Into The Furnace.

Winter’s POV:

Night settles over the pack eventually.

Dinner ended hours ago, but the warmth of the hall still lingers faintly in my memory. Laughter, clinking plates, the low rumble of conversation. It should have felt normal.

But one chair stayed empty.

Keon’s.

I noticed it immediately. Everyone pretended not to.

I tried not to stare at the space where he usually sits, but it felt wrong without him there. Like a missing heartbeat in a body that still tries to function.

Now the palace is quiet again. The halls are silent, save for the maids that are still clearing the dinning hall.

In Derrick's room, there's this kind of quiet that presses against your ears.

Steam still curls through the room from the bath I took moments ago. My hair is damp against my shoulders, the thin fabric of my sleep shirt clinging slightly to my skin. The air feels cooler after the heat of the water, and goosebumps rise along my arms.

I sit at the edge of the bed, brushing slowly through my hair.

My mind drifts back to the courtyard.

To the way Keon looked at me.

That steady gaze that didn’t accuse or question… just watched.

It made my back burn.

And then he walked past me like I wasn’t something he could touch.

My chest tightens at the memory.

Maybe he’s angry.

Maybe he’s just tired.

Maybe all of this, the attack, trying to find the attacker, Wally, the pack tension, me, all of it has finally caught up to him.

I know my people would not be pleased. I just displayed their weakness in front of everyone. Made them look easy to prey on. Ariana didn't have to tell me how much Father was displeased. I could feel it deep in my core.

I can feel my heart racing. I need to calm down before someone notices.

I try to calm myself by twisting the end of the brush in my fingers.

My mind drifts back to Keon and his dark eyes.

I hope he’s okay.

The thought comes before I can stop it.

A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts.

I glance at the door.

My heart stutters.

“Winter?” Derrick’s voice filters through the wood. Low. Careful.

I hesitate only a second before answering.

“Come in.”

The door opens slowly.

Derrick steps inside, closing it quietly behind him. The room is dim except for the small lamp beside my bed, and the soft light catches the damp strands of my hair.

His eyes notice immediately.

They flicker over me, from the top of my head, to my linen white dress, to my feet. His gaze is quick and controlled, but I see the moment they linger.

“You just showered,” he says.

It isn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

I suddenly feel very aware of the thin fabric against my skin.

Derrick leans lightly against the wall near the door, arms crossing loosely.

“I didn’t see you after dinner,” he says.

“I left early.”

His gaze softens slightly. “You looked tired.”

“I was thinking.”

“About today?”

I nod.

The courtyard. Keon. The way everything felt like it was balancing on something fragile.

Derrick watches me for a moment before speaking again.

“You’re doing that thing,” he says.

“What thing?”

“Taking responsibility for things that aren’t yours.”

I sigh softly, setting the brush aside.

“Keon didn’t come to dinner.”

Derrick’s expression shifts slightly at the name.

“That’s what this is about?”

“He’s been dealing with everything because of me,” I say quietly. “The pack tension… Wally… everything.”

Derrick studies me carefully.

“That’s not because of you,” he says. “That’s because he’s Alpha.”

I look down at my hands.

“It still feels like my fault.”

Silence settles between us.

Derrick pushes off the wall slowly.

The distance between us shrinks as he walks closer, his footsteps quiet against the floor.

“Winter.”

I look up.

He stops just a few steps away now.

Close enough that I can see the slight shift in his breathing.

“You’re allowed to exist without apologizing for it,” he says softly.

My throat tightens.

“You make it sound easy.”

“It should be.”

His eyes flicker briefly over my damp hair again.

“You’re shaking.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

The corner of his mouth lifts faintly.

The teasing is gentle, but the air between us feels heavier than before.

My pulse starts to quicken.

Maybe it’s the quiet.

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, Maybe it’s the memory of Keon’s gaze still lingering under my skin, but the room feels hotter than it was a few minutes ago.

Derrick takes another small step closer.

The movement is slow enough that I could move away if I wanted to.

But I don’t.

“You’ve been tense all day,” he murmurs.

“I’m fine.”

“Winter.”

The way he says my name makes my stomach twist.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The words settle into the quiet room.

Outside, the wind brushes lightly through the trees.

Inside, the air feels warmer.

I realize how close he is now.

Too close to ignore.

And for a brief second,

My mind flashes to Keon again.

To the way he walked past me.

To the way his eyes never left mine.

My breath catches slightly.

Derrick notices.

His gaze sharpens just a little.

“You’re thinking about him,” he says quietly.

It’s not accusing.

Just observant.

I don’t answer.

But the silence says enough.

Something shifts in Derrick’s expression then.

Not anger.

Not frustration.

Just a quiet decision.

He lifts a hand slowly.

For a moment I think he’s going to touch my face, but instead his fingers brush lightly against my thigh.

Barely there.

Still, the contact sends a spark up my core.

My breath hitches.

Derrick notices that too.

And now the room feels hot enough to have a campfire.