Mira woke to a strange stillness. For the first time in days, there were no footsteps outside, no murmured whispers or crackling torches. Just the hush of dawn pressing softly against the stone walls.
Her body ached—not from anything done to her, but from everything that hadn't happened. She was still wrapped in the same ceremonial silk, its golden embroidery now slightly creased, her dark hair tumbling in waves over her shoulder as she sat up slowly.
The first thing she noticed wasn't the chill air or the morning light slipping through the carved lattice—it was him.
Ash.
He lay beside her, shirtless, the blankets tangled at his waist, chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. In sleep, the lines of his jaw softened. The cold cruelty he wore like armor during waking hours melted away, leaving behind something unguarded. Almost beautiful.
His lashes were long and dark, casting shadows over high cheekbones. There was a faint scar along his left shoulder—she hadn't noticed that before. His hand rested palm-up beside her, fingers slightly curled, like he might reach for something in his dreams.
stared.
Not because she wanted to. But because something twisted in her chest—something she couldn't name.
He hadn't touched her last night. Not after the ceremony. Not after the elders had pressured them, eyes gleaming with hunger for power and legacy. He'd taken her hand, cold and firm, and led her here. Locked the door. Sat on the edge of the bed for a long time in silence while the fire crackled and her heart raced.
Then he had simply said, "You can sleep. I won't touch you."
And true to his word, he hadn't.
Mira had fallen asleep with her back to him, curled up in the farthest corner of the bed, her emotions in tatters. But now… now she looked at him, and something inside her trembled.
How could someone be so cruel awake… and so heartbreakingly peaceful asleep?
She reached for the edge of the blanket and stood, pulling it around her shoulders. The room was bathed in gray-blue light, the soft hush of morning pressing against her skin like a question.
Mira padded toward the heavy wooden door and slipped outside.
The corridor was quiet, though far from empty. She could sense the life within the stronghold—movement behind closed doors, muffled voices beginning to rise. But she kept walking, needing air, needing distance, needing to breathe without feeling the heat of his nearness.
It wasn't until she reached the edge of the eastern watchtower that she saw Elias.
He stood against the stone ledge, arms crossed, the wind tugging at the ends of his dark cloak. When he turned to look at her, his smile was gentle—but there was something knowing in his eyes.
"Didn't think you'd be up so early," he said, nodding in greeting.
Mira hesitated before stepping closer. "I couldn't sleep."
Elias gestured for her to join him, and she did—wrapping the blanket tighter as she looked out at the waking forest below. Mist still clung to the trees like a veil, and the crimson stain of the Blood Moon still lingered faintly in the sky.
"The ceremony was… intense," she whispered.
Elias chuckled softly. "It always is. They make it feel like the world will end if the Alpha pair doesn't immediately rut like beasts."
Mira blinked at his bluntness, but she didn't flinch. "They wanted us to consummate it. They expected… more."
didn't speak for a long moment. Then, carefully, he said, "But he didn't."
She turned to him, startled. "H-how do you know that?"
Elias looked at her then, not with teasing or pity—but with something older and wiser. "Because I know Ash."
Mira's heart beat painfully in her chest. "You know him now? Or the boy he used to be?"
Elias let out a slow breath. "Both. The Ash you see—the one who snarls and wounds and shuts you out—is real. But so is the one who stood over your bed last night while you slept and made sure no one came near."
She felt her breath catch.
Elias's voice softened. "He didn't touch you, Mira. Because he didn't want to make you hate him more than you already do."
Mira closed her eyes.
The memory of last night shimmered behind her eyelids. The scent of him. The way his voice had dropped when he made that quiet vow not to lay a hand on her. The look in his eyes—guarded, but not cruel.
"Why is he like this?" she whispered. "Why does he act like I'm a burden, when he keeps… protecting me anyway?"
Elias was quiet. Then he said, "Because the more he cares, the more dangerous it becomes."
Mira frowned. "Dangerous for who?"
He didn't answer. Instead, Elias turned back toward the forest, his expression shadowed.
"Ash was trained to kill before he learned how to love. And he was punished every time he chose mercy. That leaves marks."
Mira's throat tightened. "He doesn't need to be cruel."
"No. But it's the only language he believes he speaks fluently."
The wind picked up, rustling Mira's hair. She wrapped the blanket tighter and stared into the horizon. The blood moon had faded, but the heaviness in her heart hadn't.
"He's still a bastard," she muttered.
Elias laughed, low and warm. "Undoubtedly. But maybe not as heartless as he pretends."
They stood in silence after that, two shadows on a tower, both looking toward a future neither of them could quite name. Below, the stronghold stirred. The wolves would rise soon. The council would demand answers. The mating ceremony had not been completed—and that would not go unnoticed.
Mira shivered. Elias turned toward her. "Are you afraid of him?"
She didn't answer right away.
"I was," she admitted. "And part of me still is. But there's another part… that keeps waiting to see the boy he used to be. The one I barely remember."
Elias's gaze softened. "He's still in there, Mira. Just buried."
They stood a while longer before Elias gently touched her shoulder. "If they ask, I'll say the bond was sealed."
Mira jerked her head up. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I know what they'll do if they think it wasn't. They'll start pushing harder. You don't need that kind of pressure. Not now."
She looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time in a long time, she felt something close to gratitude.
"Thank you."
He smiled. Then, behind them, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"What are you doing out here?"
Mira froze.
Ash stood in the archway, eyes locked on her, his jaw tense, his voice low and rough from sleep. His chest was still bare, only a dark cloak now thrown over his shoulders. There were shadows under his eyes, like he hadn't slept much at all.
Mira's heart slammed against her ribs.
Elias straightened, offering a casual smile. "Just catching up."
Ash's gaze didn't move from her. "Get back inside. You'll freeze."
Mira bristled. "I'm fine."
"Now, Mira."
There was no venom in his voice. Just that same cold command. But now she heard something else beneath it—a flicker of something raw. And without a word, she turned and walked past him. But as she passed, her fingers brushed against his. Just a whisper of contact, a question. And Ash didn't pull away.