Page 71 of To Carve A Wolf

“He’s safe,” he said. “Back at the citadel. I left him with two of the best maids in the keep. Ones who’ve raised noble brats before—they know what they’re doing. I gave clear orders: no one touches the human boy. No threats, no punishment, no manipulation. Anyone so much as looks at him wrong answers to me.”

Relief flooded my chest, cold and sharp, followed by something warmer.

“Garrick wanted to bring him,” he admitted. “So did I. But I didn’t know what state I’d find you in. If your runes were gone. If you were feral. If you even recognized me. I couldn’t risk him being in the middle of that.”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t even thought about it from that angle. I was too used to thinking of Andros as dangerous—to me, to others—but not… careful.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Andros shrugged like it was nothing, but the way he looked at me then…it wasn’t nothing.

CHAPTER 22

Andros

I left Lexa soaking in the bath, the steam filling the small room behind me as I stepped outside into the chill morning air. The snow had finally settled into something manageable, softening the world instead of burying it. Sunlight broke weakly through thin clouds, promising warmth that hadn’t quite reached us yet.

The outpost had come alive again after the storm. Men moved between the wooden buildings, checking supplies, repairing fences. This was the last outpost before the Citadel, our northernmost line of defense and observation. It felt good to have something tangible, routine. A quiet anchor after everything that had happened in that cave.

Garrick stood near the central hearth, barking orders and gesturing toward damaged crates. When he saw me, his face broke into a crooked grin.

“So,” he said, stepping close and shoving a goblet of wine into my hand, “the storm clears, and our fearless Alpha emerges at last. Good to see you alive. We were placing bets on whether the little omega had finally torn out your throat.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a long drink. It was rougher wine than the Citadel cellars held, but it warmed me all the same. Garrick stared at me, his gaze shifting with sudden, keen interest to the fresh bite mark on my neck. His grin sharpened.

“Well, fuck me sideways,” he chuckled. “She didn’t kill you, but she certainly left her mark.”

I growled softly, but there was no bite behind it. “Careful, Garrick.”

He raised an eyebrow, entirely unrepentant. “So, what exactly are your intentions with the stray now that she’s sunk her teeth into you? Planning to chain her to your throne?”

“Actually,” I said casually, swirling the wine in my goblet, “I was thinking of writing a new law. Anyone who calls Lexa a stray gets twenty lashes in the market square.”

Garrick barked out a laugh, shaking his head, amused. “Gods, the things that girl has done to you, Andros.”

He sobered after a moment, glancing toward the distant horizon. “Speaking of storms, got word earlier, a small avalanche hit Elm’s Ridge last night. They reported damage to some buildings, but no lives lost, luckily.”

I nodded thoughtfully. Elm’s Ridge was a small settlement, resilient but isolated enough that even minor disasters could turn serious quickly. “Send extra supplies and a few men,” I ordered. “Make sure they’re secure until repairs are finished.”

“Already done,” Garrick said smoothly. Then he cast me a sidelong look, expression turning serious. “So, this thing with Lexa, is it…settled?”

I took another slow sip, considering. Settled wasn’t the word. Nothing with Lexa was settled. It was wild, uncertain,dangerous. But it was also undeniably right. A bond that had grown into something deeper than instinct or obligation.

“As settled as things ever get around her,” I finally replied.

He smiled slightly, something knowing and warm in the way he looked at me. “You know, the men here were whispering about it already—the Alpha and his mysterious omega from the south. Some of them think you’re losing your mind. Others think you might finally have found it.”

“Maybe both,” I admitted quietly.

Garrick clapped a hand on my shoulder, the familiar heavy strength of a loyal friend. “Well, whatever it is, it suits you. Just do us a favor—warn us next time before you drag us all through hell searching for her again.”

“Deal,” I murmured, smiling faintly.

He chuckled, glancing back toward the outpost buildings. “You should probably get back. Before your omega decides to carve another hole in the wall and escape again.”

I rolled my eyes again, hiding my smile behind the goblet. “Not this time,” I said quietly. “This time, she stays.”

I returned to the room quietly, expecting to find Lexa awake and restless. Instead, she was stretched out on her stomach, sleeping deeply, her breathing slow and steady. Her damp hair spilled like ink across the pillows, the soft rise and fall of her back strangely peaceful. The exhaustion of her heat cycle had finally caught up to her, leaving her utterly drained.

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