Rylan's POV
The nightmare resurfaced before I even realized I had dozed off.
It always began the same way: moonlight streaming over the old Silverfang courtyard, which no longer existed. Wolves encircled. Distant shouts echoed. And Selena's voice, soft, warm, and familiar, called my name.
"Rylan."
In the dream, I always turned toward her, convinced she was my anchor. My sanctuary.
In reality, she had been the catalyst that burned everything down.
The scene shifted, as nightmares do, too quickly, too sharply. The courtyard was abruptly filled with smoke. Rogues flooded the walls, slipping in through the concealed tunnel that only Selena knew about.
I remembered that moment vividly—how my heart tightened, how my wolf struggled to break free, sensing betrayal before my mind caught up.
Selena's figure emerged through the smoke.
Unafraid.
Not fleeing.
Waiting.
I reached for her in the dream, just as I had done in the past. "Selena, get back inside! It isn't safe!"
She smiled.
Not lovingly, no.
With triumph.
With something chilling.
"Rylan… this is what you drove me to," she said. "You ignored me. You made me feel unwanted. Now you'll understand."
My stomach twisted with the same dread I'd felt years ago.
The rogues charged. The pack roared in defense. And Selena merely stepped aside, allowing the intruders to enter.
Trust.
Shattered.
My wolf howled in agony.
I lunged for her
but the dream yanked me backward, pulling me through fire, smoke, and despair.
"Rylan."
Her voice echoed again, but this time it wasn't Selena.
It was Ella's.
Light pierced the memory, shattering the nightmare. A warm hand landed on my shoulder.
My eyes flew open.
Ella's POV
He appeared different while he slept.
Not cold. Not unapproachable.
Humans.
His breath came rapidly, uneven as if he were battling something invisible. I had only intended to place the stack of newly delivered documents on his desk, not wake him. But when he jolted in the chair, murmuring something pained and harsh, instinct drew me closer.
"Rylan," I said softly.
His eyes opened wide, golden, sharp, and wild.
For a brief moment, he didn't recognize me. His hand gripped the armrest as if expecting an attack.
"It's just me," I whispered.
Gradually, so gradually, his expression softened. The tension in his shoulders eased, but the storm in his eyes remained.
"You were having a nightmare," I said.
He looked away. "I don't have nightmares."
"Yes, you do," I replied gently. "And that's okay."
He flinched, barely perceptibly, but I noticed it. He didn't like being seen. Not like this.
Not vulnerable.
I stepped back, giving him space. "I didn't mean to intrude. I can leave…"
"No."
The word escaped him too quickly, too harshly.
He cleared his throat. "Stay."
I hesitated, then nodded.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "What did you hear?"
"Nothing clear," I answered honestly. "Just… pain."
He tensed again.
I moved to the window rather than press him. "The pack is still murmuring about Selena. I don't know what happened, but I can tell it wasn't something minor."
Silence enveloped us.
A long, heavy silence.
Then…
"She betrayed me."
The confession was soft… but it sliced through the room like a knife.
I turned to face him.
Rylan Wolfe, the Alpha King, looked drained. Not weak. Not vanquished. Just… in pain.
"She permitted the rogues into my domain. To the very heart of the pack." His voice was void. "Lives were lost because I trusted her."
My heart ached. "Rylan…"
"I do not seek your pity." He abruptly stood, restless and unable to be still. "Or your understanding."
"I didn't extend either," I replied softly.
He came to a halt.
"Everyone bears their history," I continued. "Yours is clearly… laden with suffering. But that doesn't diminish your resilience."
His jaw clenched. A swirl of emotions danced in his eyes—rage, bewilderment, defiance.
"Ella," he stated, his voice rough, "you should be cautious of me. I'm not—"
"I'm not scared."
The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.
A long sigh escaped him, one that had been stored inside for far too long.
"Go get some rest," he eventually said, turning away. His tone attempted to sound commanding, but it now held a crack. A small one. A sincere one.
I nodded and made my way toward the door.
Just before I left, I glanced back one last time.
Rylan was standing with his hand pressed against the wall, shoulders slumped, as though the shadows of his past were clinging to him.
I wished to reach out. To offer some solace, understanding, anything.
But not yet.
We weren't prepared.
As the door clicked shut behind me, I leaned against it for a moment.
Rylan Wolfe…
He was a storm.
A hurt ruler.
A man carrying too much isolation.
And I wasn't certain if I was meant to heal him…
…or be shattered by the burden of his grief.