Chapter 11

Okay.”

The word left my mouth—empty, sharp.

But I didn’t mean it.

I would never reject the bond. Not now. Not ever.

As the silence stretched, something hit my senses—a faint scent.

Warm. Familiar. Ayla.

My eyes narrowed. Am I imagining things? The scent grew stronger, unmistakable.

I mind-linked the nearest guard. Check outside the door. Now.

He returned moments later, bowing slightly as he whispered in my ear.

“I saw the retreating figure of Lady Ayla and a maid.”

Every nerve in my body went on high alert.

She was here? She heard me?

A storm churned in my chest.

Was she coming to see me? Did she think I meant it? That I would actually reject her?

Questions flooded my mind—none with answers.

I stood up so abruptly the chairs scraped back. All eyes turned to me.

“We’ll continue this discussion later,” I said, my voice cold, masking the panic clawing at my gut.

I didn’t wait for their reply. I turned and strode out, my Beta and guards quickly falling into step behind me.

As I stepped out of the conference room, my eyes scanned the hallway, searching—hoping.

Ayla.

Her scent was fading, but the trail was still warm. I followed it, heart pounding, until it led me to the garden—the very place we met the day the day returned to the pack.

And there she was.

Standing amidst the white roses, her figure framed in the soft sunlight.

 Her dress fluttered gently, her dark curls cascading like waves down her back. The black rose she held made her look like a part of the garden—wild, beautiful, and untouchable.

I waved the guards away without a word.

She didn’t turn. She didn’t acknowledge me.

But I knew she’d sensed me. She just didn’t care.

I stood in front of her, letting my gaze soak in the sight of her. For the first time, we weren’t arguing. We weren’t throwing venom with our words. For the first time... we were just here.

She looked up. “You’re finally doing what I wanted, Alpha Cade.”

Her words hit like a slap—not loud, not harsh, but bruising all the same.

She turned and walked to the orchids, the softest smile playing on her lips. I followed, speechless.

“I think I deserve a reply, Alpha Cade,” she said softly, not even looking at me.

I took in a slow breath. “Yes... I said I would reject the bond. But I’m not going to.”

She stilled.

“I didn’t mean it. Not truly. I never could.”

I reached toward the orchid just as she did. Our hands brushed, and a jolt of heat passed through me. She felt it too—I could tell by how quickly she pulled away, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Hm… really?” she finally said. “Because I’ve wanted to reject you. For a long time.”

She turned, her gaze fierce, lips parted as if she might say more—but didn’t.

“I don’t blame you,” I said gently. “But I’m not giving up on you, Ayla. I’m willing to atone. To face every mistake I made.”

Her expression shifted—guarded, uncertain.

I reached for her hand again, this time holding it with both of mine. “Please. Let me. Let me fix what I broke.”

She pulled her hands away and returned to the roses before finally speaking.

“Reject me as your mate, Cade. I don’t want you.”

Her words sliced through me. I wasn’t expecting forgiveness—not after all I’d done. I didn’t deserve her. But I was ready to atone. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

I was still drowning in the weight of her rejection when her voice snapped me back to the present.

“I’ll be leaving for my cottage tonight.”

“No. You should wait until tomorrow,” I interrupted, almost too quickly. “The healer’s scheduled to check on you in the morning.”

She paused, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll stay in the suite until then.”

Without another word, she turned and walked out of the garden. I followed, keeping a small distance between us as the guards trailed silently behind. Neither of us spoke. Only the quiet murmurs of the palace staff filled the space around us.

When we reached her suite—the same one she’d stayed in before—I could tell she expected me to leave. She stepped inside, her hand on the door, but I didn’t move.

Instead, I leaned against the doorframe, blocking her from closing it.

She shot me a look that clearly said, “What are you still waiting for?”

But I wasn’t paying attention to her glare. My eyes were locked on her lips—soft, full, still damp from where she’d bitten them nervously. 

They moved slightly, and I found myself captivated, unable to look away.

In the next moment, I gently pinned her against the door, my lip collided with hers in a kiss laced with desperation and longing. I kissed her like it was my last chance—because maybe it was.

She gasped, startled, and that was all the invitation I needed to deepen the kiss, savoring the softness of her lips. 

It was hesitant at first, like she was still at war with herself. But it was real. Her lips moved with mine, slow and unsure, yet every bit as hungry.

She kissed me back.