Chapter 17

Eric's POV

It becomes obvious, eventually, that Cora isn’t just improving.

She’s thriving.

I don’t realize how much space Cora has taken up in my life until I try to picture my days without her.

The image doesn’t settle.

She’s there every morning now, standing across from me in the training yard, hair pulled back, eyes focused and bright with purpose. Where she once moved cautiously, she now moves with confidence, fluid, controlled, precise. She reads opponents instinctively, adapts mid-strike, and pushes herself harder than anyone else.

Including me.

“Again,” I tell her, even though she’s already breathing hard.

She grins, not cocky, not reckless. Just determined.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

She comes at me fast, faster than yesterday. I barely block in time, surprise flickering through me before discipline snaps it away. Her strength has grown exponentially, but it’s her control that’s staggering. She doesn’t fight with desperation anymore.

She fights like someone who knows she’ll win eventually.

Every morning and sometimes afternoon in the training yard reinforces it. Her movements are sharper, more confident. Where she once hesitated, she now commits fully, trusting her instincts instead of questioning them. She adapts mid-fight, learns from mistakes immediately, and pushes herself harder than I ever would have dared to push her at the beginning.

Today, she disarms Anton in under thirty seconds.

He stares at the ground, then at her, disbelief etched across his face. “I’m officially offended.”

Cora laughs, breathless and bright, brushing hair from her face. “You taught me that move.”

“You weren’t supposed to use it against me,” he grumbles.

I watch her from across the yard, arms crossed, chest tight with something that has nothing to do with Alpha pride.

She’s strong.

Not just in body, but in spirit. In will. In the quiet way she stands taller now, shoulders back, eyes steady.

She catches me looking and smiles, just a little.

It hits me harder than it should.

After training, Hannah drags her away, looping an arm through Cora’s and chattering excitedly about plans I don’t fully catch. The two of them have grown inseparable. Hannah brings Cora into everything, meals, walks, late-night conversations that end in quiet laughter.

“She’s my best friend,” Hannah declares one night, entirely unapologetic.

Cora freezes, clearly unused to the title.

Then she smiles.

It’s small. Real.

Something in my chest eases when I see that she belongs here, not because I allowed it, but because the pack accepted her without question.

Anton treats her like a younger sister and a fellow warrior all at once. They spar hard, tease relentlessly, and sit together after patrols, trading stories. She fits in so seamlessly it’s hard to remember she once stood alone.

The thought makes my jaw tighten.

I won’t let that happen again.

Hannah, unsurprisingly, notices everything.

“You’re staring bro,” she says later, as she and Cora return from the store, arms full of bags and laughter.

“I’m not,” I reply automatically.

Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I don’t steal your hoodies.”

Cora flushes, ducking her head. “She’s exaggerating.”

“She’s not,” Hannah says cheerfully. “But it’s cute.”

Cora groans. I hide my smile.

The date is my idea.

I almost don’t suggest it, hesitation creeping in, old habits whispering warnings, but I refuse to let fear dictate my choices anymore.

There’s a small restaurant on the edge of pack territory. Quiet. Family-owned. Warm lighting and familiar faces. Somewhere no one expects the Alpha to put on airs.

When I tell her where we’re going, her eyes light up with nervous excitement.

“I’ve never been on a real date,” she admits as we walk inside.

Something twists painfully in my chest. “Then we’ll keep it simple.”

The place smells like spices and baked bread. We sit in a corner booth, close enough to hear each other without raising our voices. She studies the menu like it’s an exam.

“What do you usually get?” she asks.

“Whatever the cook recommends.”

She smiles. “Figures.”

When the food arrives, she takes her first bite and lets out a quiet, involuntary hum of appreciation.

“Oh,” she says. “This is really good.”

I find myself watching her more than my plate.

She talks about training, about how good it feels to move without fear, to trust her body. About Hannah, and how she’s never had a friend who made space for her without demanding anything in return.

“I didn’t know life could feel this… easy,” she says softly.

I nod. “You earned it.”

The conversation drifts naturally. Stories. Laughter. Comfortable silences that don’t need filling.

Eventually, the mood shifts.

“My mate,” I say quietly, fingers tightening around my glass. “She loved someone else.”

Cora stills, listening.

“We tried,” I continue. “We did what was expected of us. But there was always distance. When she died… everyone assumed I lost the love of my life.”

I shake my head. “What I lost was a possibility that never had the chance to exist.”

Her eyes soften. “I think that still hurts.”

“It does,” I admit. “But I don’t want to live in regret anymore.”

She meets my gaze. “Neither do I.”

“I think,” she says quietly, “sometimes we’re bonded to the wrong people. And it takes losing them to find the right one.”

The words hit harder than I expect.

I look at her then, really look at her. At the strength she’s carved out of pain. At the gentleness she offers despite everything taken from her.

“I don’t want obligation again,” I admit. “If I choose someone—if I let myself feel—it has to be because I want them. Not because fate demands it.”

She nods. “I understand

The drive home is quiet, comfortable.

When we stop in front of the pack house, neither of us moves to get out.

The moment stretches.

“Tonight was really nice,” she says finally.

“It was,” I agree.

I turn toward her, heart steady, decision clear.

“Cora,” I murmur. “I want to kiss you.”

Her breath catches. “I want you to.”

I lean in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.

She doesn’t.

The kiss is gentle at first, soft, deliberate. My hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing warm skin as she sighs against my mouth. When she leans closer, I deepen it just enough to let her feel the intent behind it.

Not rushed.

Not claiming.

Just choice.

When I pull back, her forehead rests against mine.

“I’m glad,” she whispers, “that you found me.”

“So am I,” I reply.

Inside the house, Anton waits near my office, expression sobering the warmth still lingering in my chest.

Cora smiles at him "Hey Anton"

"Enjoy your date" He tease

I side eye him as Cora smiles shyly and hurries away.

“Derek Lincoln will arrive tomorrow,” he says. “With his son.”

The world shifts back into focus.

I nod once. “Prepare the council chamber.”

As I watch Cora disappear down the hallway, something tightens in my chest.

Whatever tomorrow brings.

I won’t let it take this from us.