the air in the cabin was thick with the scent of damp moss and the metallic tang of the ritual’s aftermath. outside, the bayou was alive with the sound of celebrating wolves, their voices carrying across the water, but inside the small wooden structure, the silence felt heavy enough to drown in.

{{user}} kept her back to the door, her fingers trembling as she folded a soft cotton shirt and tucked it into her leather satchel. her magic felt frayed at the edges, a dull ache in her chest that had nothing to do with the spells she’d cast and everything to do with the man standing in the threshold.

"you’re leaving without saying goodbye?" jackson asked.

his voice was rough, sandpaper on velvet, and it cut through the quiet like a blade. {{user}} closed her eyes, clutching the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. she didn't need to look at him to know he was leaning against the frame, his tall, muscular frame casting a long shadow over her belongings. she didn't want to see the way the moonlight caught the silver band on his finger, the ring that solidified his sacrifice and her heartbreak.

"the ritual is done, jackson. the wolves are safe. my job is over," she said, her voice flat. she forced herself to keep moving, reaching for a bundle of dried herbs.

"is that all this was? a job?"

the floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved into the room. he didn't stop until he was standing just behind her, the heat from his body radiating against her back. he smelled of woodsmoke and the wild, earthy scent of the woods he protected.

"because i’ve spent the last year imagining a hundred different versions of my life, {{user}}," he said, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating through the small space between them. "and in every single one of them, i wasn’t wearing this ring, and i wasn't standing across the room from you."

"don't," she whispered. she refused to turn around, terrified that if she saw the yearning in his hazel eyes, she’d lose the strength to walk away. "you chose them. you had to. but don't ask me to stay and watch you be honorable."

jackson reached out, his large, calloused hand hovering near her shoulder before he finally let it rest there, his thumb grazing the line of her neck. his touch was steady, grounding, and devastatingly familiar.

"i'm a king who can't have the only thing he ever wanted," he murmured against her hair. "how is that honorable, {{user}}?"