Chapter 259 ROWAN
The yard was nearly empty that morning, with only worn paths throwing life across sparring dummies. Muscles aflame, strike after strike against this single target all courting frustration. And resounding in my head, echoes of words: Alina screaming into the phone, "You deserve to be seen." And did I?
I had never clenched my fists more strongly, my breathing deep as doubt impregnated my heart. As hard as I could, it would never be enough. No more for the pack, but for my sake.
It wasn’t until later, outside in the gardens, that I first saw Aurora on her knees among the herbs, plucking leaves with an ease of motion as she set them in a small basket. Relaxed, her movements unhurried, yet precise. For one moment, I somehow felt the thought of disturbing her. It was the weight against my chest, however, that urged me onward.
“Can we talk?” I tried to sound neutral, which was in high contrast with the storm inside.
Finally, Aurora lifted her head, and her face was warm but inquiring. “Of course,” she said, laying the basket on the floor and smoothing her hands against her skirt. “What’s bothering you?"
I panted again, fighting to push the words out. “I’ve tried so hard, proving myself for you and for the pack. But apparently that will never be enough.”
The furrow of her brow, the slight cock of her head. “Rowan, what makes you think you have to prove anything at all?”
Soft words, but they cut deeper than I bargained for, through the walls I worked so hard to keep up. Words left my head before one could catch and hold them in.
“I just… I see the way people look at you and Dane. You’re strong, respected—all those things that a leader’s supposed to be. And then there’s me, always trying and always falling short. And sometimes, well, it just feels like I will never be good enough.” Aurora’s face gentled, but she said nothing. She listened.
“It’s not just being part of the pack,” I exclaimed, my voice rising into despair. “I gave all the confessions I could give, you guys weren’t able to get Alina because she’s too smart—I told you that. I thought I would be forgiven and have the confidence of everyone again, the feeling of being part of the gang, something worthy, and sometimes I don’t know if I am.”
Aurora leaned in closer, her eyes level, unyielding. “Rowan, your worth is not defined by what you feel like you have to prove to people. You don’t have to be in competition with anyone—not with me, nor Dane, not even with any other member of the pack.”
Soft words, firm, like a blade slicing through my self-doubt.
“But how can I stop?” I said out loud, stuttering. “How to stop this feeling that I am left behind and always will be?"
My shoulder accepted the weight of Aurora’s frail hand as she exhaled a soft sigh. “Rowan, you need to find your way in life. Your worth does not come from what you may think others may expect of you; it’s from who you are and what you contribute to the pack. And trust me, that is far more than you know."
I scanned her face for a hint of deceit, but in them, I found loads of honesty and compassion. “I don’t even know where to start,” I sighed.
“Start with you,” she said rather matter-of-factly. “Find yourself out of this pressure; the rest shall fall in place."
She stirred in me a place I didn’t even know was there, and lighter, yet heavier, suddenly I watched her take her basket in easy motions that seemed to act out a sign that the time ahead for me went ahead.
“Thanks,” I muttered. I doubt she even heard me.
Smiling now, turning to me, Aurora lit up her eyes while all the rest of her face wore an almost sad aspect. “You are a far stronger person than you know, Rowan. Try to remember this."
But in reality, what really stuck with me was this weird sense of hope and unease. She gave me something to hold onto, but the doubts tugged hard just as well.
I swung back toward the grounds, ready to lose myself in even more drills, when a figure snapped into sharp focus from the back: Alina. She leaned against a tree, her face unpredictable while she watched me. In an instant, our eyes met. A shiver ran down my spine. What was she playing at now?
I turned toward the exit, the vision of Alina lingering in my mind—a specter that had appeared not scared and not giving any hint as to what she was after.
Whatever game she was playing, I had the sinking feeling I was about to be dragged into it, kicking and screaming. My skin crawled from the way her gaze clung to me like some itch I couldn’t scratch, hanging with each second longer than the one before it wanted to be, crawling up my skin, and there it still was when I walked back toward the training grounds.
She was gone by the time I turned to see if she was still there. Still, it did not make me feel any better. Alina didn’t do things for no reason; she always had something in mind, some kind of plan. Whatever that was this time, I just could not shake that feeling somehow I was involved.
The afternoon dragged on, and all my mind could cling to was what Aurora had said: “Figure out who you are outside of all this pressure.” Yeah, because that isn’t some giant umbrella statement or anything. I tried to throw myself back into training. After all, hopefully, physical exhaustion would drown out the noise inside my head. But the drills seemed dead to me now; I went through the motions.
After a while, I stopped, sat down on the edge of the exercise field, laid my head on my hands, and just lay there.
“How’s your day been?”
I was startled by the sudden sound of her voice. She stood a few feet away from me, her head tilted slightly to one side, the corner of her mouth pulled into a light smirk.
“What?” I returned gruffly, or rather, more abrupt than I actually intended.
She shrugged and approached by a single step. “Just checking up on you,” she replied in a soft tone. “You did appear to be like you needed someone with you.”
I looked at her more closely then. “I am fine.”
Alina raised one perfect eyebrow, about as impressed as I was by my attempt to blow her off. “You don’t look fine,” she said. “You look like someone who’s trying very hard to convince himself he’s fine.”
A bit too close to home, but I wasn’t going to let that show. “I don’t need your help, Alina.”
“No,” she said, bending down beside me with no invitation. “But maybe what you need is for someone to hear you. Or maybe you just want someone who’ll understand what it’s like to have no one pay attention.”
Her voice was softer than the tone to which I was accustomed; there was a sympathetic edge almost. It unnerved me. Despite myself, my shoulders dropped just a degree.
“What do you mean?” I said coolly.
Alina leaned back, her hands falling behind her onto the grass. “You think you are the only one who has ever felt like they do not quite fit in, that no matter what you do it is never enough?"
I said nothing, too tangled in my web of emotions to know just how to act. Part of me wanted to push her away, while another part was tired of being so alone and wanted to hear her out again.
“Everybody thinks I’m the troublemaker,” she said, turning away to the sky.
“The one who stirs the pot, who doesn’t play by the rules. But do you know why I do it?”
I said nothing. She didn’t seem to expect me to.
“Because it’s the only way people notice me,” she said quieter now. “If I follow the rules, I’m invisible. But if I break them? Suddenly, everyone pays attention.”
I frowned, her words hitting a nerve. “That’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” she returned, whirling toward me. “You’ve been trying so hard to prove yourself to Aurora, to the pack, but has it worked? Or do they still see you as the kid who can’t quite measure up?”
The words sliced, but I couldn’t deny the truth of them.
“I’m not like you,” I said finally, my voice sure.
“No,” Alina said, a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re not. But maybe that’s your problem."
She stood then, brushing the grass off her hands. “Think about it, Rowan. Maybe the person you’re trying to be isn’t who you’re meant to be.”
I watched her walk away, her words settling in my mind like stones sinking into water.
I had lain in bed all night, staring at the ceiling and unable to get Alina’s visit out of my mind. She had opened this door, and I was not so sure I wanted to walk through it. Could she be right? Had I been chasing some version of myself which did not exist, fitting into a mold and shape that were never meant for me? But if I wasn’t who I thought I was, then who was I?