Chapter 120 120

Chapter 120 120

Silvia appeared at my door a few minutes later, her presence a quiet, familiar comfort. She didn't need to say anything; the look in her eyes told me it was time for lunch. I stood up, smoothing out my clothes, and followed her out into the hallway. We walked down the grand staircase in a companionable silence, the kind that only exists between people who truly understand one another. There were no forced conversations or awkward attempts to fill the air. Just genuine, easy smiles shared between us as we descended toward the dining hall.

As we moved through the common areas, the usual shift in the room occurred. Pack members paused in their tracks, bowing their heads in a display of deep-rooted submission as I passed by. In the past, this gesture had always sparked a flicker of internal conflict. I used to feel a strange mix of confusion and guilt, as if I were pretending to be someone I wasn't, forcing myself to mimic the grace and authority expected of my position. Today, however, that tension was gone. I didn't overthink the hierarchy or the weight of their gaze.

I simply existed within it. I waved back, acknowledging them with a natural ease that surprised even me. It wasn't an act anymore; it was just how things were.

Lunch was, by all accounts, perfect. The food was excellent, the company was steady, and the atmosphere in the dining hall was warm. Yet, despite the physical comfort of the meal, my mind was a chaotic mess. It kept drifting, pulling me away from the table and toward a single, nagging thought: Adrian.

Where was he? The question looped in my head like a broken record. Was he actually coming, or had I misread everything? Maybe he had reconsidered. Maybe, after everything, he had decided it wasn't worth the effort and had given up already. The thought stung more than I wanted to admit. I kept my face carefully neutral, chewing my food and nodding at the right moments, refusing to let a single drop of my internal spiraling show on the surface. I didn't voice my concerns. I didn't ask Silvia if she had heard anything. I just sat there, trapped in the loud silence of my own doubts, waiting for a person who might not even be on his way.

Even after the plates were cleared and the dining hall began to empty, there was no sign of him. I found myself walking toward the main entrance of the pack house, drawn there by a restless energy I couldn't shake. I stepped out onto the porch and leaned against the frame, my eyes fixed on the horizon. The landscape was vast and still, the road stretching out like an empty promise. I watched for the smallest cloud of dust, the distant sound of an engine, or any movement that suggested a visitor was approaching.

Nothing. The world stayed stubbornly quiet.

I stayed there for what felt like an eternity, my hope slowly eroding with every minute that passed. Eventually, the cold reality started to set in. He wasn't coming. I felt a heavy thud in my chest, a mixture of embarrassment for caring so much and a deep, hollow disappointment. I let out a long, shaky breath and began to turn around, ready to retreat back into the house and hide away in my room.

Then, I saw it.

A flash of metal caught the light in the distance. My heart skipped a beat, then immediately began to race, drumming against my ribs with a frantic rhythm. I fully turned back, my hands gripping the railing as the vehicle came into clearer view. It was a car, moving steadily toward the gates. I held my breath, my entire body tense with anticipation. Is it him? Please, let it be him.

The car slowed as it entered the parking area, turning into a spot with a practiced ease. I stood frozen, my eyes locked on the driver’s side door. It opened, and a figure stepped out. But as the man straightened up and looked toward the house, the rush of adrenaline vanished, replaced by a cold wave of letdown.

It wasn't Adrian. It was Alpha Ezra, my sister’s mate.

I forced myself to keep standing there, even though I wanted to sink into the floorboards. I truly liked Ezra; he was a good man and he treated my sister with a devotion that was beautiful to witness. I was genuinely happy for them. But in that specific moment, seeing his face felt like a cruel joke. I had built up such a specific expectation in my mind that anyone else felt like an intruder on my hope. I struggled to mask the shadow of disappointment that I knew was written all over my features.

Ezra walked up the path toward me, his expression polite and composed. He offered a greeting as he reached the steps, his voice calm and friendly. I knew it wasn't his fault that he wasn't the person I was looking for, and I certainly couldn't take my internal frustration out on him. I took a shallow breath, forced my lips into a polite smile, and responded with as much warmth as I could muster. I gestured for him to head inside, playing the role of the gracious host while my heart felt like lead.

I remained on the porch for a few seconds after he disappeared into the house. The silence of the horizon felt even heavier now. I gave myself a mental shake, frustrated by my own reaction. Get it together, I told myself. It was okay if he wasn't coming. It had to be okay. I wasn't some fragile, clingy girl who sat by the window waiting for a man to validate her existence. I was a warrior. I had been trained to endure, to fight, and to stand on my own two feet regardless of who showed up or who stayed away. This lingering, desperate longing was beneath me, and it was starting to make me feel weak.

"I need to move," I whispered to the empty air.

Inside my head, Alexa, my wolf, hummed in immediate agreement. She was just as restless as I was, her instincts pacing back and forth against the walls of my mind. She wanted a release just as badly as I did. She wanted to run, to strike, to feel the strain of muscle and the rush of blood.

I turned and walked back into the house, heading straight for my bedroom. I moved with a new sense of purpose, stripping off my lunch attire and pulling on something more functional—clothes that allowed for movement and sweat. I tied my hair back tightly, my reflection in the mirror looking back at me with hard, determined eyes. I didn't want to think about Adrian anymore. I didn't want to think about the road or the parking lot or the way my heart had plummeted when Ezra stepped out of that car.

I went back downstairs, but I steered clear of the main entrance this time. I didn't want to run into anyone else, and I definitely didn't want to go to the main training grounds where the rest of the pack would be lounging or sparring. I didn't feel like being social, and I certainly didn't want anyone watching me while I worked through this mess of emotions. Instead, I headed for the private garden located directly behind the house, tucked away right below my bedroom window. It was a quiet spot, shielded by greenery and stone, and it was exactly what I needed.

The moment I stepped onto the grass, I didn't hesitate. I didn't stretch or warm up in the traditional sense; I just exploded into motion. I began to go through my forms, my limbs moving with a calculated, aggressive precision. Each strike was a physical manifestation of the anxiety that had been building in my chest all morning.

I threw a punch into the air, imagining the resistance, feeling the snap in my shoulder. That was for the waiting. I pivoted and delivered a kick, my foot cutting through the air with a whistle. That was for the disappointment. I moved faster, my breathing becoming heavy and rhythmic, the sweat starting to bead on my forehead.

I let it all out—the frustration of being ignored, the impatience of a day spent watching a road, and the lingering fear that I was making a fool of myself. I moved like a woman possessed, my shadows stretching across the garden floor as I danced through the drills. Every turn, every block, every simulated attack was a way to reclaim my own skin.

In the heat of the exertion, the world outside the garden walls began to fade. The image of the empty horizon blurred, and the sound of my own heartbeat became the only thing that mattered. I wasn't waiting for a car anymore. I wasn't waiting for a message or a sign. I was just there, in the dirt and the heat, proving to myself that I was still strong, still capable, and still whole, whether he showed up or not.

The physical strain was a relief. It was a language I understood far better than the complicated, messy emotions of the morning. With every movement, I felt the "clingy bitch" I had feared becoming start to wither away, replaced by the warrior I actually was.