17. THORNE

Chapter 17

THORNE

Frustration claws at me as Rylan grumbles under his breath. "Do we really have to go back to that dusty, cobweb-infested cave again, Thorne? And for what? Another cryptic prophecy delivered with a side of claw marks?"

I roll my eyes in exasperation. Rylan, my loyal beta, is many things—courageous, insightful, and a fierce warrior. But the prospect of visiting Mad Greta, the unsettling oracle who lives in near isolation, clearly isn't one of his strengths.

"Maybe I should have asked Zane to come along. He wouldn't complain this much."

Rylan scoffs. "Easy for you to say. Zane thrives on the weird and cryptic. Me, I prefer my advice straightforward, with minimal risk of being bitten."

A wry smile tugs at my lips. "There's always Tessa," I offer, knowing full well it's a losing battle. Tessa, my fiery omega, wouldn't hesitate to face Mad Greta, but her presence might complicate things.

This is a delicate matter, one best navigated with a touch of subtlety, something Tessa isn't known for.

Rylan shudders. "Oh gods, no. The last thing I need is Tessa peppering Mad Greta with questions about my nonexistent love life."

I chuckle, the sound strained against the weight of my worries. Elowen. The mere thought of her name sends a pang of longing through me.

It's been weeks since I brought her back to the pack, weeks filled with a cold distance that chills me to the bone.

My apology and the pitiful offering of the moonstone necklace were met with scorn. I understood her anger, but the icy indifference that replaced it is a whole new kind of torment.

"We need Greta's help, Rylan," I say. "There has to be a way to mend things with Elowen."

Rylan sighs. "Alright, alright. But if that bat-winged hermit tries to scratch my face again, I'm out of here."

The entrance to Greta's cave looms ahead, a gaping maw in the side of a rocky cliff. An unsettling aura clings to the place, a mix of damp earth, stale air, and something else —a faint, prickling energy that always sets my wolf on edge.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself. Whatever awaits us within those shadows, I have to face it. Elowen is worth the risk.

As we step inside, the familiar musty smell assaults my senses. The cave is dimly lit, sunlight filtering weakly through cracks in the ceiling, casting long, distorted shadows. In the center, huddled beneath a threadbare blanket, sits Greta.

Her appearance hasn't changed. Age-spotted skin stretches taut over her bony frame, and her eyes, milky white and devoid of pupils, seem to pierce through the gloom.

A faint smile, more like a predatory baring of teeth, twists her lips when she sees us.

"Well, well, well," she rasps, her voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "The Alpha returns. And with the little rat, I see."

Rylan stiffens and mumbles under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. I, however, ignore the pleasantries.

"Greta," I say, my voice firm. "I need your help."

Her smile widens, revealing a row of chipped and yellowed teeth. "Help, do you? And what, pray tell, would the great Alpha need help with?"

"My mate, my fated mate. I found her, Greta," I say. "Elowen. But, I… I messed up. Royally."

Silence descends, thick and suffocating. Greta's smile spreads.

"Love, always the great equalizer," she cackles, the sound echoing within the cave. "Even the mighty Alpha brought low by its power."

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to remain calm. "Is there anything I can do? Any way to fix what I've broken?"

Greta's milky eyes seem to bore into mine. "The path to forgiveness is never easy, young Alpha. It requires sacrifice, humility, and a willingness to face the consequences of your actions." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I have no way to help you—also, you must leave."

"But—"

"Leave!"

"Let's get out of here, Thorne."

I sigh and then turn to go.

"Wait."

I freeze and pivot back, not liking whatever game she's playing.

Relief washes over me as Greta reaches into the folds of her tattered cloak and pulls out a single, delicate flower. It's unlike anything I've ever seen, its petals shimmering with an ethereal glow that illuminates her wrinkled face.

"This," she rasps, "is a Mendshore Bloom. A rare flower with the power to mend broken bonds, especially those between mates."

Hope surges through me. "A way to fix things with Elowen?"

Greta's smile twitches in amusement. "Perhaps. But remember, Alpha, this flower is merely a catalyst. The true mending lies in your actions, in your sincerity, in your willingness to fight for what you've lost."

My grip tightens around the flower's stem, the delicate petals cool against my skin. "I understand. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Good," she croaks. "Now leave. The magic here grows weary, and so do I."

Rylan and I waste no time. We practically scramble out of the cave, the weight of the Mendshore Bloom heavy in my hand, not just from its physical presence but from the hope it represents.

The journey back to the pack is filled with nervous anticipation. Every rustle of leaves, every chirp of a bird, makes me jump. Can I truly win Elowen back? Can a simple flower bridge the chasm I've created between us?

As we approach the pack clearing, I see her. Elowen sits by the stream, her back stiff, her expression unreadable. My heart clenches in my chest.

This is it—the moment of truth.

Taking a deep breath, I walk towards her, Rylan lagging behind with a knowing look on his face.

As I get closer, I see the hurt etched on her face, a reflection of my own pain.

"Elowen," I say thickly. "Can we talk?"

She doesn't turn to face me. Her silence is a wall, a barrier I desperately need to break through.

"I know I messed up," I continue. "I lied, and I betrayed your trust. There's no excuse for what I did."

Silence stretches on, thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, Elowen turns her head, her gaze meeting mine. There's a flicker of something in her eyes, a flicker that might be anger or maybe… sorrow?

"There's nothing you can say." Her voice is flat. "The damage is done."

Taking a chance, I reach out and offer her the Mendshore Bloom. "This is for you," I say, my voice raw. "Greta, the oracle… she gave it to me. She said it could help mend what's broken."

Elowen hesitates, her eyes locked on the flower. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she reaches out and takes it from me. The moment our fingers brush, a jolt shoots through me, a spark of connection I haven't felt in weeks.

The mate bond is still alive—barely, though.

That means things can still work.

"Is this supposed to fix everything?" she snorts, her voice barely a whisper.

"No," I say, stepping closer. "This is just a start. But if you'll let me, I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you how much you mean to me. How sorry I am."

Elowen doesn't respond, but she doesn't pull away either. She stares at the flower in her hand, its ethereal glow illuminating the tear tracks on her cheeks.

When she stands abruptly and walks away, I let her go.

I have another plan to woo her tonight.

Anticipation crackles through me like a live wire. Flickering candlelight dances across the linen tablecloth, illuminating a feast fit for royalty. Roasted grouse, glazed with honey and berries, nestles beside a platter of succulent salmon.

Freshly baked bread and a selection of cheeses complete the spread, each morsel a testament to the care I've poured into this evening.

Rylan and Zane orchestrated the "invitation." Under the pretense of a pack meeting, they've escorted Elowen here.

It feels manipulative, but in my desperation to win her back, I grasp at any straw.

The sound of approaching footsteps sets my heart hammering against my ribs.

A breath catches in my throat as Elowen enters the room, her face a stoic mask. The fiery anger I'd grown accustomed to is absent, replaced by an unsettling indifference that chills me to the bone.

She surveys the scene with a detached gaze, her eyes lingering on the table for the briefest of seconds before settling on me. My stomach lurches. Is there… a flash of hurt in her eyes? Or am I just searching for forgiveness that isn't there?

Without a word, she walks towards the table and pulls out a chair. Silence stretches between us. With trembling hands, I pour her a goblet of wine.

"This looks… lovely," she finally says.

Was that a compliment? It feels like a foreign word after weeks of her icy silence.

Dinner drags on in agonizing silence. Elowen eats with polite detachment—each bite a small victory in my eyes. She hasn't left. Maybe, just maybe, this is a step in the right direction.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, I clear my throat. "Elowen, I…"

She sets her fork down, her gaze locking with mine. For a moment, I see emotion in her eyes, but I can't identify it.

To my dismay, she releases a mirthless laugh.

"You what, Thorne?" she asks bitterly. "You want to apologize again? Tell me how sorry you are?"

Shame burns in my throat. "Yes. I messed up. I betrayed your trust, and I…"

Her laughter cuts me off. "And you thought a fancy dinner would fix everything?" she scoffs. "You thought that a plate of food could erase the pain? You have a very inflated view of your own power, Alpha."

The words slam into me, each one a shard of ice piercing my heart. The flicker of hope I'd clung to was extinguished, replaced by a suffocating despair.

"I… I don't…" What do I say? Everything I am trying is wrong. "I just want things to be like they were before. I want you back."

"Want me back? Do you even remember what 'before' looked like, Thorne? Before you took my heart and stomped on it?"

Tears well up in her eyes, but she blinks them back, her jaw clenching with suppressed emotion. "No," she continues, her voice trembling slightly. "You can't just rewind time and expect everything to be okay. The damage is done, and I… I don't think I can forgive you."

The admission hangs in the air. Forgiveness, the one thing I craved more than anything, is out of reach. The enormity of my mistake crashes upon me, leaving me breathless and reeling.

"But… but the Mendshore Bloom—Greta said it could help…" I realize how pathetic I sound.

"A magic flower? That's your solution? Forgiveness isn't about a quick fix, Thorne. It's about trust, about rebuilding what was broken. And right now," she pauses, "there's nothing left to rebuild."

Tears stream down her face now, unchecked and raw. Her pain mirrors my own, but she has strength. I can see that in her. She hurts, but she can move past me if she has to. I can't move past her, though. I don't want to.

As she pushes back her chair and turns to leave, my world crumbles. I reach out, a silent plea for her to stay.

"If I had the chance to do it all over again," she says hoarsely, "I wouldn't choose you as well."

It's a gut punch. A blow to the fragile hope I'd clung to. The belief that the Mendshore Bloom could somehow bridge the chasm I'd created shatters into a million pieces.

Despair threatens to consume me, but the primal instinct of the alpha wolf within sparks a flicker of defiance.

"Elowen," I begin, my voice hoarse, "look at me."

She hesitates, her gaze reluctantly meeting mine. The storm of emotions there tears at my soul.

"What do you want?" The question is raw.

A tear escapes the corner of her eye as she whispers. "I want to leave."