บท 20: Chapter 20 - A silent whisper

The water enveloped Río like a comforting blanket, but he couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that clung to him. As he floated beneath the surface, he thought of the look in Ezra's eyes during their encounter at school—confusion mingled with guilt. Would it ever be enough? Would they ever see each other as anything more than rivals?

He surfaced, gasping for air, droplets cascading off his body. He watched the moon's reflection shimmer across the water, the only witness to his secrets and desires. His wolf stirred restlessly inside him, sensing the turmoil of emotions that churned like a storm.

The night air was crisp and quiet, interrupted only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures. It was a rare moment of peace for Río, one he savored despite the pain in his chest. He wished he could share this place with someone, to let them see the beauty in solitude. But the thought of showing anyone his secret haunt felt impossible.

As he swam to the shore, he pulled himself out of the water, droplets cascading down his toned physique. He paused, glancing at his reflection in the water—a wolf caught between two worlds. A part of him longed for acceptance, yet another part recoiled from it, fearing the vulnerability it would bring.

"Why can't it be different?" he whispered to the night, anger lacing his words. "Why can't I just be… enough?"

He threw his clothes back on, the damp fabric clinging to his skin, reminding him of his isolation. Every day was a battle—a fight for respect, a struggle for identity. He remembered his father's harsh words, the weight of expectations pressing down on him. And then there was Ezra, with his effortless charm and laughter, drawing everyone in like a moth to a flame.

Río couldn't help but wonder if that was what it meant to be loved. He remembered the laughter echoing from Ezra's home, the warmth that radiated from him. It was a stark contrast to the coldness he had grown up with, a stark contrast to the loneliness that suffocated him every day.

The thought of confronting Ezra again made his heart race—was he ready for that? He didn't want to appear weak, yet he felt the need to understand the boy who had unknowingly become the center of his chaos.

Río headed back through the woods, his thoughts swirling as he made his way toward his home. As he walked, he tried to shake off the nagging feeling that had settled in his gut—the persistent ache of longing. Would they always remain enemies? Could there ever be a chance for something more between them?

He pushed through the door of his house, the familiar scent of damp wood and stale air greeting him. His father's low growl echoed through the hall. "You're late," he said, his voice dripping with irritation.

Río met his gaze, the unyielding disappointment reflected in his father's eyes. "I was out for a run," he lied, unwilling to share the truth of where he had been.

"Next time, don't let me catch you slacking off. We have a reputation to uphold," his father snapped before retreating to his study, leaving Río feeling more isolated than ever.

His pack had no respect for him, and the pressure only grew heavier. It was suffocating, and the weight of expectation pressed down on him like a physical entity. He headed to his room, shutting the door behind him, the silence wrapping around him like a comforting embrace.

He sat on the edge of his bed, the lingering feelings from earlier creeping back in. The image of Ezra, carefree and unburdened, invaded his mind again, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Why couldn't he experience that kind of acceptance?

Río buried his face in his hands, feeling the tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He hated feeling vulnerable, hated that he couldn't control these emotions. His wolf growled within him, demanding release, and he could almost feel the weight of his animal instinct pressing against the chains of human emotion.

Just as he was about to succumb to despair, his phone buzzed on the bedside table, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a message from one of his pack members, demanding a meeting to discuss the ongoing tension between their packs.

Río groaned, tossing his phone aside. He couldn't face another confrontation, especially not one that would involve Ezra. He knew the pack's fury wouldn't be satisfied until blood was spilled, and that thought terrified him.

With a heavy heart, he lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't want to be part of a war.

The night deepened outside his window, the stars twinkling in the dark sky, and all he could think about was how utterly alone he felt.

"Ezra," he murmured, the name slipping from his lips like a prayer. He closed his eyes, wishing for a different life, a life where they could exist without conflict, without pain. But deep down, he knew that wish was nothing more than a fleeting dream, one that seemed further out of reach with each passing day.

And as sleep began to claim him, he couldn't shake the feeling that their paths were destined to intertwine, whether he wanted them to or not.