It had been a week. Seven days, and she still hadn't woken up. I had faced wars that lasted longer than this, battles that demanded more from me, decisions that reshaped entire territories. None of them felt like this.
I stood by the window, watching a world that refused to pause. In my world, nothing ever waited—not for pain, not for uncertainty, and certainly not for someone who lay unmoving on my bed. Behind me, she was still exactly where I had left her. I hadn't allowed anyone to move her. Something about her presence in my space made the room feel less empty, yet at the same time, the silence around her made everything louder.
Responsibility did not stop because she did. It never had. I controlled more than just a pack. Werewolves, Guardians, and other creatures that existed in the shadows all fell under my authority. Some followed willingly, others because they had no choice. Balance was never given—it was taken, built, enforced. Years ago, everything had been chaos. Packs turned against each other, corruption spread, and creatures broke the laws that once held everything together. Behind it all was a prophecy I didn't believe in—until I began to see its effects.
So I acted. Not carefully, not gently, but decisively. Wars were fought, territories fell, leaders surrendered. The corrupted were either brought under my rule or erased completely. It wasn't clean, and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. That was how I became what they now called Alpha. What they now called Sovereign.
Power had never been something I struggled with. Control had never slipped from my grasp. Until now.
Because no matter what I had built, nothing prepared me for the kind of silence she brought with her.
I turned slightly, my gaze falling on her again. Still. Unmoving. Too quiet. My wolf stirred within me—Rynn. He hadn't been himself either. Before this, he had been loud, restless, always speaking, always pushing. The moment he saw her at the river, everything changed. I still remember it clearly—the way the wind shifted, the way she stepped closer, and the way Rynn reacted instantly.
Mine.
There had been no hesitation, no doubt. He had recognized her immediately as our mate. I ignored him at first. Things like that were never simple, and nothing about her felt simple. But Rynn didn't care. He never does. A talker, a thief, always trying to take what he wants without thinking of the consequences. He had pushed me to claim her immediately, to bind her before anything else could reach her.
I didn't.
Because I knew there was more to her than even he could sense.
Now he was silent.
The second day she didn't wake, he stopped speaking. No arguments, no comments, no presence pushing against mine. Just distance. A quiet sadness I had never felt from him before.
I walked back toward the bed slowly and reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against her hand. Instantly, I felt him react—not with his usual force, but with something heavier. Sadness. Deep and unfamiliar.
"She's still here," I muttered under my breath.
No response.
I clenched my jaw slightly. "You wanted her. Now she's here."
Still nothing.
For the first time, I didn't know what to say to my own wolf. This wasn't something I could control or fight. I sat at the edge of the bed, watching her carefully.
"You've caused more disruption in a week than most wars I've fought," I said quietly.
She didn't move. Of course she didn't. But I stayed anyway. Because leaving no longer felt like an option. Not when everything in me—even the part I couldn't control—was waiting for her to wake up.
And break this silence.