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29. Katya

Author: J. Tarr
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-04 20:13:30

I stand at the doorway of the cabin, arms crossed, watching Ruslan load the last of our bags into the SUV. The one that’s been parked in the garage for who knows how long, just sitting there waiting to be used.

I can’t believe I asked him to come with me. What was I thinking? But, despite the strangeness of it, I actually feel … relieved. Maybe even a little free.

My pack is gone. My title as Luna ripped away. Exile doesn’t exactly sound like freedom, but in a twisted way, it is. For the first time in a long time, I’m not responsible for anyone but myself. There’s no pack politics, no duties. No expectations.

It’s strange, really. I thought I’d be more devastated, but instead, I feel like I can breathe for the first time.

Ruslan shuts the trunk with a loud thud, dusting off his hands. He glances over at me, his face neutral but his eyes flicker with something, maybe curiosity.

“So,” he says, wiping sweat off his brow, “where to?”

The question throws me off for a second. Where to? Th
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Comments (2)
goodnovel comment avatar
A. D. R.
I love this! And the fact they are both from Russia - it’s weird how life changes things and they could have both been there and been happy as mates. But the moon goddess found a way to bring them back to each other.
goodnovel comment avatar
Nicky Esparon
Happy for them. They can live a normal life. I think the baby she is carrying will want to take the pack back when it’s of age. Thanks for the chapter
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  • Between Hate and Fate   58. Ruslan

    The hallway is quiet as I step out of the room, leaving Katya and our daughter asleep. The soft sounds of their breathing trail after me, steadying the chaos in my chest as I close the door behind me. For a moment, I lean back against the wood, exhaling heavily. They’re safe. They’re mine. But the weight of everything still presses down like a goddamn anvil.I head toward Anatoly’s office, my feet carrying me on autopilot. The packhouse is mostly silent at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes after a storm. My hand raps against the heavy door before I step in without waiting for an answer. Anatoly’s sitting behind his desk, a bottle of whiskey already out and two glasses waiting. Typical. He looks up and grins.“Took you long enough,” he says, getting to his feet. His arms are open as he steps around the desk, and before I can dodge, he pulls me into a quick, firm hug. “Congratulations, old friend.”I grunt, patting his back awkwardly. “Yeah, thanks. Don’t make this weird.”“

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