CHAPTER 30 – Adam, Unfiltered
Hazel POV
Adam did not arrive quietly.
He never did.
I felt him before the shift—before Caleb's body even broke the tree line. The bond tightened sharp and deliberate, like fingers closing around a live wire.
Not Caleb's guilt.
Not his confusion.
This was cleaner.
Focused.
Intentional.
I straightened from where I sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over nothing, the world spread beneath me like a dark promise.
"You're not supposed to be here," I said.
Caleb's body stepped into the clearing anyway.
But the way he moved—slower, assured, unapologetic—told me everything.
Adam was driving.
"Relax," he said calmly. "I didn't break any of your rules."
I turned, eyes narrowing. "You took control."
"Yes," he said. No hesitation. "Deliberately."
That should have angered me.
Instead, my pulse kicked.
Adam stopped a few feet away. Didn't cross the space between us. Didn't challenge it. The restraint felt intentional—respectful in a way that made my skin prickle.
His gaze swept over me. Took in the tension. The sharp edges I hadn't bothered to soften.
"You look feral," he said. Then added, "Not unstable. Focused. Feisty even. The look suits you. You're sexy as hell."
"Don't," I warned.
"Don't what?" His tone stayed even with the tiniest flirtatiousness. "Acknowledge what I see?"
I scoffed. "You don't get special privileges just because you're not the one who betrayed me."
His expression shifted—not offended. Not defensive.
Honest.
"I'm not here for you to trust me," Adam said. "And I'm not here to be chosen."
That made me pause.
"I'm here because something's wrong," he continued. "And it isn't just between you and Caleb."
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
His eyes sharpened. Not on me—through me.
"Flora," he said.
The name hit like a misstep on loose stone.
My jaw tightened. "What about her?"
"She's been silent," Adam said flatly. "Not resting. More of withdrawn or..."
Gone.
The word echoed in my chest, unspoken but loud.
I looked away, staring into the dark. "I don't know what's happening to her."
Adam didn't interrupt.
"She hasn't spoken to me," I continued. "Not once. Not since Helene." My voice thinned despite my effort. "I thought maybe I shut her out too hard. Or maybe she's healing. Or maybe—"
"Or maybe something was taken from her," Adam finished quietly.
That made my chest ache.
I wrapped my arms around myself. "I don't feel her. Not like before. And that scares me more than losing Helene ever did. And that hurt like hell."
Adam stepped closer then. Still careful. Still controlled.
"Good," he said.
I blinked. "Good?"
"Yes." His voice was firm now. Grounded. "Because if you didn't notice, if you didn't care—that would mean she was already gone to you."
He studied my face.
"She isn't," he said with certainty. "And neither are you."
I swallowed hard.
"You're pushing yourself toward war," Adam went on. "Not because you're reckless—but because you're compensating."
"For what?"
"For loss you haven't named yet."
I laughed under my breath. "You've been reading my mind now too?"
"No," he said. "I've been watching you bleed quietly. And yes reading you mind a little."
That landed.
"And before you misunderstand me," he added, steady and unyielding, "this isn't about Caleb."
I looked back at him sharply.
"My loyalty is to Flora and you," Adam said. No apology in it. No shame. "She is my first bond. You're also my mate. I love the both of you but she's my responsibility. If she's destabilizing, so is everything tied to her."
Including me.
"I care about you," he continued. "Because she's part of you. Because you carry her. Because hurting you destabilizes her."
There it was.
Clean. Clear. Undeniable.
"But I will not cross lines anymore," he said. "And I will not replace anyone. Least of all Caleb."
I exhaled slowly.
He reached out—not to claim, not to comfort—but to ground. His fingers brushed my wrist, brief and deliberate.
Power hummed. Responsive. Watchful.
"You don't owe Caleb forgiveness," Adam said quietly. "And you don't owe him access."
His hand dropped.
"But you owe Flora honesty," he added. "And you owe yourself presence."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
"I don't know how to fix her," I admitted.
Adam's voice softened—just a fraction.
"You don't fix her," he said. "You survive. You stay. You don't disappear into vengeance so completely that she loses you too."
The bond shifted—not claiming. Not pulling.
Acknowledging.
Adam stepped back as control loosened, Caleb's presence beginning to bleed through again.
Before he fully relinquished, Adam met my eyes one last time.
"I'll watch her," he said. "From my side."
I nodded once.
"And Hazel," he added, quieter now, "don't confuse restraint for absence. She's still there."
Then he was gone.
Caleb remained—silent, distant, respectful.
I didn't look at him.
I sat back down on the cliff's edge, heart pounding, power restless beneath my skin.
For the first time since I left, the distance didn't feel empty.
It felt intentional.
And that scared me more than rage ever had.