CHAPTER 3: A REMINDER

ELIZABETH'S POV

The kitchen smelled like rosemary and roasted chicken. My mother moved quickly from counter to stove, her hair pinned in its usual neat bun, not a strand out of place. 

I stood by the sink, chopping vegetables like she asked, but my mind wasn’t on the knife or the carrots in front of me. It was on the way Phillip’s eyes had kept finding me in the stands after the game. 

It was on the strange, restless energy in my chest every time I thought of him.

“Keep them even, Elizabeth,” Mother reminded me without looking at me. “Presentation matters when we serve at a pack meeting. It reflects the family.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said, though my slices were uneven no matter how hard I tried.

The house buzzed louder than usual. A meeting tonight meant our Alpha and many others would gather in the hall, and our home, being one of the closest, always turned into a staging ground. I didn’t mind most nights. But tonight, I hated the way my mother’s voice carried, the way she spoke to the other women helping set up in the dining room.

“…she’s nearly of age,” I heard her say, though I wasn’t supposed to be listening. “The bond could snap into place any day now. Anthony would be a suitable choice. Strong bloodline. His father has always been loyal to the pack.”

The knife in my hand hit the cutting board harder than I meant. My throat burned. They were talking about me. Again.

Anthony. I barely tolerated him. He was polite, yes, but his smile never reached his eyes. He was chosen because he was safe. Because his family was safe. Because my mother liked safety.

“She doesn’t need to be safe,” I muttered under my breath, almost to my wolf.

“What was that?” Mother’s voice came sharp from behind.

“Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Elizabeth, you should be proud. A strong match ensures security, prosperity. Not everyone is blessed with choices.”

“I don’t want Anthony,” I snapped before I could swallow it down. “I don’t want anyone to decide for me.”

The room stilled. One of the women in the dining room looked away quickly, pretending to be busy with the tablecloth. My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“You will not raise your voice at me in this house,” she said quietly, which was worse than yelling. “You are a young woman of this pack, and your duty is clear. Bonds are not about what you want, Elizabeth. They are about what we need.”

My hands trembled on the knife. I wanted to scream, to tell her the mate bond wasn’t some neat arrangement she could plan out at a table. That it burned through your skin, pulled at your soul, and made breathing hard when he wasn’t near. That it wasn’t Anthony who made my chest tighten every time I looked at him.

But I didn’t. I pressed my lips together, dropped the knife on the counter, and walked out before she could stop me.

The porch was quiet compared to the noise inside. Cool night air wrapped around me, and I pulled it into my lungs like I’d been drowning. I sat on the step, hugging my knees, staring out at the line of trees that circled our pack lands.

The bond pulled at me again. It was strange, raw, and too strong for me to resist. My wolf stirred under my skin, pacing, restless. He’s close, she whispered, and my heart stumbled.

The crunch of gravel broke the silence. I looked up, and my pulse leapt.

Phillip was there. Standing near Reagan by the driveway, both of them laughing about something, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. The porch light caught his face, and I swear it made everything inside me tilt. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near me.

“Good game, man,” Reagan said, clapping Phillip on the shoulder. “Killer save at the end. I thought we were done for.”

Phillip smiled, small and quiet, but his eyes flicked toward me before returning to my brother. My stomach flipped. He’d noticed me. Again.

“I should go inside,” Reagan said after a minute, pulling out his phone. “Mom wants me to check the setup for tomorrow.” He rolled his eyes. “She’ll go crazy if it’s not perfect.”

“Go on,” Phillip said.

Reagan jogged up the porch, throwing me a distracted grin before disappearing into the house. And just like that, it was me and Phillip. Alone.

The silence stretched. I could hear my heartbeat. I could feel the way the air seemed to shift between us, thick and charged, like something invisible pressed us closer even while he stood ten feet away.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Phillip said finally, his voice low, rough.

“Why not?” I asked, sharper than I meant.

His eyes flicked to the door, then back to me. “Because your mother’s inside. Because your brother would kill me.”

I swallowed hard. My wolf pushed against me, urging me forward. The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

The second the sentence left my mouth, my face burned hot. Why had I said that? Why had I just thrown it at him like a challenge?

Phillip froze. His jaw tightened, and his hands flexed at his sides. His eyes found mine and held them, dark and unreadable, but I saw the flicker there. The same pull I felt, mirrored in him.

“Elizabeth,” he said my name like it hurt him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do.” My voice shook, but I held his gaze. “You keep looking at me like I’m something you shouldn’t want. And I keep feeling…” I cut myself off before I went too far.

His breath came heavier, his chest rising and falling in a way that made me wonder if he was fighting himself as much as I was.

“This can’t happen,” he said finally, each word clipped. “Not now. Not ever.”

But even as he said it, his eyes dropped for just a second to my mouth, to my hands gripping the porch rail, back to my face. My wolf howled inside me, triumphant.

He wanted me.

“I should go,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away and stepping back.

The distance felt like a slap. My chest ached with it.

“Phillip,” I whispered, though I didn’t know what I was asking him for.

He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Stay inside. Don’t make this harder than it already is.” Then he walked toward his car, the gravel crunching under his shoes.

I stayed frozen on the porch, my nails biting into my palms, my wolf pressing against me like fire under my skin. Every part of me wanted to run after him, to grab his arm and force him to admit what we both already knew. But I didn’t move. I sat there, shaking, watching the taillights fade down the road.

The house buzzed behind me with laughter and voices, but I couldn’t hear any of it. All I heard was the echo of his voice, low and rough, saying my name like it meant something.

And I knew. No matter what my mother planned, no matter how many times she said Anthony’s name, no matter how many warnings Phillip threw at me, this was already out of our hands.

The bond wasn’t going away.

And neither was he.