Loving Young

Chapter X

The rest of the days blurred together. Every morning, I'd report to Cyrus, following him as we assessed damages across the pack. We visited every corner—the nursery, the homes needing repairs, even the medical quarters. My afternoons were a string of reports for Josh, noting down every issue, every tentative plan. I tried to stay focused, to stay engaged, but I felt myself looking for him even when I didn't mean to.

I'd catch glimpses of Darius now and then, but he kept his distance, giving little more than nods or quick glances before disappearing. He seemed determined to avoid me, his nonchalant expression like a wall. I tried breaking through it—brushing his arm as I passed, attempting casual conversation—but he barely responded, always pulling back, never gaving me more than a polite nod or a clipped response.

It might've been easier to accept if it weren't for Kaitlyn. She seemed to be everywhere he was, both of them coming back from the woods with smudges of dirt on their clothes, a small smile ghosting over his face as he wiped at his mouth. They whispered things meant for each other's ears, and I hated how the sound carried, leaving a gnawing ache in my stomach. They shared glances that lingered, little touches that left me with a frustration I couldn't shake. It stung.

I leaned back in my chair, dragging a hand down my face. I'd been sharpening my knives for the past hour, yet the usual calm it brought me felt useless now. It was as if everything I'd once thought about the mate bond—the connection, the spark—was taunting me. Maybe I'd been naive, imagining some grand pull between us, something beyond words. But watching him with her forced me to confront the sharp reality that maybe I was alone in this, waiting for something he was giving to someone else.

My room felt stifling, thick with my own doubts. I tossed my knife onto the desk, watching it spin to a stop, and grabbed my jacket. A walk, maybe the cool night air, might help clear my head. Slipping out into the hallway, I made my way outside, the chill biting through the air, sharp enough to shake some of the tension loose. The forest loomed dark and quiet, with a scattering of moonlight slipping through the trees, guiding me along the narrow path. I wasn't sure where I was headed; I just needed to move.

Rounding a corner, the steady rhythm of movement caught my attention. I paused, listening, and followed the sounds until I reached a clearing.

Darius was there, alone, working through a series of drills. His back was to me, his movements fluid and relentless as he struck at an invisible opponent. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed with each strike, his body taut with focus. Even from this distance, I could see the intensity in his eyes, the way he seemed to channel everything into each motion.

He looked... troubled. The sight of it surprised me, leaving me rooted in place, but before I could turn to leave, his gaze lifted, catching mine.

For a heartbeat, we stood in silence. He slowed his movements, his breaths ragged as he let his fists drop to his sides, shoulders rising and falling with each inhale.

"Couldn't sleep either?" My voice was quiet, almost an afterthought, breaking the silence between us.

He held my gaze, then nodded, running a hand across his forehead. He shifted, looking away.

I took a step forward, unwilling to let the moment slip. "Something on your mind?" I pressed, feeling a flicker of frustration at his silence.

He turned back to me, brow arched, "And that matters to you...how?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Look," I started, my patience thinning, "It's past midnight, and you're alone out here, punching shadows. Considering the recent rogue attacks, I'd say it's worth asking."

His jaw clenched, the brief flash of irritation visible before he dropped his gaze, his posture tightening. "I needed to work off some steam." His words came out as a mutter, almost reluctant.