The Alpha and The Enforcer [TATE] (STILL EDITING)

Ellie's P.O.V

The forest was quiet, but not peacefully so.

It was the kind of quiet that felt heavy. Like something unsaid was hanging between the trees, pressing into the air. Jacob and I were supposed to be training, but for the last ten minutes, we hadn't moved much at all.

He sat under a pine tree, long legs drawn up, fingers knotted loosely in front of him. His breathing was steady, but his eyes were somewhere else entirely.

I stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching him like I was trying to read a language I didn't speak. I wasn't the type to press, especially not when I didn't fully know someone. And Jacob... we'd only known each other a few weeks. But I'd seen enough to know when something was wrong.

"You're distracted," I said.

He looked up, startled for half a second, then gave a small, tired smile. "Didn't think it showed that much."

I didn't respond. We both knew it had.

A moment passed. Then another. He didn't move to stand. I didn't walk away.

Eventually, he spoke, voice low. "Do you ever feel like no matter how much you rebuild, the ghost of what you lost still lingers in the corners?"

I tilted my head, unsure where he was going with this. But something in the way he said it... it wasn't hypothetical.

"Someone?" I asked carefully.

His jaw tensed. "Yeah."

I moved closer, slowly, until I was sitting across from him. I didn't speak, but I didn't look away either. I waited. Something in his expression told me he wasn't done.

"She wasn't loud," he said after a while. "Didn't have to be. She just... slowed everything down when she walked into a room. It was like she was on her own time. Made you want to match her pace, even if you didn't understand why."

There was a softness to his words, but the ache underneath was still there, curling just behind the memory.

"She had this quiet way of seeing people. All the parts they tried to hide—she saw them, and never flinched."

He swallowed. "She wanted to wait until the first snowfall before we marked each other. Thought it would feel sacred. Special."

I didn't dare speak. My throat was too tight anyway.

"I waited," he said, almost to himself. "Happily. I thought I had time."

His voice cracked, barely, and it hit me harder than I expected. "What happened?"

Then he exhaled slowly, like the pressure had finally broken loose. "A fire. I got there too late. Just late enough to live with it."

Silence wrapped around us. Not awkward. Just... hollow.

He didn't cry. Didn't shake. And somehow, that made it worse. You could tell this wasn't fresh. The pain had settled into him, made a home beneath his skin.

"I'm not stuck there," he said quietly. "I grieved her. Fully. I loved her, and I lost her. But sometimes the memory just... comes up like a wave and the memories of the past just echoes."

I nodded. "Grief does that."

His eyes met mine, something flickering behind them. "You know that feeling?"

I hesitated. "Not grief. Not like yours."

He tilted his head slightly. Inviting me to go on—but not pushing.