CHAPTER 3 The Second Gravity

The forest felt different in daylight.

Lena stepped out onto the wide wooden porch, sunlight warming her face, pine and earth filling her lungs so sharply it almost tasted sweet. Every sound seemed layered now — birds in distant trees, wind combing through branches, footsteps inside the house behind her.

She wasn’t alone for two seconds.

“You’re not supposed to wander off yet.”

The voice came from her right — smooth, edged with amusement.

She turned.

If Kael felt like steady heat, this man felt like lightning waiting to strike.

He leaned against one of the porch posts, arms crossed, dark hair pulled back loosely at his neck. His eyes were lighter than Kael’s — amber with flecks of green — and far less guarded.

“Let me guess,” she said. “Also a werewolf. Also weirdly intense.”

His grin was quick and sharp. “Ronan. Second-in-command. And I prefer ‘charmingly intense.’”

She huffed a small laugh before she could stop herself. “Lena. Newly traumatized.”

“Yeah,” he said, gaze flicking over her face in a way that was assessing but not unkind. “You look better than most after their first shift.”

Her stomach dropped. “I shifted?”

“Fully,” he said. “You don’t remember?”

She shook her head slowly.

His expression softened — just a touch. “That’s normal. Brain protects itself.”

She leaned on the railing beside him, watching the trees sway. Being near him didn’t feel like the deep, soul-level pull she felt with Kael…

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was easier. Lighter. Like talking to someone who didn’t carry the weight of a crown.

“So,” she said, “how bad is this whole ‘mate bond’ thing everyone keeps dancing around?”

Ronan went still for half a second.

Then he shrugged one shoulder. “Depends who you ask.”

“Okay, I’m asking you.”

His jaw worked slightly before he answered. “It’s… strong. Hard to ignore. Makes emotions louder. Possessiveness, too, if someone lets it get that far.”

“Sounds healthy,” she muttered.

That got a real laugh out of him. “We’re giant territorial wolves, Lena. Healthy is relative.”

She smiled despite herself.

“You don’t seem thrilled about it,” she said.

His gaze slid toward the trees instead of her. “I’m thrilled you’re alive.”

That landed differently.

She studied him. “But?”

“But bonds change pack dynamics,” he said carefully. “Power shifts. Loyalties get complicated.”

Something about the way he said it felt personal.

Before she could ask, the front door opened behind them.

The air changed instantly.

Not temperature.

Pressure.

Kael stepped out onto the porch, eyes going straight to Lena — then to Ronan beside her. His posture didn’t stiffen, not exactly.

But something in him sharpened.

“You should be resting,” Kael said gently.

“I was going stir-crazy,” Lena replied. “Ronan was just telling me I apparently turned into Cujo last night.”

Kael’s mouth twitched. Ronan smirked.

But the space between the two men held an invisible current.

“I was keeping her company,” Ronan said, tone casual. Too casual.

“I can see that,” Kael replied.

Lena blinked between them. “Okay, what is that? That thing you’re both doing with your faces?”

“Nothing,” they said at the same time.

She pointed at them. “That. That is a lie.”

Ronan pushed off the railing. “I’ve got perimeter checks. Try not to run into the woods without backup, yeah?”

His eyes met hers briefly — warm, lingering — before he headed down the steps.

She watched him go, a strange tug in her chest she didn’t fully understand.

Kael noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“Ronan’s loyal,” Kael said quietly. “But he questions everything. Especially fate.”

“And you don’t?”

His gaze returned to her, intensity back but softer now. “I question whether you’re ready. Whether this is fair to you.”

The difference hit her then.

Ronan made her feel normal in the middle of insanity.

Kael made the world feel quieter just by standing near her.

Both pulls were real.

Very different.

Equally dangerous.

And somewhere deep inside, her wolf lifted its head — aware that her heart was starting to stand in the middle of a line that would not stay unbroken for long.