Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

C aleb paced the length of his small cabin, each step heavy and restless. The moon had risen, the orb full and bright, casting long silver beams through the gaps in the curtains. Its pull was undeniable, a constant hum in his veins, urging him toward her. He tried to ignore it, to push it down, but his wolf was having none of it. The beast inside him stirred, restless and hungry for Rochelle, as it always was when the moon hung high in the sky like this.

But tonight, Caleb refused to go to her.

He had always been the one to give in, the one to follow the pull of the bond, to make sure she was safe, even when she didn’t want him there. He’d stand outside the bank or her home, just watching, making sure she was all right. It had become routine, a habit he couldn’t break. But this time, it had to be her. If Rochelle wanted him—if she really wanted him—then she needed to come to him.

And yet… something gnawed at him. A persistent, uncomfortable feeling that wouldn’t let him settle. He’d tried sitting, standing, even lying down, but every position felt wrong, every muscle in his body too tense. His wolf growled inside him, clawing at his gut, eager to be let out, to run, to find her.

Caleb stood by the window, watching the moon climb higher into the sky. From here, he could see the distant glow of the Moon Festival—the flickering fires, the soft hum of music, the laughter of the pack mingling with the night air. His brothers were there, and most of the pack, too. It was tradition, a celebration of their shared connection with the moon. But Caleb had no interest in joining. Not tonight.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His body thrummed with energy he couldn’t quite place. His feet itched to move. Before he could stop himself, he was out the door, the cool night air brushing against his skin.

He started walking, letting his feet carry him wherever they wanted. He told himself he wasn’t going to the bank. He wasn’t going to check on Rochelle. He was just… walking. Just stretching his legs. But as he moved through the quiet streets, his steps seemed to have a mind of their own, leading him away from the festival, away from the pack, and toward the part of town where the bank stood.

With each step, he felt the pull getting stronger, the bond between him and Rochelle humming more insistently. His wolf perked up. Its ears pricked.

He could see the building in the distance now, its silhouette dark and imposing against the moonlit sky. The closer he got, the more the unease in his chest grew. At first, he ignored it, pushing it down as just another trick of the bond, another way his wolf was trying to manipulate him into seeing Rochelle. But as he approached the bank, that niggling feeling of discomfort sharpened into something more—a sense of wrongness.

Caleb’s steps slowed. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. There was no immediate danger, no sign of distress. But the air felt off, charged with something he couldn’t quite place. And then he caught her scent.

There was something off about it. She wasn’t scared. But she didn’t smell quite right either. His wolf bristled, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Something was wrong.

His heart rate quickened, his body tensing as he moved closer. His footsteps were silent now as he approached the bank. His instincts, honed from years of being an enforcer, kicked in, every muscle in his body coiling with readiness. He reached the door and paused, his senses flaring. He could hear voices—her voice, soft but strained—and then the low, oily tone of someone else.

He sniffed. He knew no one in town would dare touch her. But this person, this human, didn't smell familiar.

Caleb’s teeth ground together. His wolf was on high alert now. It paced just beneath the surface, ready to pounce. He heard the man’s voice—too close, too casual, like he had every right to be near Caleb's mate. Caleb didn’t wait another second.

He pushed open the door, the cool air of the bank mixing with the heat of his fury. His eyes locked on the scene in front of him. Rochelle sat at her desk, her body rigid with tension, her eyes wide and uncertain as the human male stood over her. The man's hand brushed against the edge of her desk. The sight of him—so close to her, too close—sent a wave of red-hot rage coursing through Caleb’s veins.

The growl that escaped Caleb’s throat was low, guttural, and unmistakably dangerous.

“Let me take care of you.”

That was Caleb's job. His wolf surged forward, every muscle in his body coiling with the instinct to protect her, to claim her, to remind everyone in this town that she was his—whether she had accepted the bond or not.

The man’s face drained of color. His pupils went wide, filling with fear as he took in the sight of Caleb standing there—more wolf than man, his eyes glowing with barely contained fury.

“Get out.” Caleb didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The dominance in his tone was enough to send a shiver through the air, making it clear that the human's presence was not only unwelcome—it was in serious danger of being snuffed out.

The man took a step back, stumbling slightly as he tried to move away from Rochelle. He glanced at her, then back at Caleb, fear plastered across his face. Without another word, he bolted from the room, practically tripping over himself in his rush to escape. The door slammed behind him, the sound sharp and jarring in the tense silence that followed.

Caleb stood there, his heart still pounding, his wolf still pushing against his control. But when his eyes finally met Rochelle’s, everything inside him stilled.

Her breath was uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t look away. She didn’t push him back. Instead, she just looked at him, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable, as if the walls she had so carefully built were starting to crumble.

Neither of them said a word. The bond between them thrummed with life, stronger now than it had been in years. The pull of it drew him to her, even though they had spent so long pretending it didn’t exist. His wolf wanted to claim her, to close the distance between them, to remind her that she was his—even if she had denied it.

Caleb had never forced the bond. He had never pushed her into accepting what was between them. And yet, standing here now, with her so close, her scent wrapping around him like a warm blanket, it was impossible to ignore.

He turned to go.

She didn't call out to him. But she did reach out to him. For the first time in… well, forever, Rochelle came to him. She leaned into his presence, her body melting into him, as if she had been holding herself together for too long. Caleb’s heart clenched at the sight of her, so strong and yet so fragile in this moment.

He held her, giving her the comfort she needed. She didn't smell afraid. She could've handled that human. She smelled… sad. But that scent was leaching away the tighter he held her.

The pull between them was too strong, the bond too alive. He didn’t want to spook her, didn’t want her to shut him out again. Then she said the three words he'd been waiting all his life to hear from her.

"Take me home."