Page 107 of Marking Mia

“Kane,” she whispers.

I drink in the sight of her, cataloging every detail like a man dying of thirst. Her hair is tangled and unwashed. Her lips are chapped from dehydration. Her beautiful hazel eyes,which have haunted my dreams for two endless nights, are bloodshot and swollen from crying.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She doesn’t slam the door, scream, curse, or send us away. But she doesn’t move aside either; she doesn’t invite us in. She simply stands there, staring at me with an intensity that makes my soul quake, the bond between us humming with recognition, need, and things too profound for words.

Time stops. I could stand here forever, just looking at her, just breathing the same air. If this is all she’ll give me, it’s more than I deserve—more than enough to sustain the starving wolf inside me, at least for now.

“I’m sorry, Mia,” I finally say, the words inadequate, but all I have to offer. “I’m so sorry.”

Her chest heaves with a sharp intake of breath. Her fingers tighten on the door frame, knuckles white. Something shifts in her eyes, the anger giving way to naked pain, to a need that mirrors my own. Without a word, she steps forward, closing the distance between us in two small steps. Her forehead presses against my chest, and the contact, simple as it is, sends a shock wave through my system.

My arms remain at my sides, afraid to move, afraid to shatter this fragile moment.

“Mia,” I breathe her name.

She doesn’t respond with words. Instead, her arms slide around my waist, her body trembling against mine. I feel her tears soaking through my shirt, her fingers clutching at the fabric as if afraid I’ll disappear. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, I wrap my arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other spanning her lower back.

She fits against me perfectly, like she was made to be held by me. The hollow ache that’s been consuming me for two days eases slightly, my wolf settling at the simple comfort ofhaving her in my arms again. I press my face into her hair, inhaling her scent, letting it fill the empty spaces inside me.

We stand like that for what could be minutes or hours, neither of us speaking, just holding on as if the world might end if we let go. Finn and Jace remain silent, giving us this moment, though I can feel their presence—their relief and their own need to touch her, to reassure themselves that she’s real and safe and here.

“I missed you so much,” Mia finally whispers against my chest, her voice broken and raw. “It hurts. I never knew it could hurt like this.”

My arms tighten around her, protective and possessive.

“It’s the bond,” I explain softly, my lips brushing her temple. “Once you’ve been marked by the pack, it’s forever. Our wolves recognize and need each other. The separation causes physical pain.”

She pulls back just enough to look up at me, tears still streaking her cheeks. “Is that why it feels like I’m dying? Like someone tore out a piece of me?”

I nod, brushing a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “Yes. What we share isn’t just emotional. It’s primal. Cellular. After marking you, our DNA has been rewritten to recognize each other as bound—one unit. One pack.”

“I tried to hate you,” she admits, her fingers curling into my shirt. “For lying to me. For keeping secrets. For making decisions for me. I wanted to hate you.”

“But you couldn’t,” I finish for her, understanding completely. “Just like I can’t hate you for leaving, even though it’s been tearing me apart.”

She nods, fresh tears spilling. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About all of you.” Her gaze shifts briefly to Finn and Jace, acknowledging their presence. “It’s like my body doesn’t understand why I left, even if my mind knows the reasons.”

“Your body knows where it belongs,” I tell her. “With us. With your pack.”

She doesn’t agree immediately, and I don’t press. Instead, I hold her, breathing in her scent, feeling her heartbeat gradually sync with mine. The bond hums between us, satisfied by the physical contact, even as our words remain uncertain and our future unresolved.

“I can’t go back to how things were,” she finally says, her voice stronger now. “I won’t be kept in the dark. I won’t have decisions made for me.”

“I know,” I agree immediately. “I was wrong. We were wrong. You deserve better from us.”

Mia nods, some decision settling behind her eyes. She steps back, breaking our embrace but not moving away completely.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asks cautiously.

Relief floods through me so intensely that my knees nearly buckle.

“Yes,” I manage, my voice rough. “We’d like that very much.”

thirty-four

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