Where are you going, little one?

Rose’s POV

The soft click echoed like a gunshot in the silent corridor.

I stood frozen on the other side of the heavy oak door, one palm still pressed flat against the dark wood as if I could somehow push the moment back inside. My heart hammered so violently I could feel it in my throat, in my temples, in the fresh claiming bite that throbbed beneath the high collar of my jacket like a second, traitorous heartbeat. The stone floor was ice beneath my boots. The air smelled of old wax, cold stone, and the faint, lingering trace of pine smoke that had followed me out like an accusation.

I couldn’t breathe.

The bond tugged—gentle at first, then sharper, like a golden thread pulled taut across the distance I had just created. Not pain. Not yet. Just… awareness. Confusion. A sleeping mind reaching for the warmth that had vanished from its side.

*Where are you going, little one?*

The words weren’t spoken, but I felt them all the same—Jason’s voice inside my chest, low and velvet-rough even in sleep. My wolf whined softly, circling restlessly beneath my ribs, tail low. She didn’t understand. She only knew that her mate was behind that door, warm and safe and *ours*, and we had walked away.

*He needs us,* she pressed, sending a wave of memory that hit like a physical blow: the weight of his arm across my waist, the slow stroke of his thumb over the faint swell of my belly, the way he had murmured *“Mine to cherish”* against my skin as the bond snapped into place.

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my hand away from the door.

*This is the right thing,* I told myself again, the mantra already worn thin. *This protects him. Protects us both.*

My legs moved before my mind caught up. One step. Two. Each one stretched the bond further—not breaking it, never that—but straining it like a living muscle pulled too tight. The corridor stretched endlessly before me, ancient tapestries fluttering in the pre-dawn draft, scenes of long-ago claims and pack alliances watching me with painted eyes that suddenly felt judgmental. My boots echoed too loudly, each footfall a betrayal that seemed to shout my guilt into the emptiness.

I was sore in ways I had never imagined. Not just the pleasant ache between my thighs or the faint fullness low in my belly that still sloshed warmly with every step. The claiming bite burned like a brand against my collar, the skin around it tender and slightly swollen. My scent had changed—I could smell it on myself now, layered and richer, pine and iron woven permanently into my own sweet omega notes like ink that could never be washed out. Anyone with a nose would know. Anyone who looked too closely would see.

By the time I reached the omega dormitory wing, my hands were shaking so badly I fumbled the key twice before the lock clicked open. The small room was dark and still, my roommate long since gone for an early shift in the infirmary. I didn’t turn on the light. I didn’t need to. I crossed to the narrow mirror above the washbasin and stared at the stranger looking back.

My hair was a wild tangle, braid half-undone from his fingers. My cheeks were flushed, lips still faintly swollen. But it was my eyes that scared me most—wide, glassy, glowing with the faint golden sheen of a newly bonded omega. The high collar of my jacket hid the bite, but I could feel it pulsing like a living thing. I unzipped it just enough to see the edge in the reflection: two perfect crescents, still red and glistening with the faintest trace of healing saliva.

Proof.

Irrevocable.

I touched it with trembling fingers and a broken sound escaped me—half sob, half moan. The bond answered immediately, a warm pulse of concern from the other end of the academy. He was waking. I felt it: the shift from deep sleep to groggy awareness, the instinctive reach across cold sheets, the low rumble of his voice in his chest as he said my name aloud even though I wasn’t there.

*Rose.*

The single word carried through the bond like a caress and a question all at once.

I zipped the collar back up so fast the fabric scraped the mark. Pain flared, sharp and grounding. Good. I deserved it.

I changed quickly, hands moving on autopilot—fresh underthings, clean uniform, another layer of suppressants choked down dry even though I knew they were useless now. The bond had burned through them the moment it snapped. My wolf watched the whole process with growing distress, sending image after image: Jason’s face when he woke alone, the empty space beside him, the way his hand would curl into the sheets searching for me.

*He will worry,* she insisted. *Go back. Explain. We are stronger together.*

I ignored her and left the dorm before the first rays of true dawn could touch the windows.