Chapter four: I'm not who I was.

Freya's pov

A week had elapsed, and I still could not decide what to do. The power in me increased daily. The forest spoke to me and the trees obeyed. My sense of hearing, sight, and smell improved. Nevertheless, Finnick's refusal was painful, and I could not get rid of the memory of his words.

Then one night I felt it.

The pull. The bond. Finnick.

I had tried to push it away. But I couldn't. The connection was undeniable. I had thought he had forgotten me. Clearly he hadn't. He was out there. Somewhere.

But to face him again the idea of it, the thought of confronting the Alpha who had shattered me, was terrifying. I could not run forever. I could not hide from this. I could not hide from what was happening to me and what I was becoming.

That night, as I inched my way toward the pack's territory, I saw them. A group of wolves, Finnick's wolves, patrolled the perimeter. Their eyes scanned the shadows.

"Oh, What are they looking for?"

And then, just as I turned to exit the corner, I felt the distinct sway of Finnick’s stare fixed on me. I skipped a beat. I didn’t dare look back.

My body craved the flight, to run as quickly and as far as feasible, but I couldn't. I couldn't transfer.

I could feel him. His presence was like a storm, rolling over me, drawing me in when I tried to pull away. I knew his eyes were burning through my skin, even though I couldn’t see them. Part of me wanted to turn to face him, to ask him what he wanted and finally lay the issue to rest between us, but I was frozen with fear of what he might say or do.

Wolves howled in chorus and a shiver of sound, almost like a physical force, pressed against my chest. The fur on the back of my neck stood on end. The first true emotion I’d felt in days surged up in me, indistinct and impossible to pin down. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was regret.

Wolves' howls died down, but Finnick’s presence didn’t. If anything, it was more intense. Suffocating, impossible to ignore, as if the forest was holding its breath.

I sensed he was near. I did not have to see to feel he was around, somewhere in the shadows, looking at me. I felt every step he took, every time he breathed. It was as if we were connected, Bound by something more significant than I could grasp.

In the face of turning back, the sound of his voice made my heart start racing and had it bouncing in my chest. Angry. Hurt. Confused. I resisted, and the pull became stronger.

Inhale. Start moving. You are once again in the shadows. The sound of the leaves is so loud that it feels as though it could shatter the silence of the forest but you keep moving closer to the edge.

But, still the bond was there, and I found myself being drawn to him.

Halted, throat suddenly dry. The scent was familiar, unplaceable. His scent. A mix of wood smoke, pine, something wild, elemental.My knees wobbled as I took in the scent, tasted it on the back of my throat. The bond between us seemed to roar to life again, sensation a fire in my chest.

Closing my eyes I pressed my hands against my temples. Why now? Why couldn't he leave me alone?

When I last saw him, he said words that cut deeper than a wound.

You’re not strong enough. You’re not fully ready for this. He’d said it like it was a fact well valid, like I was a toddler playing in a world that didn’t belong to me.

The denial had broken me. The denial had enkindled me. It had lit a fire in me, one that hadn’t been there before. The power. The strength. It ran through me now, unfiltered and uncurbed.

Snap of twig underfoot, whirls around instinctively felt the.

He was there.

Finnick. There he was, beyond the trees, in the moonlight, the definition of a silhouette. His hair was wild, his features sharp and almost feral in that soft light. The Alpha. My Alpha.

Heart stuttering, the bond between us singing with my blood. For a moment, neither of us moved. Silence was thick. It was heavy with words we didn’t speak, emotions we didn’t shed. He had amber eyes. They locked onto mine. There was something in them I didn’t quite understand.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to shout. I wanted to demand answers. But the words stuck in my throat. There was too much between us. Too much history. Too much pain.

"Why are you here freya?” Finnick’s voice dismantled the silence, soft but dangerous, like the growl of an angry wolf before it pounces.

The words I spoke were hushed with a choked throat, and my pulse thundered in my ears as I stood there with the idea. I wasn't sure if I wanted to race, or if I wanted to stay back. I only knew that I couldn't keep away from those.

A flicker of something crossed his face—regret? Guilt? The strange bond between us flared, sharper, more intense. His stare eased just for a few seconds before the hardness returned in his eyes.

“You admit you’re up to it now?” he asked, approaching, a heavy frown crumpling his forehead.

"I do not know," I acknowledged in a low tone. “But I’ve concealed from this, long enough.”

The air crackled between us, tension mounting second by second. The energy was on the rise, the raw power of the forest, of the pack, propelling me forward, urging me to meet him.

Unanticipated, he drew nearer, reaching out with his hand.

"Then show me," he whispered.

The moment stretched, and I knew that I was already lost.