was still there—it always was—but it felt distant today. Manageable.
By the time I reached my quarters, I'd almost forgotten about the photo.
Almost.
My phone buzzed as I stepped inside.
The message came through the training link. Maximus.
*Where did you find it?*
I blinked at the screen. Three words. Simple. Direct.
Another buzz.
*Did it make you happy?*
I sat down on the edge of my bed. My hands were steady, but something in my chest twisted. Not pain. Something else.
Another message.
*The soil looks rich. There might be more nearby. Worth checking tomorrow if you want company.*
I read the messages twice. Three times. He'd asked where I found it. Whether it made me happy. Whether I wanted company looking for more.
Corey used to leave me on read when I sent him things like this. Or he'd respond hours later with something flat and dismissive. *You're so childish, Had.* Once, after I'd sent him a photo of a butterfly I'd found on a training break, he'd told me I needed to focus on things that mattered.
I pressed my thumb into my opposite palm. The sting helped.
I didn't respond to Maximus. I set the phone down, face-up on the bed, and stared at it until the screen went dark.
I didn't block the link either.
---
Two days later, I stepped outside my quarters and stopped.
There was a garden.
Not a garden. The garden. Lunar Bellflower, planted in careful rows along the stone path leading to the training field. Dozens of them. Maybe more. The pale blue petals caught the morning light, delicate and perfect.
I stood there for a long time. My wolf stirred, curious, but I didn't move. I just looked at the flowers and tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
No note. No announcement. Just flowers.
I knew who planted them.
My chest tightened. Not with pain this time. With something I didn't have a name for.
I pressed my thumb into my palm. Hard. The sting grounded me, pulled me back from whatever edge I was standing on.
I went back inside without seeking him out.
That night, I slept without the rejection pain waking me. For the first time since the banquet, I slept all the way through until morning.
---
Corey felt wrong.
His wolf had been restless since the banquet. Pacing. Whining. Pushing at the edges of his control in ways that made no sense. He was Alpha now—officially. The ceremony had gone perfectly. Amora was by his side. Everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.
But his wolf wouldn't settle.
During a pack training session, his aura flickered. Just for a second. Not long enough to be obvious. But long enough that a few of his wolves glanced at each other, their expressions uncertain.
He dismissed them early and went to his office.
The silence was worse inside his own head. His wolf, usually a constant presence—vocal, commanding, eager—had gone quiet. Not gone. Just… absent. Like it was there but refusing to speak.
He tried to reach for it. Tried to coax it forward. Nothing.
It's temporary, he told himself. Stress from the ceremony. Adjustment to the new role. It would pass.
But deep down, in a place he didn't want to examine, he knew what it was.
Hadlee.
Her absence sat in him like a hollow. He hadn't realized how much space she took up—how much her quiet, unconditional presence had steadied him—until it was gone. Until he'd destroyed it himself.
He pushed the thought away. He had Amora. He had his pack. He had everything he was supposed to want.
His wolf stayed silent.
He told himself it didn't matter.
