Chapter 28 The Wall

Chapter 28 The Wall


The days that followed were the longest of my life. Time moved differently now, each hour a slow drip of agony, each minute a fresh reminder of everything I had lost. The memory of his kisses still burned on my lips, a phantom warmth that refused to fade. But the man himself had become a ghost.

Garrick moved through the pack like a shadow of his former self. I saw him across courtyards, through windows, at a distance that felt like oceans. He never looked at me. Never acknowledged my existence. When our paths crossed inevitably in corridors or at meals, he walked past like I was furniture, like I was air, like I had never pressed my body against his and whispered words of love under the moon.

The pack noticed. Of course they noticed. Whispers followed me everywhere, a constant rustling current of speculation and suspicion. What had happened between the Alpha and his prisoner? What had I done to earn his coldness? Why had the guarded warmth he'd shown me vanished overnight?

Only Eira knew the truth, and she kept it locked behind her old, knowing eyes. She watched me wither and said nothing, waiting for me to find my own way through the darkness.

"Give him time," she said finally, when the silence had stretched into a week. We were in the healing ward, the only sounds the soft breathing of sleeping patients and the clink of mortar and pestle. "He is fighting his own nature. It will not last."

I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "It has already lasted too long."

"He is protecting you the only way he knows how."

"By destroying me?" My voice cracked. "By erasing me from his existence? By making me feel like I imagined everything that happened between us?"

Eira set down her pestle and met my eyes. "He watched his mother die because of his enemies. He held his sister while she bled out in his arms. Every person he has ever loved has been taken from him, Anika. Every single one. He does not know how to love without preparing for loss. It is the only way he has survived."

The words hit like stones, heavy and cold. I wanted to hate him for his cowardice. I wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. But underneath the fury, underneath the heartbreak, a small, stubborn part of me understood. And that understanding was its own kind of torture.

I threw myself into work. It was the only escape, the only way to silence the endless loop of memories playing in my head. I treated patients until my hands cramped and my eyes burned. I volunteered for every difficult case, every long night, every task no one else wanted. If I could not have him, I could at least be useful. I could at least prove that my presence here meant something beyond the wreckage of my heart.

The warriors noticed. Some of them softened toward me, seeing my dedication, my willingness to get my hands dirty. They nodded to me in passing, offered brief words of thanks for healed wounds and soothed fevers. Others grew more suspicious, watching me with narrowed eyes. Surely I was angling for something, manipulating someone, playing a long game they could not see. A prisoner did not work this hard without an ulterior motive.

Orion remained my constant shadow, his silent presence a comfort and a torment. He never asked questions, never commented on my frayed nerves or red-rimmed eyes. He simply watched and waited, a good soldier following orders that had not been rescinded. Garrick had not called him off. Garrick had not done anything at all.

That night, I could not sleep. I lay in my narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, seeing his face every time I closed my eyes. The pain in his gaze when he had told me he could not do this. The way his voice broke when he said my name. The ghost of his touch on my skin.

I rose before dawn and walked through the silent lodge. I did not plan where I was going. My feet simply carried me, drawn by a force I could not name.

I ended up outside his door.

I stood there for a long time, my hand raised to knock, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. What would I say? What could I possibly say that would bridge the chasm between us?

The door opened before I could decide.

Garrick stood there, shirtless, his hair disheveled, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He looked as though he had not slept either. The sight of him, so close, so real, stole the breath from my lungs. The heat of his body reached for me across the threshold, and the familiar electricity crackled between us, undiminished by days of silence.

His eyes widened when he saw me. For one heartbeat, the mask slipped, and I saw everything. The love. The longing. The agony of wanting something he was too afraid to take.

Then the wall came down.

"You should not be here." His voice was rough, ragged.

"I know." I stepped forward, crossing the threshold without permission. He did not stop me. "But I am not leaving. Not this time."

"Anika." My name was a warning and a plea.

I reached up and placed my hand on his bare chest, right over his heart. It hammered against my palm, a wild, desperate rhythm that matched my own. "I know why you push people away."

He went rigid under my touch. 

"I am not them, Garrick. I am not going to be taken from you. I am not going to die. And I am not going to let you push me away because you are afraid."

His hand came up, covering mine where it rested on his chest. His eyes burned with a tortured fire. "You cannot promise that. No one can."

"I can promise to stay. I can promise to fight. I can promise that whatever comes, we face it together." I rose on my toes, bringing my face closer to his. "That is all anyone can promise. That is all love ever is."

He stared at me, his chest heaving, his eyes searching mine for something I hoped he would find. The seconds stretched into an eternity.

Then his control shattered.

He crushed me against him, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was desperate and fierce and full of everything he could not say. I kissed him back with equal fervor, my arms wrapping around his neck, my body molding to his. The heat between us was instantaneous, a fire that had been smoldering for days finally blazing to life.

He walked me backward into his room, kicking the door shut behind us. His hands were everywhere, in my hair, on my back, gripping my hips and pulling me closer. I gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss until I could not think, could not breathe, could not do anything but feel.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his hands still gripping me as if he was afraid I would disappear.

"I love you," he whispered, the words torn from somewhere deep. "I love you so much it terrifies me."

"I know." I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. "But you do not get to be afraid alone anymore. We are in this together. All of it."

He looked at me for a long, searching moment. Then slowly, so slowly, a smile touched his lips. It was small and fragile, but it was real. It was hope.

He kissed me again, softer this time, a promise instead of a demand. And as he pulled me toward his bed, as the night wrapped around us and the world outside faded away, I knew that the wall between us had finally begun to crumble. It would take time. It would take work. But for the first time since we had found each other again, I believed we might actually make it through.