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JACE

J ace wasn’t used to regret.

Regret was for men who acted without thinking, wolves who lost control. Alphas weren’t afforded the luxury. They acted. Led. Endured.

But this morning? Regret was a dull ache under his ribs, a weight pressing at the base of his throat.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Not like that.

She’d left his office with fire in her voice and pain in her eyes, and he’d let her go.

Stood there like a damn coward while she told him everything he already knew—he was pushing her away.

Hurting her. And for what? So he could pretend he was still in control of this thing—this bond that tugged at him every time she laughed, every time she walked into a room and made the walls feel warmer.

He ran a hand through his dark, almost black hair and paced his office, boots thudding dully against the old pine floors. The morning sun filtered through the tall windows in soft gold sheets, but it didn’t warm the place. It couldn’t reach him today.

“Just apologize,” he muttered to himself, dragging a palm down his jaw. “Tell her she’s right. That you’re scared. That she matters.”

But his chest clenched at the thought.

Because once he said it—once he opened that door—there would be no closing it again. No pretending the mate bond didn’t exist. No denying that his world, his pack, his future had changed the second Lyra Ravenshade walked into Moonfang Keep in that ridiculous sweater and asked if he wanted a muffin.

He exhaled sharply and turned toward the door, only to freeze at the sound of voices just beyond it.

Reception.

“—phone call for you,” Delia said, her tone bland in that way she used when she wanted someone to know she was judging them but also wouldn’t be caught dead saying it aloud.

Lyra answered, voice muffled but unmistakable. “Hello?”

Jace didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

Truly.

But the second he heard his voice, smooth, polished, wrong —every hair on Jace’s body stood on end.

“Miss Ravenshade,” Ezra drawled, “hope I’m not disturbing your morning.”

Jace’s hands curled into fists.

Lyra didn’t sound pleased. “This line’s for Keep business.”

“I like to think of this as… diplomatic outreach. Celestial Pines is small, and I’d hate to let politics get in the way of good company.”

Jace moved closer to the door, silent as a shadow.

“I’m flattered,” Lyra said, tone polite but cool. “But I have a lot to catch up on after yesterday.”

“You work too hard. That’s Alpha Montgomery’s influence, no doubt.”

“Well, he runs a tight ship.”

A soft, charismatic laugh that made Jace want to rip Ezra’s throat out came over the phone.

“I’m sure. Well, seeing as you’re so busy, would you like to have dinner tonight and continue our conversation?”

“Tonight I’ve already got plans,” she added, cutting him off gently. “I’m spending the evening with my cousin. We’ve had it scheduled.”

A pause.

Then Ezra’s voice again, quieter, tinged with something oily. “Another time, then. I do hope you are enjoying the flowers I sent you as well.”

Flowers? Jace snarled to himself.

“I appreciate them. I do have to go though. Have a good day.”

Click.

Jace exhaled, slow and controlled.

The red haze in his mind had started to lift the second she’d declined. But not by much.

Because Ezra knew her number. Because Ezra knew she worked here. And because Ezra was circling, closer and bolder, like a wolf who’d scented blood and was waiting for the right moment to strike.

Jace stepped away from the door, chest tight. His wolf was clawing beneath the surface, pacing restlessly.

Lyra had handled it with grace. She hadn’t flirted. She hadn’t accepted. But she hadn’t told Jace about the flowers. She hadn’t told him Ezra had been sniffing around.

Because she didn’t trust him. Because he hadn’t earned it.

He turned sharply toward the far corner of the office where a small brass bell sat on a ledge—a direct-call enchantment to his beta, Logan.

He struck it once. A soft chime rang through the room, and moments later, the door creaked open.

Logan stepped inside, one brow already raised. “You rang?”

“I want eyes on Ezra,” Jace said. “Discreet. Round-the-clock. He’s working something, and I want to know what.”

Logan frowned. “You think he’s breaking Pact?”

“No,” Jace said tightly. “Not yet. But he’s testing the edges. I can feel it.”

“Council’s already keeping tabs.”

“They’re not keeping them close enough.”

Logan nodded slowly, then studied Jace a beat longer. “This about the call Lyra just took?”

Jace’s eyes flicked toward him.

Logan shrugged. “Delia might’ve… mumbled something on her way past the breakroom.”

Jace didn’t reply.

“Look, Alpha,” Logan said gently, “you don’t have to be psychic to see it. You’re twisted up over her. It’s obvious. Even to the cubs.”

“This isn’t about her .”

“Sure,” Logan said dryly. “You want me to also start tailing anyone who looks at her sideways, or just Ezra for now?”

Jace didn’t rise to the bait.

Logan sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s strong, Jace. And smart. And yeah, probably not the ‘safe’ choice. But when has anything worth it ever been easy for you?”

Jace didn’t answer.

Logan waited. Then, with a slight nod, turned to go.

“I’ll keep eyes on him.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Jace sank into the chair behind his desk and stared out the window, hands still clenched. The fog from earlier was burning off now, sunlight breaking through like some damn metaphor he didn’t want.

Lyra had made her choice for tonight.

Not Ezra.

Not him, either.

And maybe that was the problem.

He wasn’t giving her a reason to.