15. THORNE

Chapter 15

THORNE

Sweat stings my eyes, blurring the image of Rylan lunging at me.

I deflect his blow with a snarl, the primal urge to fight a welcome distraction.

"Come on!" I bare my teeth at him, a savage grin on my lips.

Every punch, every kick, is a furious echo of the storm raging inside me.

Back in my pack, surrounded by the familiar scent of pine and damp earth, a part of me feels an echo of comfort.

Yet, somehow, I don't feel good about myself at all. And I know just the reason.

Before I can stop myself, my gaze darts towards the wall separating the training area from the living quarters.

It's a mere barrier, yet it feels like an insurmountable barricade.

Elowen is on the other side, unconscious, and every fiber of my being screams to go to her—to see if she's awake, to hold her hand, to do everything I can to erase the look of betrayal that haunted her eyes. All because of me.

My wolf whines deep in my chest. He feels everything I feel. But not with the control I have.

He strains against the leash of reason, and I have to remind him that charging into Elowen like a lovesick fool is hardly the solution.

But before I can do anything, I am arrested by the press of metal to my throat. The point of Rylan's training sword digs into my skin with a gentle pressure that speaks volumes.

He wouldn't be able to pin me so easily if my head wasn't miles away.

"Lost in thought again, Alpha?" Rylan's voice is a low rumble laced with amusement.

He knows me too well. My best friend, my confidante, the only one who truly understands the burden of leadership and the weight of prophecy.

He knows exactly what I'm thinking. I growl at him for being amused at my expense.

"Just a bit distracted," I manage, my voice hoarse. Pushing myself up, I disarm him with a practiced ease, adrenaline surging through me for the first time.

"Distracted by a certain she-wolf, perhaps?" Rylan raises an eyebrow.

We spar for a few more minutes, but my movements lack the usual intensity. My mind keeps drifting back to Elowen, to the raw vulnerability in her eyes and the way she crumpled to the ground after I'd ripped our bond apart.

To the two burning golden marks on her back. One of the rejected and the second of the fated mate.

Goddess, I was so stupid.

The silence after we break apart hangs heavy. Rylan leans against the wall, watching me. "Talk to me, Thorne."

"There's nothing to say," I lie.

Rylan snorts. "You're a terrible liar, Thorne. Always have been. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

He sighs, his usual bravado replaced by a rare concern. "Look, whatever happened with Elowen… you need to fix it. She's your mate, prophesied or not. And the pack can sense the discord between you and feel the imbalance of power. You can't have that."

His words hit a raw nerve. The pack. I need to get my shit together.

I saw the way they'd stared at Elowen in my arms last night—the way they stared at the mark of the rejected like it was venom.

They saw the shame etched on my face, the guilt that clung to me like a second skin.

They must be wondering what's going on. They need an answer, and I have to give them one soon.

"I know," I groan, running a hand through my hair. "But how? I hurt her, Rylan. How do I even begin to ask for forgiveness after rejecting her like that?"

Rylan never offers easy answers. Instead, he claps me on the shoulder. "You start by showing her, Thorne. Not telling. Show her you regret your words and that your love for her is real. It won't be easy, and it might take time. But you have to give her a reason to trust you again."

Rylan's words offer little comfort and a whole lot of confusion.

Easy for him to say. Show her, not tell her. But how? How do you show regret to a woman you hurt so deeply? Words seem cheap.

"So, what then?" I growl. "Do I follow her around with flowers and puppy dog eyes? Because that feels about as effective as throwing myself off a cliff."

Rylan sighs, sounding weary. "Maybe not that dramatic, Thorne. But flowers aren't a bad start. …" he hesitates, searching for the right words. "Flowers and grand gestures won't erase the hurt, not on their own. You need to show her you understand what you did wrong, that you're willing to put in the work to earn back her trust."

"Work?" The word tastes bitter. But Rylan's right. Forgiveness, especially after a betrayal like mine, won't be handed to me on a silver platter.

It may not be handed to me at all.

"Look," Rylan continues, his voice softening, "I know you want a quick fix, a magic spell that'll make everything okay. But trust isn't built overnight. It's fragile, easily shattered, and takes time and effort to mend."

Frustration flares in me. "Time is a luxury we might not have," I point out, the weight of the prophecy pressing down on me. "The rogues are getting bolder. The pack needs their Alpha and Luna to be a united front."

"And what good is a united front if it's built on a foundation of lies and broken trust? The pack can sense the discord between you, Thorne. It makes them uneasy. Fix things with Elowen, not just for your sake but for the pack's as well. You don't have a Luna unless she agrees. You know that."

His words sting, but they ring true. I need to fix things immediately.

"Alright, alright," I concede, slumping against the wall. "So how do I… show her? Flowers feel weak—grand gestures feel hollow. What do I do, Rylan? You have a lot of females at your side, you should know."

A flicker of empathy shows on his face. "Honestly, Thorne? I don't know." He pauses, rubbing a hand along his jaw. "Females are different creatures altogether. What might work on one might backfire on another."

My frustration boils over. "That's great. Exactly the kind of helpful advice I was looking for."

The sound of footsteps breaks the tense silence. Zane appears around the corner, frowning after he bows at me in deference. "What's going on? You two look like you could chew nails and spit tacks."

Rylan shrugs. "He could be more helpful."

Taking a deep breath, I explain everything—well, not everything since he knows half of it anyway. I tell him that I've messed up royally and Elowen is indeed the fated mate, so I need to solve everything as soon as possible.

Zane listens patiently, his face unreadable until finally, he lets out a low whistle.

"Whoa, Alpha," he says, shaking his head. "That's one hell of a mess you got yourself into."

"Wow, I didn't know. Thanks for the insight, Zane," I mumble sarcastically.

"Alpha," he continues, unfazed. "I may not be the best with the ladies, but I know a thing or two about forgiveness. And trust me, it ain't easy, especially after something like that."

Then, to my surprise, a voice pipes up from behind me. "Did someone say something about females?" Viktar saunters into the clearing, a suggestive grin plastered on his face. "Because I, good sirs, am an expert on the fairer sex."

I roll my eyes, exasperated. The last thing I need right now is Viktar's self-proclaimed expertise on women. He was all charm and no substance, a reputation that precedes him.

"Can it, Viktar," I growl. "This isn't some barroom brawl where you can charm your way out of trouble."

He shrugs, but his grin drops slightly. "Alright, alright. Just saying, I might be able to offer some… unique perspectives."

"Don't listen to him, Alpha, what you need is sincerity," Zane cuts in. "That's the key. But females have their own way of knowing. A mumbled apology or a forced show of remorse won't do. They can sniff out insincerity a mile away."

Viktar lets out a scoff. "Please, sincerity? Overrated. Women get mad—you buy them something shiny, something expensive, and poof! All is forgiven."

I glare at him, the urge to throttle him rising again. "Yeah, Viktar, because clearly, all females are the same, easily swayed by baubles and trinkets."

His bravado falters under my withering gaze. He shrugs defensively. "Look, it's worked for me. Every time."

The truth, of course, is probably far less rosy. But Viktar's words spark a thought, a desperate attempt to grasp at any straw in sight. What could I give Elowen? A token of my apology, a symbol of something deeper?

I turn and start toward the council room. Of course, they all follow me.

In there, I turn to the ornately carved chest, the one holding the pack's most prized possessions. It houses jewelry passed down through generations, each piece imbued with history and significance.

My mother's emerald necklace, the sapphire ring that belonged to the first Luna, a collection of intricately carved jade pendants—items coveted by every woman in the pack.

Could that be the answer? Could a piece of our history bridge the gap I've created? The more I consider it, the more the idea gnaws at me.

It isn't just about the material value. These are symbols of leadership, of love, of the very essence of our pack.

But which piece? Each holds a different meaning, a different story. My mother's necklace, a symbol of strength and resilience, resonates with the way I want to appear to Elowen. But wouldn't it be a painful reminder of the pack that rejected her?

The sapphire ring passed down from Luna to Luna holds a different kind of power. It represents unity, loyalty, and the enduring bond between Alpha and Luna. Perfect, wouldn't it be? A symbol of the bond I so desperately want to rebuild.

Except, Elowen isn't Luna yet. Handing her the Luna's ring feels premature, a burden she may not be ready for. It may appear as pressure, a demand for something she clearly isn't prepared to give.

Every option seems flawed, riddled with potential landmines. Maybe Viktar isn't entirely wrong. Perhaps something tangible, something beautiful, could be a starting point, a way to show I value her.

Then, another idea strikes me—a compromise. I wouldn't present her with the Luna's ring—not yet. But maybe…

My hand reaches into the chest, pulling out a delicate silver chain. Attached to it is a small, pearlescent moonstone, its surface shimmering with an ethereal glow.

It isn't as grand as the other pieces, but it holds a quiet beauty, a gentle luminescence that reminds me of Elowen's own strength and grace.

This is the perfect starting point. It isn't the Luna's ring. It doesn't come with a burden of leadership.

But it is a piece of our history, a symbol of something precious and rare.

A symbol, perhaps, of the love I hope to rekindle between us.

"This should work."

Viktar nods enthusiastically. "Oh, this is one of the most precious stones in the pack. She will love it."

Zane and Rylan don't look as convinced, but they have no ideas, so they need to step aside.

Relief washes over me as the moonstone necklace nestles comfortably in my pocket. It's not a perfect solution, but it's a start, a tangible expression of the apology that chokes me.

Every second away from Elowen is agony, and the thought of presenting her with the necklace, a symbol of hope, fuels my anxious spirit.

Just as I rise to head towards her room, the door slams open with a bang. Elowen stands on the threshold, a tempest of fury and pain.

Shit. My heart skips a beat.

Her eyes, once pools of warmth, blaze with anger.

"What. The. Hell. Is. This?" She growls, each word punctuated by a sharp breath.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Every ounce of me yearns to wrap her in my arms, to explain, and beg for forgiveness.

But the words won't come. The shame of my actions chokes them back, leaving me a stuttering mess.

"Elowen," I manage, my voice hoarse.

Her gaze rakes across the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings and the men with me.

Behind her, some of my pack members stand outside, watching curiously.

"Where am I?" Her voice trembles with a mix of anger and fear. "Did you save me?"

I take a breath and nod. "Y-yes, you—"

"Why did you bring me here?" She cut in immediately.

"This is my pack," I rasp.

"Your pack?" She scoffs. "You have done everything wicked imaginable to me. Why won't you just let me go? Why did you bring me here? Are you mocking me, Thorne?" Tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"No! Never!" I lunge forward, desperate to erase the hurt from her face. But she flinches back, her hand shooting out.

"Don't touch me," she spits, her voice raw. "Don't pretend to care now. After everything you said? After you cast me aside like a used rag?" She throws her head back and laughs. "Or… is it true then? What they all say? I'm the fated mate?" She laughs again, and this time, her voice is a mere whisper that only I can hear her. "That's why I'm here, isn't it? After you rejected me. You think you can bring me here against my will?"

Shame burns in my gut, hotter than any physical wound. "I was… I was stupid," I stammer. It was the truth. I was a fool. "I wasn't sure."

"Sure?" Her voice rises bitterly. "Sure of what? If I was useful to you or not? Is that it, Thorne? Is that what mattered more than our bond?" She rolls her eyes. "What am I saying? We never had any bond."

Silence stretches, thick and suffocating. With trembling hands, I reach into my pocket and pull out the moonstone necklace. It feels insignificant, a pale offering in the face of the storm I've created.

"Elowen," I choke out, kneeling before her. The gesture is instinctive, a desperate plea for forgiveness. "Please. Let me explain."

She stares at me with pain in her bright eyes. I hold the necklace out to her, the moonstone catching the sliver of sunlight through the window. Its glow seems to mock my pathetic offering.

"This…" I falter, "It's a token. A symbol of…"

But the air whooshes out of me as Elowen snatches the necklace from my grasp. Her fury seems to reach a fever pitch.

"A symbol?!" she screams, flinging the necklace across the room. It lands with a clatter on the floor, the moonstone rolling away like a discarded dream, and I hear everyone around us gasp, shocked at her behavior toward their Alpha. "Don't you dare buy my forgiveness with trinkets, Thorne! You hurt me more deeply than words can express, and a stupid necklace won't erase that!"

Every fiber of my being screams at me to unleash the full force of my Alpha wrath. Elowen's act of defiance, flinging the necklace across the room with such disdain, threatens to shatter the fragile control I hold.

The air crackles with tension. My wolf snarls inside me, its primal rage yearning to break free.

But through the haze of anger, a sliver of understanding flickers. I see the pain etched on her face, the raw vulnerability. Her rage stems from the same hurt I feel, the hurt I inflicted.

Tears stream down her face, each one a searing indictment of my betrayal. My heart clenches in my chest, a fist squeezing with every ragged breath I take. The enormity of my mistake crashes upon me, leaving me breathless and reeling.

Elowen's face hardens with resolve. "I don't belong here," she states, her voice cold and clear. "Take me back to where I came from. Now."

The words slam into me, each one a shard of ice piercing my heart.

As Rylan and Zane step forward, I know the worst part of the punishment isn't her anger but the chilling indifference that replaced the warmth that once filled her eyes.

I've broken her trust, shattered our bond and the road to redemption stretches long and desolate before me.

I want to do everything to make her forgive me. I see a mate scorned and hurt.

The pack, however, sees only disrespect. Murmurs ripple through the gathered warriors, faces contorting into expressions of shock and censure.

Open glares are exchanged, their silent question hanging heavy in the air—why would their Alpha bring a woman like this to their pack, a woman who dares to defy him so blatantly?

Rylan and Zane, however, remain by my side, their gazes understanding.

Unlike the rest of the pack, they see beyond the outburst, recognizing the pain beneath the surface.

Elowen's cold voice shatters the tense silence. "I don't belong here," she repeats, her gaze sweeping across the room defiantly. "Take me back to where you found me. Now."

The words are like a punch to the gut. The thought of letting her leave, of letting her out of my sight, is unbearable. Yet, a part of me understands.

My pack, in their disapproval, confirms the doubts I'd buried deep—maybe she doesn't belong here after all. Maybe she's right.

But the wolf within me, ever fierce and possessive, refuses to back down. My mate. My fated partner. There's no way I can let her walk away without a fight.

Taking a deep breath, I push down my emotions, replacing them with steely resolve. "Elowen," I begin, "I'm sorry, but you can't leave."

The pack, sensing the shift in dynamic, falls silent once more, their gazes flitting between us.

Elowen's face hardens, her jaw clenching with determination. "And what makes you think you have the right to tell me what to do? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Because," I growl, letting loose a sliver of my Alpha power, "you're my mate, and this is your pack, too. But more importantly…" I pause, searching for the right words, "because you deserve better than the way I treated you. And I intend to prove that to you."

She laughs. "Mate? Alpha Thorne, did you hit your head or something?"

I narrow my eyes and growl at her, but she just lifts her brows. "I'm not your mate. Do not be delusional. I'm not your mate, and I'll never be. How dare you think you can keep me a prisoner just to use me for whatever powers I have?!"