The Gamma's Choice

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Crisp air fills my lungs as I step into the heart of the village, the only home that I’ve known in my eighteen years of life. My feet know the rhythm of the worn paths that wind between the wooden structures, each one humming with the life of my pack.

"Alpha Red," I call out, spotting the broad-shouldered figure standing in front of the council hall, his crimson cloak a stark contrast against the muted browns and greens of our surroundings.

"Ah, Ava," he greets, his voice carrying the weight of his role. "How are you feeling?"

"Stronger," I admit, though it's more than physical strength that pulses within me now. "But it’s the healing... It came to me in the midst of battle, like a force I couldn't control."

"Control will come with time and practice," Red assures, his gaze assessing. "Such abilities are rare, especially among warriors. You have been given a gift."

I nod, though uncertainty knots in my stomach. To heal is to hold power over life itself, and such power terrifies me as much as it thrills. The Alpha seems to sense my inner turmoil, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

"Your spirit is strong, Ava," he says, conviction burning in his eyes. "You will master this gift."

Before I can respond, a familiar voice rolls over me like a wave, pulling me under with its deep, warm timbre.

"Master it? No doubt she will," Kyle says, stepping from the shadow of a nearby oak. His brown hair catches the sunlight, framing his face in a soft golden glow. His brown eyes, once so familiar, now hold stories untold.

"Kyle." His name comes out breathless, betraying the flutter in my chest.

His lips curve into a lopsided smile, the way they always did when we were kids playing in the forest. "Look at you, Ava," he says, closing the space between us with easy strides. "Strong, beautiful, and now with magic flowing through your veins."

Heat crawls up my cheeks, but I stand tall, meeting his gaze. "I had good teachers," I reply, thinking of all the times we sparred, learned, and grew together before he vanished.

"Still modest," he teases, his eyes alight with something that makes my heart race. "But I'm serious. I'm proud of the wolf you've become. You're not just a warrior; you're a protector in more ways than one."

"Thank you, Kyle," I say, the words barely a whisper. Our history, thick with unspoken words and unshed tears, wraps around us—a cocoon from which neither of us has emerged unchanged.

"Come on," he says, gesturing toward the edge of the clearing. "There's much to catch up on, and I'd rather not have an audience."

I glance back at Red, who nods once, releasing me from the conversation. As I follow Kyle, the pull between us is magnetic, undeniable. But beneath the surface simmers a question, a wound five years in the making that begs to be reopened. Yet for now, I let myself get swept up in the moment—the return of my past and the promise of my future colliding under the watchful sky.

Stepping beyond the edge of the clearing, I catch the faint scent of pine and damp earth. The village sounds fade, replaced by the rhythmic thrumming of my own heartbeat. Kyle leads the way, his strides confident, yet there's a hesitance in the set of his shoulders—an echo of the same uncertainty that churns in my gut.

"Kyle," I call out, sharper than intended. He halts, turns. The light filters through the trees, casting his features in a soft glow. Those brown eyes that once promised safety now hold secrets.

"Where have you been?" My voice cracks like thin ice beneath heavy paws. The question has clawed inside me, a relentless beast, since the day he left without a word.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, a familiar gesture that stokes the embers of old feelings. "Ava, it's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it," I demand, stepping closer. The air between us is charged, electric with years of silent conversations and dreams deferred.

"Every day," he begins, his gaze searching mine, "every moment away from the pack, from you, was a battle."

"Against what?" I press, refusing to be swayed by the pull of his proximity. "You disappeared. No note, no sign... Did you ever think of us, of me?"

"Always." His admission is a whisper, but it strikes with the force of a roar. "I thought of you every damn day."

"Then why didn't you come back sooner?" My hands ball into fists, nails digging into my palms. The hurt, the anger, the sheer longing—it all claws its way to the surface.

"Because coming back meant putting everyone at risk," he says, his voice laced with an urgency that belies his calm exterior. "There were... things I had to deal with first. Threats that could have destroyed everything we care about."

"Threats?" I echo, skepticism sharpening my tone. "Or were you just avoiding your responsibilities, running away from what you couldn't face?"

He steps closer, close enough for me to feel his warmth, to see the pain etched deep in the lines of his face. "I was protecting the pack, Ava. Protecting you."

"By leaving me alone?" My heart pounds against my chest, a drumbeat of betrayal and confusion. "Do you know how hard it was to look at the empty space beside me at the fire every night, wondering if you were alive? If you'd ever return?"

"Nothing was harder than being away." His hands hover near my arms, as if he's fighting the urge to touch me, to bridge the gap time has carved between us. "But I had to ensure it was safe—"

"Safe?" I interrupt, raw emotion edging my voice. "Do you know how many times we needed you here? How many battles we fought tooth and claw without you?"

"Tell me," he pleads, a c***k in his stoic facade. "Tell me everything."

And suddenly, I want to. I want to pour out the fears, the losses, the victories that have shaped me in his absence. But more than that, I want to understand this wolf before me, who carries the weight of untold stories in his eyes.

But does he deserve that part of me? Does he even deserve to see an inch of my heart when he won’t give me one ounce of truth?

Spinning on my heel, I stalk away.

“Ava!” Kyle calls after me.

Even though I want to turn around, to throw myself into his arms and press my lips against his and receive the kiss we never got to share, I keep walking, because sometimes that’s just the easiest thing to do—which I guess he knows better than anyone.