Johan’s POV

They thought I wouldn’t come.

They thought I would wait — let the bond simmer, let it unravel slowly, let him forget how it felt when he first breathed me in.

But I don’t forget.

Not his scent — fire and moonlight and something forbidden.

Not the sound of his fear when he ran from me, sweet and sharp like a hunted thing.

Not the bond snapping taut when he collapsed in the forest, his heat flooding the air like a silent cry.

He’d screamed without making a sound.

And I heard every note.

So no.

I wasn’t waiting anymore.

My wolf was near the surface as I entered their land.

I didn’t cloak my scent. I didn’t approach quietly.

I let them feel me coming — like a storm breaking across the ridgelines. The wind changed first. Then the birds stopped. Then the shadows scattered.

By the time I reached the threshold of their sacred lands, two dozen guards were already in formation.

None of them moved.

They could feel it, too.

I was not like them.

I didn’t stop until I stood at the foot of the ancient gate, carved with sigils older than most languages. My Beta, Tiger, stood at my side — silent, stone-faced.

They opened the gate for us.

Not because they trusted me.

Because they feared what would happen if they didn’t.

The family mansion was built into the cliffside, wrapped in silk and stone, like something from myth. I didn’t look at it. I could smell him. He was here. Fresh.

My wolf howled inside my chest, teeth bared. The bond was blistering now, howling for contact.

But I kept walking.

Straight into the gathering hall.

They were waiting.

North’s mother.

His grandmother.

A dozen sentinels in ceremonial robes. They stood like carved statues, the old blood of the Silverpine pack humming through the walls.

Power.

But not enough.

Not against me.

I stopped in the center of the room, uninvited, unbent.

And I said the words they had feared since the moment they realized who I was:

“Where is he?”

Silence.

His grandmother met my gaze without flinching. “He does not belong to you.”

I took a step forward. “He does. He always has. You kept him hidden. Cloaked. You drugged him to suppress the bond, hoping it would never wake.”

“You are dangerous,” she said quietly.

“I am,” I agreed. “But not to him.”

His mother’s jaw tightened. “You stalked his movements. Pushed him into heat—”

“I never touched him,” I growled. “Never forced him. I waited. He felt me and ran. You think I want an omega who fears me?” My voice dropped to a snarl. “I want him whole. I want him aware. I want him standing on his own two feet when he chooses me.”

They faltered.

Because they didn’t expect that.

Didn’t expect restraint from a man like me.

Didn’t understand that love from a predator doesn’t come in sweet phrases.

It comes in control. In pain. In the kind of obsession that builds temples in the bones of your ribs.

“I came here because I won’t let you poison him further,” I said. “I’ll take him with me Or you can prepare for war.”

The grandmother rose.

Slowly.

Her eyes blazed like starlight.

“Do you understand what you’re declaring?”

“Yes.”

“We are not weak.”

“Neither are we.”

She studied me. Long. Hard.

Then: “If he says no—”

“He won’t.”

That came out sharper than I meant.

But it was true.

I had felt the bond scream when he left me.

I had felt his grief as he tried to cut me out.

You don’t feel that kind of sorrow unless you want the person you’re running from.

You don’t ache that way unless part of you already belongs.

They didn’t answer.

I didn’t expect them to.

I turned away.

I wasn’t here to debate.

As I walked through the corridor, I passed an old shrine. Wild moonflowers crushed beneath rain. Sweet citrus and cold steel. The scent of him.

My throat tightened.

North.

You’re here. You’re so close.

But you’re hurting.

And I’m the reason.

For now.

But not forever.