Chapter 38: The Price Of Silence

Nuri stayed in her room for hours, drowning in the silence left behind after the fight that morning. She’d told Tempest to stay quiet, and she had. Not a single word. Not a flicker of thought. The stillness had settled so deeply between them, it started to feel like a loss all its own.

And still, every time guilt crept in—every time she caught herself missing her wolf—rage flared hotter.

Tempest had betrayed her. She’d gone behind her back and slept with Rian. Even if he hadn’t killed Peter the way they thought, he’d still lied. Still manipulated. And Tempest had chosen him anyway. She chose to complete the mate bond without even speaking to Nuri first.

No matter how mad Nuri was, some small part of her wanted to understand. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Tempest had said—that being kept apart from her mate was causing her pain. Real pain. And Nuri had chosen to ignore it.

She’d honestly thought Tempest was being dramatic. That she was exaggerating. But maybe… maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Nuri hadn’t taken her seriously enough. And wasn’t that part of the problem?

Nuri walked into the bathroom, her breath slow and deliberate as she stepped in front of the mirror. She hesitated, then lifted her gaze, locking eyes with her reflection.

"Tempest," she whispered. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she felt it—that undeniable stir deep behind her eyes. A flicker of presence. A pulse of something more.

'Nuri,' Tempest responded, her voice soft with hesitation. She didn’t want to fight. She’d made her choice and was too tired to keep defending it.

Nuri gripped the edge of the sink. “I just need to know… why. Why couldn’t you wait? Why didn’t you even talk to me about it first?”

There was a pause, long and aching.

'Because I was afraid you'd say no.' Tempest’s voice was barely a whisper in her mind. 'And I couldn’t take it anymore, Nuri. You felt what it was like to touch Kalmin, to miss his touch. Imagine feeling that need every second and knowing you might never have it—because the girl who shares your soul doesn’t think you’re in enough pain to matter.'

Nuri’s throat tightened. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

'You didn’t want to know,' Tempest said gently. 'You were so focused on protecting yourself from being hurt again, you forgot I can’t separate from you. I feel it all. I couldn’t shut it off the way you can.'

“I’m sorry,” Nuri whispered. And she meant it. It didn’t erase what Tempest had done, but it cracked the ice. And that was enough to look past the betrayal—for now. “Really, I am. I shouldn’t have belittled your pain and ignored it. I should have listened to you.”

'I didn’t want to hurt you, Nuri,' Tempest said. 'But I needed something to hold on to. I needed Rian. Not just the way wolves need their mates… I needed someone who saw me as me. Who didn’t expect me to always stay in the background.'

Nuri blinked hard. “I didn’t mean to make you feel invisible.”

'I know. But sometimes, you forget I’m not just a voice in your head. I’m real. I feel things. I make choices. I love him. Even if it was selfish… I love him.'

Nuri looked at her reflection, at the gleam in her eyes that didn’t quite belong to her alone. “I want to understand. I really do. I just… I don’t know how to forgive you yet. Either of you.”

'Then let me help,' Tempest whispered. 'Let’s try to fix this together.'

Nuri swallowed hard, her breath uneven. “Okay,” she whispered, barely above a breath. She stole one last glance at her reflection before turning away, each step feeling heavier than the last. She searched Kalmin’s room—empty. His study—empty. Rian’s den—also vacant.

A sudden spike of panic tightened her chest. Where was Kalmin? She hadn’t heard a door slam, no footsteps on the porch, no engine starting in the driveway. It was like he had simply vanished.

Her heart hammered fiercely, echoing in her ears as the silence around her grew deafening.

Nuri’s footsteps echoed softly as she moved through the quiet house, her heart hammering in her chest. Each empty room made her chest tighten more — Kalmin was nowhere to be found. Panic fluttered beneath her skin. ‘Where are you’  She whispered in her mind.

She grabbed her jacket and slipped outside, the cool air hitting her face as she scanned the yard. Her gaze was pulled instinctively toward the riverbank — the place where Kalmin had taken her to merge, where they had first become one.

There, by the water’s edge, she spotted him. Kalmin stood still, gazing out over the river, shoulders tense but his posture unguarded.

“Nuri.” His voice was low, surprised but soft when he finally turned to look at her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You found me,” he said softly, his gaze locking onto her pale blue eyes, searching for any sign of what she was feeling. He expected anger—rightfully so—but he couldn’t help wonder why she’d come looking for him now, after all this time of avoiding him.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” Nuri’s voice cracked as she spoke, raw and trembling. “Instead of letting me believe you were responsible for Peter’s death… why didn’t you just tell me you were taking the fall for a beta?”

Kalmin opened his mouth to answer, but she lifted a finger sharply, silencing him.

“No. I need to say this.” Her voice rose, emotion swelling in her chest. “Did you really think I’d run off screaming to the pack? That I’d betray you? The same pack that treated me like garbage for most of my life? The ones who mocked me, belittled me, made me feel like I didn’t belong? I have to understand what part of that made you think lying to me was better than trusting me with the truth.”

Kalmin’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away. He let the silence stretch, like he needed the extra seconds just to steady himself.

“I didn’t think you’d run to the pack,” he said at last, voice low. “That’s not why I kept it from you.”

Nuri stayed quiet, watching him.

He shifted his weight, eyes dropping to the dirt beneath them. “I couldn’t say it out loud. Not to anyone. Not even myself, really. The beta who was supposed to serve me, to protect the pack through my orders—he looked me in the face and made a choice. One that said he didn’t think I was strong enough to lead.”

His words came slower now, heavier.

“I didn’t know. Truly and honestly, I didn’t know what he was going to do until after it was done. I didn’t order Peter’s death; he did, and he told the others the order came from me. Once it was done, I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t admit to all of them that Ellery had made the call unbeknownst to me.”

He finally looked up, pain flickering in his green eyes. “So I stayed quiet. I let everyone believe I was the one who made the call, because if word got out that my own beta disobeyed me, and worse made the call on my behalf, it wouldn’t have just been a stain on my leadership—it would’ve been proof I never had control to begin with.”

Nuri’s lips parted, but no sound came. Her heart beat against her ribs, a slow and conflicted thrum. Kalmin’s voice had always been calm, steady—measured like someone who knew how much weight his words carried. But this? This was the first time she’d heard it break.

He took a breath, one hand tightening into a fist at his side. “I didn’t lie to you because I didn’t trust you, Nuri. I lied because I hated how much I hated myself in that moment.”

Nuri’s throat tightened. She wanted to hold onto the anger—to keep the wall up just a little longer, to make sure he felt the weight of how deeply he’d hurt her. But seeing him like this—unraveled and raw—made it impossible. She looked at him, really looked—and for a second, all the anger she’d clung to felt like armor that had outlived its use.

It didn’t undo the weeks of silence, or the guilt that had eaten her alive. It didn’t erase the heartbreak of losing Peter. But for the first time, she understood why Kalmin had stayed quiet. And that mattered.

“Kalmin…” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

He didn’t move. Just stood there, waiting—like whatever she said next might be the final blow.

She stepped closer, slow and careful, her brow furrowed with emotion. “You should’ve told me sooner. I wouldn’t have thought less of you. What Ellery did? That doesn’t reflect on you. If anything, saying it out loud—owning it—that proves you’re a better leader than he ever gave you credit for.”

Her voice wavered, but she didn’t stop. “Letting your pride as an alpha matter more than how I felt? That was the stupidest fucking thing you could’ve done. But I’m not an alpha. I’m not someone who clawed their way up from omega. I can’t pretend to know what that betrayal felt like for you.”

Kalmin’s jaw clenched, his gaze flicking up to hers, searching for the moment she’d take it all back.

“But you have to stop carrying everything alone,” she said. “You have me now. You have Tempest. And Rian. You don’t have to drown in this by yourself.”

The wind stirred the leaves around them, soft and steady.

And then Kalmin nodded—not fast, not certain, but like a man finally beginning to believe he was seen. Not as an alpha. Not as a leader. Just as himself.

“I’m sorry,” Kalmin said, voice rough with everything he hadn’t said. “For all of it. For not trusting you. For making you feel like you didn’t matter.” He hesitated, the words thick in his throat. “You do. You always have.”

It cost him more than he thought it would—to admit that. To bare the ugly parts of himself and offer them up without defense. But she deserved the truth. All of it.

He watched her, eyes flicking to the way her lashes lowered, the tremble in her breath. She didn’t cry, not really, but something in her shifted. Cracked. And it undid him.

“I know,” she whispered, and even that broke something soft and aching inside his chest. “Just… don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” he said, and meant it with every goddamn piece of him.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It throbbed, full of the past and the pain and something else—something old and restless and still alive between them.

She stepped toward him. Once. Then again.

His breath stilled.

Kalmin didn’t reach for her, didn’t dare. If she wanted space, he’d give it. If she wanted distance, he’d build a wall and stand behind it. But if she touched him—if she closed that space—

Her fingers brushed his jaw. Light. Tentative.

His heart kicked hard against his ribs.

He leaned into it before he could stop himself. Her touch was soft but it grounded him, tethered him, like a promise he hadn’t dared to hope for. She was warm and real and close enough that her scent curled into his lungs—sweet, familiar, maddening.

Gods, he missed her. Not just her laughter or her fire or the way she challenged him. He missed this. The weight of her gaze. The feeling of her hand on his skin. The way the world went quiet when she looked at him like that.

He wanted to touch her. To close the distance fully, drag her to him and feel her body melt against his. But he didn’t move.

He couldn’t—not until she gave him permission.

Her hand stayed on his face. Her eyes stayed on him.

She didn’t forgive him yet. But she didn’t walk away.

And that—gods, that was enough to breathe again.

The wind stirred around them, carrying the scent of moss and sun-warmed earth. The river whispered beside them. The setting sun caught in her hair and painted her in light.

Her fingers stayed at the edge of his jaw, thumb barely grazing the rough stubble along his cheek. That was all it took to set him burning. Every muscle in Kalmin’s body locked tight with the effort not to move. Not to ruin it. Not to want too much, too fast.

But gods, he wanted.

He wanted to drag her against him and bury his face in her neck just to breathe her in. He wanted to press his mouth to every place he’d hurt her and make her feel something else—something better. He wanted to rewrite every damn second he’d spent pushing her away.

Instead, he stood there, letting her hand burn against his skin.

Nuri’s eyes searched his like she was trying to read him down to the bone. Maybe she found what she was looking for. Maybe she was just tired of pretending she didn’t feel it too.

Because she leaned in.

Slowly. Cautiously. Deliberately.

Kalmin didn’t move. Couldn’t. He was too afraid to break the moment. Too afraid to wake up and realize it wasn’t real.

But then her forehead touched his. Her breath mingled with his.

And he was done pretending.

His hand came up, tentative at first, fingers brushing her hip like he thought she might pull away. When she didn’t, he slid his palm to her lower back, guiding her closer until their bodies almost touched. Heat roared through him like a wildfire—low and aching and impossible to ignore.

Still, he held back. Just enough.

His voice was barely a breath when he spoke. “Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she tilted her chin up, closing the last inch between them.

And then she kissed him.

Soft at first—like she wasn’t sure. Like she expected him to vanish. But Kalmin didn’t hesitate. He sank into her like he’d been waiting forever, mouth parting against hers, hands pulling her flush to him, heart hammering like he’d just come back from war.

She tasted like forgiveness. Like fire and rain and everything he’d missed.

Her fingers curled into his shirt. His grip tightened at her waist.

There was nothing tentative left in the way he kissed her back.

He was hers. Always had been.