Chapter 44

[ 746 words ]

It’s law

44: 44.

It’s law Barric

The forest is quieter than it should be.

That’s the first thing I notice.

Leaves crunch beneath my boots as I walk beside Aria, the scent of pine and damp earth thick in the air, but the usual rhythm of the pack—distant laughter, shifting paws, the low hum of life—feels far away.

It’s just us out here.

Just the steady beat of two hearts that are… tied together now, whether she’s ready for it or not.

She’s uneasy, my wolf murmurs, pacing beneath my skin.

“I know,” I mutter under my breath.

Aria glances at me.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, offering a small smile.

“Just thinking.”

But that’s not entirely true.

I’ve been thinking too much, actually.

About her.

About us.

About the way she looks like she belongs here and doesn’t all at once.

The bond between us hums faintly, a thread I can’t ignore.

It pulls at me, steady and constant, urging me closer, urging me to fix whatever tension lingers in her shoulders.

I exhale slowly.

There’s no avoiding it anymore.

“So…” I start, shoving my hands into my pockets as we step over a fallen branch.

“How are you feeling about all of this?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Her gaze stays forward, scanning the trees, like she’s hoping the answer might be written somewhere in the bark.

“About…?” she asks finally, though we both know exactly what I mean.

I huff a quiet laugh.

“Don’t do that. You know what I’m asking.”

She hesitates again.

Then she stops walking.

I take another step before realizing she isn’t beside me anymore.

Turning, I find her watching me, her arms wrapped loosely around herself.

“Do you want honesty?” she asks.

My wolf lifts its head, alert.

Always, it growls.

I nod.

“Always.”

She studies me for a long second, like she’s weighing whether I actually mean that.

Then she sighs.

“It feels like I’m two people,” she says.

The words hit harder than I expect.

I don’t interrupt.

“There’s… this part of me,” she continues, gesturing vaguely between us, “that feels it. The pull. The connection. It’s… physical. Instinctive. Like my body just—decided for me.”

My wolf rumbles in agreement.

Because it did.

“But then,” she adds, her voice quieter now, “there’s the rest of me. The part that thinks. Those questions. And that part…” She shakes her head slightly.

“That part feels like I don’t know any of you. Not really.”

Silence stretches between us.

The forest seems to hold its breath.

I drag a hand through my hair, letting her words settle.

Letting myself actually hear them instead of reacting.

Because she’s not wrong.

“I can see how that would be hard,” I say finally.

Her brows lift slightly, like she expected me to argue.

“I mean it,” I add.

“Human relationships… they’re different from ours. Completely different.”

She tilts her head.

“Different how?”

I shift my weight, leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree.

“For us, it’s simpler. Not easy—but simple. When a mate bond forms, that’s it. There’s no questioning whether it’s real or if it’ll last. It just… is.”

It’s law, my wolf adds.

“Most shifters don’t even bother getting serious with humans,” I continue.

“Not long-term.”

“Why?” she asks, though something in her expression tells me she already suspects the answer.

“Because of this,” I say, gesturing between us again.

“The mate bond.”

She watches me closely.

“It’s the biggest reason,” I admit.

“We know that if our true mate shows up someday, everything changes. And when that happens… whoever we’re with before that?” I shrug.

“They have to step aside.”

Her lips press together.

“So you just… avoid it?” she asks.

“Most do,” I say.

“Casual hookups.

Nothing too deep.

Nothing that would hurt too much when it ends.”

“And humans?”

I huff a quiet breath.

“Humans don’t work like that. They build something real. Something lasting. And when you ask them to step aside for something they don’t understand…” I shake my head.

“Some of them won’t. Some of them can’t.”

She looks down at the ground, nudging a small stone with her shoe.

“That sounds… messy.”

“It is,” I admit.

Silence falls again, heavier this time.

I can feel her thoughts turning, feel the tension in the bond as she wrestles with something deeper now.

Then she looks back up at me.

“How are you okay with it?” she asks.

“With what?”

“With giving your life to someone you don’t know.”

The question lands square in my chest.

My wolf stills.

For a moment, I don’t answer.

Not because I don’t have one—but because I want to give her the right one.

“The thing is,” I say slowly, “I do know you.”

Her brows knit together.

“You don’t.”

“My wolf does,” I correct.

At that, she goes quiet.

“He recognized you before I even had the chance to think about it,” I continue.

“And that matters. Because the bond—it’s not random. It’s not just chance. It means something.”

She is ours, my wolf insists, firm and unyielding.

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