⊰ 116 ⊱ Brother of My Bones

⊰ 116 ⊱ Brother of My Bones
| Penelope |

I can barely see through my tears as I make my way back to my room. The halls of Rook’s fortress blur around me, faces of passing pack members nothing more than indistinct shapes. My confrontation with Malachi replays in my mind.

“If I had to do it over, I’d make the same choice.”

His certainty, his unwavering belief that he had the right to decide our son’s future without me—it burns like acid in my chest.

“At least I broke my word trying to get back to you. You broke yours pulling away from me.”

And the worst part is, I can’t entirely dismiss his accusation. The mark on my neck throbs as if to remind me of its presence. To remind me of the bond I now share with Jax despite my every intention to remain faithful to Malachi.

When I reach my room, I find Kira sitting in the rocking chair by the window, Elio awake in her arms. She looks up as I enter, concern immediately washing over her face.

“You look like you’ve been through war,” she says softly.

I don’t trust my voice, so I simply nod and reach for my son. The moment Elio is in my arms, pressed against my heart, some of the tension drains from my body. He makes a small cooing sound, his tiny hand reaching up to touch my face.

“You saw Malachi,” Kira states, not a question.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, cradling Elio closer. “I confronted him about the arrangement with Jackson.”

She doesn’t ask for details, and I’m grateful. Instead, she moves quietly around the room, preparing a cup of tea and setting it on the bedside table before slipping out with a gentle squeeze of my shoulder.

As night falls, I can’t sleep. I pace the room with Elio, who seems to sense my distress and remains fussy despite having been fed and changed. Or maybe he’s picking up on something else—something about the conflicting marks on my neck, the tug-of-war between two wolves that now extends to him as well.

By dawn, I’m restless and exhausted. I keep going over and over in my mind everything that’s happened and all I want to do is run. Run from Malachi’s possessiveness and Jax’s patient pursuit. As always, I choose to run.

While Elio finally sleeps, I move quickly, packing a small bag with essentials. I have no idea where I’ll go or how I’ll survive, but anywhere seems better than here.

As the first rays of sunlight filter through my window, I wrap Elio securely against my chest and slip out of my room. The halls are quiet, most of the pack still asleep. I take corridors I’ve carefully mapped during my time here, avoiding the main areas where guards are posted.

The cool morning air hits my face as I step outside, and for a moment, I just breathe it in, savoring the taste of what feels like freedom. Then I begin walking, following a path that leads away from the main grounds, toward the dense forest that surrounds part of the property.

I’ve barely reached the tree line when a voice calls out behind me.

“Going somewhere?”

I freeze, my heart sinking as I turn to face Rook. He stands several yards away, his posture relaxed, almost casual, but his eyes sharp and aware. There’s no anger in his expression, just a quiet assessment.

“I needed air,” I lie, though we both know better.

Rook approaches slowly, hands tucked into his pockets. “With a packed bag and your sleeping son? That must be some serious air you’re after.”

I say nothing, adjusting Elio’s wrap as he stirs against me.

“Where were you planning to go?” Rook asks, genuinely curious. “The island isn’t exactly teeming with options.”

The question deflates me. He’s right, of course. I have nowhere to go, no resources, no plan beyond getting away. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I just... I needed to get out.”

Rook studies me for a long moment, then gestures to a nearby stone bench overlooking the cliffs and the sea beyond. “Sit with me.”

It’s not a command, not exactly, but there’s little point in refusing. I follow him to the bench and sit, keeping my distance, Elio a warm weight against my chest.

For several minutes, we simply sit in silence, watching the waves crash against the rocks below. When Rook finally speaks, his tone is different from any I’ve heard from him before—gentler, without the usual undercurrent of Alpha authority.

“You know, we used to sit like this as children,” he says, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Our mother would bring us to a cliff much like this one. She’d tell us stories about our ancestors while we watched the eagles soar over the valleys.”

I turn to look at him, surprised by this glimpse into our shared past. “I don’t remember.”

“You were always more interested in the flowers than the stories,” he says, a faint smile touching his lips. “You’d wander off to pick wildflowers while I sat rapt, hanging on her every word about battles and alliances and royal duties.”

For a moment, I can almost see it—a small version of myself gathering flowers while our mother’s voice carried on the wind. But the image is more imagination than memory.

“What do you want from me, Rook?” I ask finally, cutting through the momentary warmth of his reminiscence.

He seems taken aback by the directness of my question. “What do you mean?”

“Since the moment you took me, you’ve been playing some game, using me as a piece on the board. So what is it that you want?”

Rook shifts to face me more directly. “What I want doesn’t matter right now. What do you want from me?”

The question catches me off guard. In all my time here, no one has asked what I want—not really. Rook, Malachi, Jax—they’ve all been so busy deciding what’s best for me, fighting over me like I’m a prize to be won.

“I want you to free my son from the arrangement Malachi made,” I say finally, the words rushing out before I can reconsider. “I want Elio to have the freedom to choose his own path, his own mate.”

Rook’s expression softens with what looks almost like pity. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” I demand, my voice rising. “You’re an Alpha. You have power, influence. Surely you could—”

“It’s not about my power or influence,” he interrupts gently. “Blood oaths between Alphas are binding in ways that go beyond mere promises. Breaking such an oath would have consequences far beyond what you're imagining.”

I feel tears of frustration burning behind my eyes, but before they can fall, Rook continues.

“Besides, an arranged marriage isn’t the worst fate that could befall him.” His gaze turns distant, thoughtful. “Our parents were an arranged match, you know.”

This pulls me up short. “They were?”

Rook nods. “A political alliance between territories. And yet, to this day, people still speak of how deeply they loved each other. Their arranged beginning didn’t prevent them from finding genuine happiness together.”

“But it’s not about that,” I argue, though with less conviction than before. “It’s about choices. About letting him decide—”

“Choices,” Rook repeats, a contemplative note in his voice. “Tell me, Penelope. In your life, when were you better off? When you had a world of choices at your fingertips but were barely scraping by? Or when you learned to accept Malachi’s leadership and found yourself with more than you ever dreamed possible—including a son?”

His words hit closer to home than I’d like to admit. My life before Malachi had been one of constant struggle, working multiple jobs just to make rent on my tiny apartment. Unlimited freedom, yes, but also unlimited hardship. With Malachi, despite his dominant nature, I’d found security, comfort, and a love I never expected.

“That’s different,” I say weakly.

“Is it?” Rook challenges. “We like to think of freedom as the ultimate virtue, but structure—even constraints—can provide a foundation for greater happiness than endless choice ever could.”

I stare out at the ocean, turning his words over in my mind. There’s a wisdom in them I hadn’t expected, a perspective that challenges my instinctive rebellion against what Malachi has done.

“You’re defending him,” I say finally. “Taking his side.”

Rook shakes his head. “I have no hat in this ring—Malachi or Jax. In a perfect world, instead of you being caught in this mess, I’d have scouted them both beforehand and simply told you which man would make you happier.”

So he’s not biased. Even after everything…

I sit with this for a long moment, silence stretching between us as the waves crash below. Finally, I voice the question I’m almost afraid to ask: “And who is the better man?”

A slow smile spreads across Rook’s face, neither warm nor cold, but knowing. “When this is all over,” he says, rising to his feet, “I’ll let you know.”

He offers me his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. Elio stirs against me, making soft baby sounds as he wakes.

“Your son is hungry,” Rook says. “Let’s get you both back inside.”

As we walk back toward the fortress, I find myself looking at Rook with new eyes. He really is my brother. Not just my kidnapper or a calculating Alpha, but the brother I never knew I wanted.

“Would you tell me about them?” I ask quietly. “Our parents?”

Rook glances at me, surprise and something like pleasure flickering in his eyes. “I’d like that,” he says simply.