Chapter 12— Quiet After the Storm
Rhianna’s POV
The hallway was quiet, far too quiet after the chaos in the meeting hall. My fingers trembled as I unscrewed the small pill bottle, the sound of the cap clicking off sounding too loud in the stillness.
I tipped one pill into my palm, swallowing it dry. My throat burned, but I didn’t care. I just needed my chest to stop hurting, needed the pounding in my head to ease.
“You really shouldn’t take those without water.”
The deep, husky voice made me flinch, nearly dropping the bottle.
I spun around, my heart stuttering. “Hardin.”
He stood a few feet away, half-hidden by the dim light. His shirt was open, clinging to his chest where sweat and blood streaked across his skin. His dark hair was damp, hanging messily across his forehead, and his eyes—those dark, unrelenting eyes—were locked on me.
“You scared me,” I whispered.
His lips quirked. “Good. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful about what you put into your body.”
I quickly shoved the bottle back into my pocket, straightening. “It’s just vitamins,” I lied.
Hardin’s brows rose, and he took one slow step closer, then another, until he was close enough for me to catch the faint mix of pine and iron on his skin.
“Vitamins?” His tone was skeptical.
“Yes,” I said, forcing a small smile. “I take them every morning.”
“Mhm.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his broad chest. “You know I’ve known you practically all your life, right? I know when you’re lying, little wolf.”
The nickname sent an unwanted shiver down my spine.
I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance. “I’m fine, Hardin.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, his eyes softened in a way that made it hard to breathe.
“You were shaking during the attack,” he said quietly.
“I wasn’t scared,” I shot back too quickly.
His smirk deepened. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Fine,” I muttered, looking away. “I was a little scared. But who wouldn’t be? There were rogues everywhere.”
He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
“You shouldn’t have fought like that,” I said finally. “You could’ve been killed.”
His grin was slow, wicked. “Worried about me?”
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned. “I was just asking if you’re okay. You were bleeding.”
“It wasn’t my blood,” he said simply.
I exhaled in relief before I could stop myself. His grin widened, like he’d caught me caring.
“You fight like you have something to prove,” I said softly.
He stilled at that, something dark flashing in his gaze.
“Maybe I do.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he shifted, leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes distant.
“When I left,” he said slowly, “I swore I wouldn’t come back until I was strong enough. Until I could protect what was mine. Until I could face Sebastian without wanting to tear him apart for what happened.”
I blinked, startled by the raw honesty in his voice. “What happened?”
His jaw tightened. “You were too young to remember the truth about that night. Everyone made sure of it. But I remember. I remember everything.”
There was a weight in his words that made my chest ache.
“I blamed myself,” he admitted quietly. “For years. For what happened to our parents. For leaving you and the pack behind. I thought if I trained hard enough, fought hard enough, I could make up for it.”
My breath caught. I’d never heard him speak like this—no teasing, no cocky smirk. Just truth.
“You don’t have to carry that alone, Hardin,” I said softly.
His gaze found mine then, so intense it rooted me to the spot. “I’m not worried about carrying it alone. I’m worried about you carrying things you don’t tell anyone about.” His eyes flicked toward my pocket. “Like whatever’s in that bottle.”
My stomach twisted, but I forced a smile. “It’s nothing serious.”
“Liar,” he said, but his voice was gentle now.
I swallowed hard and changed the subject. “Are you okay? After the fight?”
He studied me for a long moment before nodding. “I’ve had worse. I heal fast.”
“I noticed,” I murmured, thinking about the way he moved, like he was made for battle.
He stepped closer then, so close I had to tilt my head back to keep looking at him. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”
“I’m fine,” I whispered, but my voice came out shaky.
“Maybe,” he said, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “But you don’t have to be.”
Before I could respond, a sharp knock echoed down the hall—one of the warriors calling for Hardin’s attention.
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at me, his gaze lingering as if he didn’t want to go.
“This isn’t over, little wolf,” he said quietly. “Take care of yourself. And next time, don’t lie to me.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding and my hands still shaking.