Page 63 of Pistols & Peonies

I grit my teeth, clamping down hard on the urge to lash out. To grab her by the throat and force her to understand how things are now. Instead, I lock my eyes on the road, my hands clenched so tight around the steering wheel it’s a miracle the thing doesn’t crack under the pressure.

We ride in silence for a few exits, the city sliding past in blurred streaks of concrete and steel. The bond hums in my chest, a low, restless ache that can’t decide whether it wants to fight or fuck. My wolf doesn’t like being denied either.

“Why don’t you just leave again?” she says eventually, voice deliberately casual, eyes still fixed out the window. “Run back to your lake house and pretend I don’t exist. Problem solved.”

I glance over, taking in the rigid set of her shoulders, the way she’s folded in on herself like she’s bracing for impact. And I realize…

She’s not telling me to leave.

She’s asking me not to.

Quietly, carefully, like she already expects one answer and is desperate for another.

Though she’d never admit it out loud, she wants me to choose the bond. Choose her.

Part of me wishes I could. But that’d mean letting her inside the walls I’ve spent years fortifying, and that’s a risk I can’t afford. She’s volatile. Unpredictable. A variable I can’t control.

But I can’t walk away, either. Not anymore.

I exhale slowly through my nose and loosen my grip on the wheel. “You know that’s not how this works,” I murmur. “This bond needs proximity.”

“Then maybe we should go back to Dr. Aspen,” she suggests mildly. “See if he has ideas for getting our wolves under control. He is a professional…”

“He’s a quack,” I growl. “I don’t want him anywhere near this.”

“Why not? If he’s right about us being fated, then maybe–”

“I said no,” I cut in, tone flat and final.

She groans, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “Oh, come on. Did he really bruise your ego that badly by saying he’d go over your head to Alpha? Or do you just not want Alpha knowing the doc thinks we’re fated mates?”

She cuts herself off, suddenly quiet. I unclench my jaw, schooling my expression– but not fast enough.

Her head snaps toward me. “Holy shit. You don’t want him to know,” she breathes, eyes bright with realization. “Why? Do you think Dr. Aspen’s right? That we’re fated?”

I keep my gaze locked on the windshield. She’s too perceptive for her own damn good.

“They say fated bonds make wolves a hell of a lot stronger,” she muses, fitting the pieces together faster than I’d like. “So what, you think he’d feel threatened by it? I mean, it’s his own damn fault. He’s the one who put us together.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter, taking the exit ramp into downtown. “There’s an order to things. He’s the Alpha, and nothing’s changing that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

I roll to a stop at a red light and finally turn to look at her. “The problem is, our wolves have always been closely matched in terms of dominance,” I say calmly. “It’s never been an issue because mine knows his place. But if anything tips that balance, even the perception of it, he’ll see it as a threat. Keeping me in a position of rank would suddenly be a risk to him.”

“And fate forbid you lose your precious job,” she scoffs, spitting out the words like they’re sour on her tongue.

“My job means a great deal to me,” I reply simply.

“Oh, I know,” she clucks, rolling her eyes. “You just love licking Alpha’s boots.”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I growl.

She flips me off and turns away with a huff, glaring out the passenger window. The light changes, and I hit the gas a little too hard, coming close to kissing the bumper of the car in front of us before I rein it in.

“You’re young,” I say after a beat, keeping my eyes forward. “So maybe you don’t get it yet. But when you spend your whole life working toward something, you don’t just toss it aside. Holding rank gives me a purpose. It lets me protect people who matter.”

“And squash the ones who don’t,” she mumbles bitterly.