Chapter 11: Ewan's POV

Ewan's POV

I carried her into the cabin because she was shaking too hard to walk.

She told me to put her down, and I set her in the chair by the stove.

Then I stood there and didn't know what to do with my hands.

I had imagined this for three years.

In every version she looked at me with hate.

None of them had her sitting in my one good chair in a ruined dress with frost in her hair.

None of them had her looking at me with trust.

I built the fire up.

It gave me something to look at.

"Say it again," she said behind me.

"Say what?"

"What you said in the yard."

"You're my mate."

The log in my hand went down into the flames a lot harder than it needed to.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she said. "Before. Anytime."

"I told Rafe. He was the Alpha's heir, and he had the elders behind him.

"He had you smiling at him over breakfast.

"If I had said it to you at twenty, you'd have chosen the man you thought was destined and thought I'd lost my mind."

"You don't know that."

"I do," I said. "I know a Hartwell girl who thought her whole family had decided who she belonged to."

"That's not fair."

"No."

"I was twenty."

"I know."

I turned around.

She had stood up, and she was looking at me with those gray eyes, and her wolf was right there behind them, white and waiting.

"And now?" Briony said.

"You're going to tell me I have a pack to run and a seat to take.

"You're going to say you're just an exile with a cabin, so I should go back and do the right thing."

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