She's Here - Kade

This was flame-wreckage and steel. This was a woman who had bled, hard, and kept walking.

And fuck, my body remembered, even after all this time.

Even now.

All of her hit like a drug I didn’t want to need.

She looked older. Not aged. Seasoned and mythic.

Her hair had grown out. No longer the tightly braided rope I used to pull when she got too mouthy, but a loose silver fall, wild and windswept, reaching down to her waist like a banner. She didn’t braid it anymore, didn’t hide it, didn’t care who saw her coming.

And that, that right there, was the worst part.

Because I had no fucking clue who she was now. And I already knew I’d burn my life to the ground to find out.

The coat she wore was too big on her, but it worked. Black wool, cinched at the waist, skimming over hips that had sharpened, legs long and braced like she was ready to either bolt or throw someone through a wall. And Gods, she would’ve. She’d always been that kind of woman. Fight or flight with no warning.

And her face, fuck.

That face had lived behind my eyelids for years. I used to wake from sleep sweating, fists clenched, because I saw it too clearly. The planes of her cheekbones, sculpted and sharp. The flush climbing her skin from the cold. That mouth, still bare, still full, still the softest thing I’d ever bruised with my teeth.

And her eyes.

Storm-grey, but colder now, flat like glass over ice. She’d buried the fire that used to live behind them. Banked it. Boarded it up. Like she didn’t want anyone, especially me, to see what still burned in the ashes.

But I’d seen that fire. I’d watched it rage, when she kissed me like she was starving, when she screamed and came for me, when she told me she loved me and I was too much of a coward to believe it. And now it was gone. Or hidden. And I wasn’t sure which was worse.

She wasn’t giving me anything. No flicker of recognition. No warmth. No fury. Just that blank stare, that polished mask. She’d locked the world out and left me standing on the other side of the glass.

And none of it should’ve mattered. Should’ve been easy to write off. But she was still the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen.

And I hated that.

Gods help me, I hated that more than anything.

Everything else: the forest, the snow, even her, faded into dust the moment my eyes landed on what flanked her.

Two children. Pups. Twins.

They stood half-shadowed behind her legs, clinging to the hem of her coat, anchoring them to the earth. My vision narrowed, breath hitching in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Not from pain. Not from fear. From something older. Deeper. Something feral.

I blinked once. Twice. But the image didn’t change.

Small, far too still for children their age. The boy met my gaze head-on, his jaw clenched like he was daring me to try something. The girl leaned in closer to Cassia’s hip, one hand curling around the fabric as her wide eyes studied me with open curiosity, barely veiled by the practiced caution of a child who already knew too much.

My chest pulled tight, a twist of muscle and memory that bordered on violent. My balance shifted, subtle but undeniable, like the ground had tilted beneath my boots and I was the only one who noticed.

I inhaled, sharp and slow.

Their scent hit me faintly, masked, dulled, deliberately muddied, but it was there. A thread of her, tangled with something else. Something I couldn’t name.

They didn’t smell like pack-born pups. They smelled like the wild. Exile and survival.

And still, the beast in me recognized them. Not entirely. But on some ancient level, my wolf stirred. Growled.

I buried it all under ice. Let nothing show. Because she was watching.

Cassia didn’t flinch when I stepped forward. Didn’t soften. Her eyes were steel as she pulled a folded paper from her coat and held it out between us like a fucking peace treaty.

“I have legal clearance,” she said. Voice flat. Controlled. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

No apology. No emotion. Just that same cold defiance wrapped in velvet.

I took another step. Close enough now to scent the stress coiled in her blood, the adrenaline barely held in check. “No?” I asked, voice low. “Then what are you here for?”

Her lips twitched. Not a smile, not even close. A blade in disguise, polished to look like something soft.

“Would you believe me if I said… closure?”

The word landed between us like a lie wrapped in silk. And all I could think was, she was hiding something. And whatever it was, it had just walked into my territory on two small legs.

My eyes kept drifting back to the kids. The girl had her eyes, grey and watchful, too knowing for a child that size. And the boy, the way he stood, fists clenched, chin tilted in challenge, that temper, it felt like mine.

“You expect me to house you?” I snapped, sharper than I meant it, the words flaring before I could leash them.

Cassia didn’t flinch. She simply extended the envelope again, her hand steady, her voice cold as the mountain air. “I expect nothing. But I have rights. Temporary sanctuary. Even the Council can’t deny that.”

Of course she knew the laws. Of course she came armed with paperwork, with ironclad conditions. She hadn’t left anything to chance, not the terms of her stay, not the timing of her arrival, and sure as hell not the words she used. She’d known I couldn’t say no.

I turned to Marcus, jaw clenched. “Find them a room. Secure, but comfortable.”

He hesitated, that twitch in his brow saying he was about to argue. “Alpha…”

“Do it.” The words came out like a growl.

Cassia dipped her head in a mimicry of obedience, barely more than a twitch of her chin. Polite, I was nothing more than a bureaucrat, a gatekeeper. Like we hadn’t once laid claim to each other in ways that could never be erased. Like she hadn’t once moaned my name like it was sacred. Like I hadn’t once sworn to make her my Luna.

I turned away before the weight of it all cracked me open. But then her daughter spoke.

“Mama…” The girl’s voice was quiet. Curious. Soft enough that it might’ve been mistaken for wind through the trees. “Why was that man looking at us like that?”

Silence stretched. One beat. Two.

Then Cassia’s voice followed, lower, slower, careful like every word might set something off.

“Because sometimes… the past doesn’t stay buried.”

I kept walking. Didn’t let myself ask what the hell that meant.

Not then. But later, I’d remember that sentence like it was a curse etched into my bones.

Because Cassia hadn’t just returned, she’d brought something with her.

And whatever it was… it was going to change everything.