Chapter 14 Rhett

The sunrise didn’t feel like a new beginning. It felt like a warning. Rhett stood at the perimeter line of Blackstone’s northern ridge, wind tugging at his sleeves as the scent of morning dew and pine curled around him. Below, the pack compound stirred. Taining rotations resuming, patrols swapping out, another day pretending everything was normal.

It wasn’t. He could still feel the taste of her, Mira. The fire in her touch, the demand in her kiss, the way the bond had burned through him like wildfire the second he let go.

He had kissed her like a drowning man, and then, like a coward, he’d walked away. Not because he didn’t want her, but because the moment he gave in, he felt the entire foundation of his control begin to splinter.

He didn’t know how to lead while falling apart, and the bond—the triad—was tearing at the seams of every rule that had kept him grounded.

⸻

“You look like shit.” Rhett didn’t turn. Tarek’s voice came from behind him, steady, casual, but not unkind. “I mean that affectionately,” Tarek added. “Mostly.” Rhett exhaled slowly, eyes still on the horizon. “You always find me when I least want company.”

“That’s the point of being your Beta,” Tarek said, walking up beside him. “Unwanted wisdom, well-timed sarcasm, and the occasional punch in the face when you’re being an ass.”

Rhett glanced at him. “You think I’m being an ass?” “I think you kissed your mate and then locked yourself in your office like she didn’t just tear something open in you,” Tarek replied. “So yes, Alpha, I do.”

Rhett’s jaw flexed. Tarek waited a beat, then added, quieter, “She’s not the only one feeling the consequences, you know.” Rhett’s eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about Rowan.”

“Jace,” Tarek corrected gently. “You should probably start using his name if he’s going to end up tied to your soul.” Rhett said nothing because the silence said enough.

“I saw how he looked at you last night,” Tarek continued. “He’s not confused. Not bitter. He’s watching. Trying to understand where he fits.” “He doesn’t,” Rhett muttered. Tarek turned fully to face him. “Yes, he does. You just don’t want him to.”

The wind carried silence between them for a long moment. “I’ve followed you for a long time, Rhett,” Tarek said, his voice lower now. “Before you were Alpha. Before you knew who you were. And I’ve never seen you run from a fight.”

“I’m not running.” Rhett growled. “You’re stalling.” Tarek’s tone sharpened. “And worse, you’re trying to cut out the one person who might actually keep you balanced.”

Rhett frowned. “You think he balances me?” “I think,” Tarek said, “you’ve spent so long being the one in control, you don’t know what it feels like to be held up by someone else. Jace? He’s a Beta. He’s not going to try to outrank you. He’s not here to fight for dominance. He’s here because the gods decided you’re not supposed to carry this alone.”

Rhett’s throat tightened. He hated how much of that rang true.

“Do you remember what I was like when you promoted me?” Tarek asked suddenly. Rhett blinked. “Of course. You were reckless. Blunt. Overconfident.”

Tarek smirked. “And right about half the time. Rhett huffed a breath. “Maybe.” “You promoted me,” Tarek said, “not because I was the best fighter, or the most obedient, but because I saw you. Even when you didn’t want to be seen.”

He turned to him fully now, hands in his pockets.

“I see you now too,” he said. “You’re scared. Not of her. Not even of him. Well, maybe a little scared of him because you would have to change your view of yourself if you admit that you can be mated to a man. It’s more than that though. You’re scared that if you let yourself have this, if you lean into something that isn’t entirely yours to command, you’ll lose everything you built.”

Rhett didn’t respond. Tarek didn’t need him to. “But maybe,” Tarek added, “the next phase of your life isn’t about protecting power. Maybe it’s about choosing people.” He clapped Rhett’s shoulder once, solid and certain, and then turned to walk back down the ridge.

Rhett stayed behind. Alone. He watched the sun crest the horizon, gold bleeding through clouds. He thought of Mira’s mouth. Of Jace’s eyes watching him across the compound, steady, unreadable, not accusing. Just waiting. The bond was pulsing more now.

It wasn’t just Mira’s fire in his chest anymore. There was another presence, softer, patient, curling around the edges of his awareness like water meeting stone, and his wolf didn’t recoil. It rested.

He hated how much comfort that brought him.