Loving Young

Chapter II

The first rays of dawn slipped through the window, casting soft beams of light across the room. Despite the peaceful morning, sleep had long abandoned me. I lay still, staring at the ceiling, the weight of my thoughts pressing down like a heavy fog. Words refused to form; instead, a tangled mess churned inside me, tightening with each passing minute.

I shifted under the covers, restless, trying to escape the echo of yesterday's conversation. You can't keep avoiding him forever. Josh's words circled in my head, relentless, adding to the already overwhelming pressure.

Eventually, I threw off the blanket, the cool air pricking at my skin as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet met the cold floor as I rose to my feet. The entire packhouse was silent as everyone else was still lost in sleep.

I needed air, something to clear my mind before the weight of everything suffocated me. Slipping outside, the cool morning breeze greeted me, brushing over my skin in a way that was both refreshing and grounding. The gravel crunched underfoot as I walked toward the tree line, drawn by the need for solitude, the trees standing tall like silent sentinels guarding the edge of the territory.

Just as I reached the treeline, a voice called out from behind me.

"Still here?"

I turned to see Vincent leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and his messy hair catching the soft morning light. His sharp features were softened by concern, and his eyes—piercing blue—watched me closely, like they always did when he sensed something was off.

"Not for long," I muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Josh said you were supposed to leave already. What's keeping you?"

I shrugged, hoping it came off as casual. "Just... packing."

Vincent narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. He stepped closer, the crunch of his boots on the gravel filling the silence between us. "Packing doesn't sound like you. You're usually the first one out when it's pack business."

 I clenched my jaw, looking away. How could I explain this? How could I tell him that the reason for my hesitation had nothing to do with packing and everything to do with the mate waiting for me in that pack—a mate too young.

"Look," Vincent's voice softened, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder, "if you don't want to go, just say the word. We'll figure it out."

I forced a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Nice try, but Josh isn't going to let me off that easy."

Vincent smirked, but it lacked his usual charm. "No, probably not. But this isn't just about the job, is it?"

His words hit harder than I wanted them to. I bit my lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. He always saw right through me.

"It's complicated," I muttered.

He studied me for a moment, weighing his next words carefully. But, as always, he didn't push further. "Fair enough." His eyes flicked toward the trees in the distance. "Heading out for a run?" he asked, his gaze lingering on me,sharp and attentive.

I suddenly became aware of the way I looked—still in my black nightdress, toes curling into the grass as discomfort crept in. His eyes made me feel exposed, my hands instinctively tugging at the hem of my dress, fingers tightening around the fabric as I shifted under his gaze.

"Yeah." I exhaled loudly, the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding escaping in a rush. "I can't sleep."

The itch under my skin, the one that always accompanied the need to shift, was clawing at me. I didn't want this conversation to drag on any longer. I needed the release of running, to shake off the tension that still clung to me.