Chapter 43
Rhianna’s POV
The pack was alive again.
The moment Hardin returned, everything changed — the air, the mood, even the way people stood straighter when he walked by. They said he’d driven the bandit hunters out of the borders, that he’d fought like a storm. Everywhere I turned, I heard his name. Hardin this, Hardin that.
He’d become their hero again.
Sebastian hated when people praised his brother, and deep down, I knew this peace wouldn’t last.
I slipped away from the noise. The celebration, the talking, the constant clapping — it was too much. My head buzzed with it. I just needed a minute to breathe.
Behind the pack house, near the training yard, there was an old bench I used to sit on after patrols. That’s where I went. The sun had already dropped, the air damp with the smell of rain and pine. My fingers itched — not for calm, but for something to quiet the thoughts that wouldn’t stop circling.
So I reached into my pocket and pulled out a cigarette.
I used to smoke years ago, before everything became complicated. Before I had to start pretending to be perfect.
The lighter clicked, the flame catching weakly before the tip glowed red. The first drag burned, sharp in my throat, but it felt real. Like something I could control, even if it was bad for me.
I didn’t hear him until it was too late.
“Rhianna?”
I froze, the cigarette halfway to my lips. Hardin’s voice was low, rough from the cold air. I turned sharply, hiding the smoke behind me like a guilty child.
He stepped closer, his boots crunching on the gravel. “You smoke now?”
I looked away, embarrassed. “I used to… I just—needed it.”
His brows drew together, that same old look of concern I’d known since we were kids. “You shouldn’t.”
I gave a small laugh. “You sound like Tia.”
He didn’t laugh back. His eyes drifted to my hand, the faint trail of smoke curling behind me. “You quit for years, Rhi. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s just one.”
He sighed, stepped closer, and gently took the cigarette from my hand. He crushed it between his fingers and tossed it aside. “You shouldn’t be hiding things like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound like I killed someone.”
“Sometimes,” he said softly, “the little things kill you slowly too.”
I didn’t reply. His voice carried too much truth in it.
After a long silence, he said, “I heard about Brittany.”
My chest tightened. “What about her?”
“That she’s staying here. That she’s pregnant.”
“Who told you?”
He gave me a dry look. “Half the pack. You can’t exactly hide something like that.”
I looked down at my hands. The anger, the shame, the hurt — they all tangled up together until I couldn’t tell which one I felt more.
He leaned against the post beside me, arms crossed. “Why are you still here, Rhianna? Why do you keep tolerating all this?”
I lifted my head sharply. “Because leaving isn’t an option.”
“Of course it is,” he said. “You just don’t want to take it.”
I shook my head. “You don’t understand, Hardin. He’s my mate. My husband. I can’t just—”
He cut in quietly, “He’s also the man who’s been breaking you piece by piece. I saw the bruise on your neck before I left. Don’t tell me it was an accident.”
My breath caught. “Don’t start this.”
“I’m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “You deserve peace. You don’t deserve to stay in a place that hurts you.”
“Please,” I whispered. “Not now.”
He looked at me for a long moment, his jaw tight, his voice low. “Come with me, Rhi. We can leave tonight. I’ll take you far away from here. Away from him. Away from all of this.”
I stared at him, completely still.
The way he said it — calm, firm, like he’d already decided — made my chest ache.
“Hardin…”
“You don’t have to be strong anymore,” he said, his tone softening. “You’ve carried enough. Let someone else protect you for once.”
I took a shaky breath. “You can’t just show up and tell me to leave my whole life behind.”
“I can,” he said. “Because I see what it’s doing to you.”
His eyes found mine. The same eyes that used to make me laugh when we were young now looked at me like I was something fragile.
“I can’t,” I said finally, barely above a whisper.
He exhaled slowly, looking away. “You’re going to break, Rhi.”
“I already am,” I said, my voice cracking.
That shut him up. The only sound was the wind moving through the trees and the faint murmur of the pack in the distance.
After a moment, he reached out and brushed his thumb gently over my cheek. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be here.”
I swallowed hard, blinking fast. “You shouldn’t care so much.”
“Too late,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper.
He stepped back, the space between us heavy with everything unsaid, and turned toward the path leading back to the main house.
When he disappeared, I sank onto the bench again, my hands trembling. The crushed cigarette still smoked faintly on the ground, curling into the night air — like something dying slowly but refusing to go out.