Chapter 119

DEREK

There were only so many cold showers a man could take.

I gritted my teeth, sweat dripping from my brow as I drove my elbow into Kieran’s gut and pivoted just in time to avoid a sweeping leg kick from Brock. The Silverclaw training grounds echoed with the sound of fists hitting flesh and bodies slamming against the dirt, but I barely heard it over the pounding in my head.

The grotto. Elena’s mouth. The moonlight on her skin. The way her body fit against mine like the missing half of something I hadn’t realized was missing until it clicked into place.

And then she’d run.

It didn’t matter how many times I replayed it—her whisper of “I can’t,” the way her eyes had gone wide with something like fear, or grief, or both. I couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t stop feeling the ghost of her touch.

So I fought.

“Come on!” I barked, dodging Brock’s strike and sending Kieran sprawling with a shoulder slam. “You both still breathing?”

“Barely,” Brock grunted, shaking out his arm.

“Get up.”

“You’re a lunatic,” Kieran said from the ground.

“Alpha lunatic,” I corrected, rolling my neck. “Now move.”

They scrambled up, circling me warily this time. It wasn’t a real fight—there were rules, of course—but I was dancing on the edge of something feral. The instinct to release, to destroy, to burn through every bit of emotion boiling under my skin.

Elena had left me standing alone in the grotto, bare and blinking like a fool. And I deserved that. Maybe. But I couldn’t get her out of my head.

She’d let me in—and then locked the door again.

Brock lunged. I sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and twisted, using his momentum to send him flying over my hip. He hit the dirt with a grunt.

Kieran hesitated a second too long, and I drove forward with a low tackle that knocked the wind out of both of us as we crashed down. My shoulder slammed into his chest, pinning him, and he groaned in protest.

“Yield,” I growled.

“Yield,” he coughed, and I rolled off.

I pushed myself to my feet, panting. My T-shirt was soaked through, blood dripping from a split knuckle. I barely noticed. I stood above the two warriors, chests heaving, and finally—finally—I felt something like stillness creep into my bones.

I grabbed a towel from the rack at the edge of the field, wiping the sweat from my face as I headed back toward the packhouse.

“Alpha!” Joe’s voice called from the side porch. He had a clipboard in hand and a smirk on his face. “You trying to kill our best fighters before breakfast?”

“Just warming them up,” I said, tossing the towel around my neck.

Joe fell into step beside me as I climbed the porch stairs.

“Camping trip’s all set. Friday through Sunday. We’ll set everything up before you and Aiden get there.”

“Good,” I said, already picturing it—me and my son under the stars, a real fire, no politics or pack dynamics. Just a chance to show him who I was without the weight of everything I’d screwed up.

Joe flipped a page on his clipboard. “Fishing gear’s packed. Sleeping bags. I made sure we had extra marshmallows this time.”

“Chocolate?”

“Three bars per person.”

I nodded. “Perfect. I want a full security sweep before we arrive. No surprises.”

“You got it.”

He gave me a look then—one I didn’t miss.

“What?”

“You’re excited.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

Joe shrugged. “You’ve had a lot taken from you. It’s good to see you building something.”

I didn’t answer, just clapped him on the shoulder and headed inside. I still had a call to make, and I wanted to be clean when I made it.

After a long shower—hot this time, though it did nothing to calm the nerves tangled in my gut—I changed into a soft charcoal shirt and jeans and sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in hand. The number was already in my favorites.

I stared at it for a long moment before pressing call.

It rang twice before she picked up.

“Elena Hart,” she said, her voice clipped. Businesslike.

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Hi. It’s Derek.”

A beat of silence. “I know.”

Right. Dumb start.

“I just wanted to confirm. I’ll be picking Aiden up from the schoolhouse on Friday, right after his classes let out.”

“That’s fine.”

“I’ll have his car seat installed and snacks packed. Joe’s finalizing the itinerary. The site is secure.”

“Okay.”

God, she sounded so distant. Like I’d dreamed everything that happened between us. Like she hadn’t moaned my name under the moonlight. Like she hadn’t pressed her body against mine and then bolted like I’d lit her on fire.

“Right,” I said, fumbling for my next words. “Well. I just wanted to make sure—”

“Wait.”

Her voice was softer this time. I froze.

“I wanted to say… I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For the way I ran off that night. I should have stayed. Talked to you. You didn’t deserve to be left like that.”

I sat straighter, the phone clutched tight to my ear. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she replied. “You… deserved an explanation. And I owed myself the space to give one.”

“Elena—” I cleared my throat. “We can talk now, if you want to.”

There was a pause on the other end. I could almost picture her—biting her lip, weighing the risk.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said suddenly.

“What?”

“That I slept with you. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. Or that I’m choosing you. It was a moment. A very emotional, very intense moment, but it doesn’t mean I’m yours again.”

I winced. “Understood. Loud and clear. I… I’m sorry. For proposing like that afterward. That was stupid. And unromantic.”

“Kind of like the first time you proposed?” Her voice had an edge of dry amusement. “Because that was even worse.”

I groaned. “Yes. That too.”

“Do you even possess a romantic bone in your body, Derek King?”

A laugh escaped me—low and reluctant. “I might. Deep, deep down. Somewhere in my left pinky toe.”

“Not reassuring,” she muttered, but I could hear the faint smile in her tone.

“Would you…” I hesitated. “Would you be interested in my trying to see if I do? Proving that I could do it?”

Silence stretched.

My heart thudded like a war drum. Why had I said that? She was going to hang up. I’d pushed too far.

Then, finally:

“I’m willing to let you try to prove that you’ve changed.”

The words landed like a bolt of lightning straight to the chest.

“Yeah?” I said, almost breathless.

“But you need to slow down. I mean it. No more proposals, no sudden declarations, no sweeping assumptions. We take this slow. Once bitten, twice shy—and I’ve been bitten more than once.”

“I can do slow,” I said, voice rough. “I want to do slow. If that’s what you need.”

“Good,” she said. “Because if you screw this up, there won’t be a third time.”

We hung up not long after that. The call was brief. Tense. Awkward. But it ended with something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

I set the phone down and sat in stunned silence.

She was going to let me court her.

Not as her mate. Not as the father of her child. Not as the Alpha of Silverclaw.

Just as a man trying to become someone worthy of a second chance.

A slow, real chance.

A crooked smile tugged at my lips.

And I was going to make damn sure I didn’t waste it