Page 12

12

LANDON

I t took him most of class and half a peanut butter sandwich to work up the nerve.

The moment class ended, and Sonya stood to leave, Landon cut around the row of desks like a man on a mission.

His palms were sweating.

His tongue felt like sandpaper.

She turned just as he got close, brushing a strand of her pale hair behind one ear, her expression unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, voice just a notch steadier than he felt.

“Hey,” she echoed.

Landon scratched his arm.

“So, uh... I was wondering. Would you maybe want to come by the cabin sometime? My place. I’ve been working on the porch, fixed up the firepit. It’s nothing fancy, but I thought?—”

She tilted her head slightly, a familiar guard slipping behind those glacial eyes.

“It’s not a date,” he blurted, too fast. Then winced.

“I mean—unless you wanted it to be? But also, like—just a visit is cool. Totally cool.”

Sonya stared at him for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Then she gave the smallest of smiles.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

Landon released a breath like he’d been holding it since the semester started.

“Cool. Yeah. I’ll text you the directions. It’s a bit off the main road, but the trees are kind of the best part.”

“I figured,” she said, and he thought maybe, her smile grew just a little.

By the time she showed up, dusk had draped itself across the hills like a wool blanket.

Sonya pulled her Jeep into the graveled edge of his clearing, headlights brushing the edge of the woods.

She climbed out in boots and a fleece jacket, her white-blond hair pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder.

Landon met her by the porch, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Welcome to my kingdom,” he said, gesturing grandly.

“No plumbing upgrades, but I did install a new screen door that doesn’t slam every time the wind breathes.”

She gave him a sideways look.

“Royalty and craftsmanship. Impressive.”

He led her inside, the creak of wood under their boots familiar and warm.

The space was small—one bedroom, one main room—but it smelled like cedar and coffee and something wild and clean.

Sonya wandered slowly, fingers trailing over the worn bookshelves, the framed photo of him and who she assumed was his aunt near the mantle, the shelves of mismatched mugs.

“You did all this?” she asked.

“Mostly,” he said. “Some of it came with the place. But I fixed the roof, added insulation, put in a new stove. Still can’t keep the fridge from rattling like a demon, but I’m calling that a character quirk.”

She smiled softly.

“It feels like you.”

Landon’s throat tightened.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

By the time they stepped outside again, the last of the daylight had gone.

The stars were scattered across the sky like someone had spilled glitter on black velvet, and the air had taken on a crisp bite that hinted at coming frost.

Landon built the fire in practiced silence—twigs, bark, a few good pieces of pine—then struck the match.

The flames caught fast, throwing golden light across the clearing.

He dragged over a couple of old lawn chairs and handed Sonya a blanket he’d grabbed from the porch.

She settled beside him, her body a careful few inches away, but close enough that he could feel the heat from her skin more than the fire.

They sat for a while like that, watching the flames dance.

He didn’t know when he started talking.

“I used to think this place was a curse,” he said, voice low.

“Too quiet. Too far. Like I’d been exiled or something.”

Sonya didn’t speak.

She just listened. She always listened.

“But then... I don’t know. Something about it feels right now. Like maybe I needed the silence. To hear stuff that’s been buried for a while.”

Sonya’s gaze flicked to him.

“Like what?”

He shifted in his seat, eyes still on the fire.

“I had this conversation with my aunt. About our family. About wolves.”

Sonya didn’t move.

“She thinks there’s something in my blood. Some kind of legacy or ancient tie. I always thought she was just into stories, you know? Wiccan vibes, forest energy, all that. But lately...” He exhaled.

“I don’t know. Something is different.”

Still no reply.

“But even more than that... I keep thinking about you.”

Finally, Sonya looked at him.

Her expression unreadable.

“I know we haven’t known each other long,” Landon continued, words tumbling out now.

“But there’s something about you that just fits in my world. Not because it’s perfect or easy—God knows I’ve had enough weird dreams and hallucinations to last a lifetime—but because you feel real. In a way nothing else does.”

Her lips parted slightly, but he wasn’t finished.

“I keep wondering what it would feel like to kiss you. Not because I’m trying to be smooth, or because I’m trying to push something... but because every time I’m near you, I forget to be afraid. I’m not saying I’m a wimp, I just… I’ve been alone a lot of my life, not had close relationships that lasted very long. Just liked to be on my own better. But with you–”

The fire crackled.

The wind shifted through the trees.

And Sonya looked at him like she wanted to say a thousand things—but none of them would make it out.

He leaned in slowly, just enough that she’d know it wasn’t a trap.

Not a game.

Her breath was shaky.

Her eyes searched his face.

Her hand trembled just slightly where it clutched the edge of the blanket.

Then she touched his face—lightly, reverently—fingers tracing his jaw like she was memorizing it.

Her forehead pressed to his.

But she didn’t kiss him.

And neither did he.

They just sat there—silent, close, fragile in the space between too much and not enough.

After a moment, Sonya pulled back.

“I should go soon,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.”

He nodded, even though every part of him screamed to stop her.

As she stood, folding the blanket over the back of the chair, she paused at the door.

“I’m not what you think I am,” she said, so soft he almost missed it.

Landon’s heart thudded.

“That’s okay.”

She looked at him for one long beat, her eyes shimmering with something almost vulnerable.

Then she was gone.

And Landon sat by the fire, wondering if he'd just seen the truth flicker in her eyes... or if it was only the light.

Chapter 13 Sonya

Sonya sat in the corner of her room long after dawn broke, back against the window frame, legs pulled tight to her chest, and thoughts looping like a wolf pacing its cage.

The embers of the fire at Landon’s cabin still lived in her bones—warm, dangerous, real. He hadn’t kissed her, but gods, he’d come close. Close enough to ruin her with kindness. Close enough to make her want everything she wasn’t supposed to.

She could still hear his voice.

“I forget to be afraid when I’m near you.”

That was the kind of thing a man said when he meant it.

And that was the kind of thing a woman like her wasn’t allowed to want.

Sonya didn’t sleep that night.

She sat curled in the corner of her bedroom long after the moon dipped behind the trees, a dozen old texts scattered across her floor like spilled secrets. Her eyes were bloodshot from hours of reading, her hands ink-smudged from tracing the same lines over and over.

At first, it had been about Landon.

The way his eyes flared in firelight. The whisper he’d described in the woods. His family name.

But now?

Now it was about the truth.

Because something was waking up—and Landon was at the center of it.

She leaned closer to the weathered page she’d just translated from an archaic dialect of Old Lycan, the symbols dense but familiar. Words that chilled her to her core

"When the line of Grevaris is called by the fire, the Veil will thin. The alpha born of moonblood and exile will rise. Not by bloodlust, but by balance. Not through conquest, but through choice."

She stared at the name again— Grevaris. The original bloodline. The lost house. Lycan royalty before the packs had divided. The line that was rumored to carry not just strength—but the power to bend fire, earth, and will.

It sounded like legend. Like something told at midnight over wine and warnings.

But Landon’s last name?

Graves.

Which—through the oldest phonetic morphing she could find—traced directly back to Grevaris .

She had confirmed it through five separate cross-references, all buried in scrolls the Elders never spoke of aloud. All the material she wasn’t supposed to read. And it all said the same thing

He wasn’t just some kid with strange dreams and soft eyes.

He was the key.

Which is why, when Roman knocked the next morning—loud, sharp, and impatient—Sonya was ready.

She opened the door slowly, sleep-deprived and furious. Roman stormed in like he owned the place, his boots muddy and his temper already flaring.

“You’re pulling away,” he snapped, skipping pretense entirely. “From the mission. From me.”

“No,” she said tightly, “I’m finishing the mission.”

Roman frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You sent me to see if Landon was from the line of prophecy,” she said, voice rising. “Remember? You ordered me to figure out if he was tied to Grevaris. You’re the one who told me the prophecy was real. You called it the key to consolidating power!”

He waved her off. “That was theoretical.”

“No, Roman.” She grabbed the folder from her desk and shoved it hard into his chest. “This is proof. ”

She flipped it open for him—pages marked and underlined, with lineage tables, phonetic histories, ancient texts all pointing to the same conclusion.

“You wanted me to find out if he was connected to the prophecy. And guess what? He is. It’s him. ”

Roman’s mouth tightened, his eyes flicking over the documents—but he didn’t even read.

Instead, he threw the folder aside.

“Convenient,” he muttered. “Right when you start feeling something for him, you ‘discover’ this perfect little narrative.”

Sonya’s voice broke like glass. “Are you serious? This is what you wanted! You sent me to verify the prophecy, and I did!”

Roman stepped forward. “No. You got in too deep. You blurred the lines.”

“I followed your orders!”

“And now you’re protecting him.”

She shoved her finger into his chest. “Because he’s not a stray, Roman. He’s not some threat to eliminate. He’s the fulfillment of everything you claimed to believe. The one who can bridge the Veil. The one who can bring balance back to the packs.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed to slits. “And if that’s true... then he’s more dangerous than I thought.”

Sonya stared at him, disgust burning through her. “You want to kill him because he matters now? Because he’s not disposable anymore?”

Roman didn’t respond.

And that silence—that admission —hit harder than any words ever could.

“You can’t just eliminate him,” she said, stepping back. “Not anymore. You’ll fracture the pack. The prophecy is too old. Too sacred. If word gets out that he’s one of them?—”

“He’s not ours, ” Roman growled. “He’s untrained. Undisciplined. He doesn’t belong in our world.”

Sonya’s jaw trembled. “He belongs more than you do. ”

Roman laughed, cold and sharp. “You think I’m going to let you hand the future over to some outsider just because your heart’s gone soft?”

“My heart’s never been the problem,” she spat. “It’s your ego that can’t handle not being the chosen one.”

Roman went still.

Then stepped toward her, voice low and venom-laced. “You forget who you’re speaking to.”

“No,” she said. “I’m finally remembering. ”

His stare lingered for a beat too long—dangerous and dark—before he turned and left without another word.

When the door slammed behind him, Sonya sank to the floor, breath ragged.

She was done being his weapon. His experiment.

She had followed his orders.

And now? Now she would finish them her way.

Because the prophecy wasn’t a myth.

And Landon Graves—Landon Grevaris —wasn’t just a name in a story.

He was real.

And she would protect him.

Even if it meant turning her back on everything else.