Page 104 of Marking Mia

The room falls silent, the weight of my admission settling over us like a shadow. I know what Finn is thinking—that I’m no better than the controlling human she fled from, that I’m proving her fears correct. But he doesn’t understand. He can’t grasp the primal, visceral agony of having my pregnant mate out of my protection. My wolf can barely think through the howling need to find her, to scent her, to ensure she’s safe.

“She’ll contact us,” Finn says after a long moment. “She’s bonded to us, whether she knows it or not. When she’s processed everything, she’ll call. This isn’t the end, Kane.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he insists, surprising me with the certainty in his voice. “What we have with her is not something she can just walk away from. The bond doesn’t work that way. She’s angry, hurt, feeling betrayed. But she’ll come back.”

“We give her the space she’s asking for, but we keep her safe from a distance. We prove that we can respect her choice while still protecting her,” Jace adds.

I nod slowly. “Find her,” I tell Jace, trying to keep the desperation from my voice. “Make sure she’s safe. But don’t let her see you unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I’ll leave now,” Jace promises. “I’ll check transportation hubs first—bus stations, the train, the airport.”

“Take this,” I say, pulling a credit card from my wallet. “Book whatever flights, rooms, or cars you need. Just find her.”

Jace takes the card with a nod, his expression unusually solemn. “I will. And Kane... she’ll be okay. She’s stronger than you think.”

After Jace leaves, the bedroom feels even emptier, the silence pressing in from all sides. Finn watches me with those knowing green eyes, seeing too much, understanding too much.

“She won’t come back if you force her,” he says quietly. “You know that, right? She’ll only return if she chooses to. If she believes she has a real choice.”

“And what if she chooses not to return?” I say. “What if she decides to raise my pup away from me? Away from us? Without the protection of the pack?”

Finn’s jaw tightens, the only sign that this possibility affects him too. “Then we adapt. We find a way to ensure her safety without compromising her autonomy. We become whatever she needs us to be.”

I turn away, unable to bear the rational calm on his face while I’m being torn apart from the inside. My wolf still howls for action, for the hunt, for reclaiming what’s ours.

If I force her to return, I’ll lose her forever. If I track her down and drag her back to the den, I’ll prove every fear she expressed in that message correct.

“I can’t lose her,” I admit, the words barely a whisper. “I can’t lose either of them.”

Finn’s hand lands on my shoulder, a rare gesture ofcomfort from my most serious packmate. “This isn’t the end, Kane. I’m not giving up until she tells us to our faces that she wants nothing more to do with us.”

I nod, clinging to this sliver of hope despite the emptiness gnawing at my core. Finn is right—the bond between us isn’t easily broken. She’ll feel the pull just as I do, the hollow ache of separation that will only grow with time.

thirty-three

. . .

Mia

The pain wakes me again. It’s physical, a hollowness behind my ribs that aches as if someone has carved out my heart. I curl tighter around myself in Alice’s spare bed, pressing a fist against my sternum as though I could push the agony back inside and contain it somehow.

It doesn’t work. Nothing works. Two days without Kane, without Finn, without Jace, and I’m falling apart.

I bite down on the pillow to muffle my sobs. Alice left for her shift at the coffee shop hours ago. My tears soak into the cotton pillowcase, hot and endless. They’ve barely stopped since I arrived here two nights ago, shaking and disoriented.

“Oh my god, Mia,” Alice had gasped when she opened her door at 4 AM to find me standing there on her doorstep. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

She’d assumed it was Justin. Of course, she had. She’d seen the bruises he left on my wrists last year and had covered my shifts when my eyes were too puffy from crying to face customers.

“I left him,” I’d whispered, and she’d pulled me inside,wrapped me in a blanket, and made me tea that I couldn’t drink through my hiccupping sobs.

“You can stay as long as you need,” she’d promised, settling me on her couch, not pressing for details when I couldn’t provide them. “I’m so proud of you for getting away.”

If only she knew who I’d really left behind: three men who loved me.

But now, two days later, a fresh wave of agony ripples through me, centering low in my belly where Kane’s child grows. Our child. I press my palm flat against my abdomen, wondering if it can feel my turmoil.

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