CHAPTER 63: LOOK AT ME

Kaya

The sharp scent of wet leaves still clings to my clothes as we enter the pack’s indoor gym. I barely manage to catch my breath from Samantha’s warm-up routine when the rest of the group starts to scatter inside, already moving toward weights, benches, and the stretching mats. I linger in the doorway for a heartbeat too long.

Samantha, walking beside me, nudges my side playfully. "Don’t overthink it," she murmurs under her breath. "It’s just a gym. With a bit more people in it."

I nod absently, but my eyes are already moving—searching.

The transition is a bit too abrupt. One moment, we are on the training field with Magnus declaring that Cecilia would be joining us, and the next, we are all in the gym, a hum of movement and panting filling the air. The scent of steel and sweat clings to the space, but it isn’t that which draws my attention—it’s him.

Magnus.

He stands near the dumbbell rack, one hand lightly resting on Cecilia’s back as he adjusts her posture in a squat. She laughs at something he says, her eyes shining at him with unconcealed playfulness. He doesn’t smile back, but he doesn’t look annoyed either. Just... calm. Focused. Attentive. As usual.

My throat tightens unexpectedly.

I turn away quickly and head for the corner where some of the lighter machines stand. I don’t want to watch them anymore. I shouldn’t watch. And yet, even as I strap myself into a chest press machine and begin my warm-up set, my eyes keep sliding back toward them like magnets being drawn together.

Magnus stands so close to Cecilia. His voice is low—too low for me to hear—but the sound still travels through the air like a quiet storm cloud rolling in. I can’t see his face fully from here, but his body language speaks volumes. There is ease in the way he works with her. Familiarity. Trust.

Is this what it looks like when an alpha trains with someone he is considering as a Luna?

My chest twists with something bitter.

Don’t be ridiculous, I scolded myself. Did you think you were so special because he trained you personally, too?Stop pitying yourself and get back to work.

I increase the weight on the machine, gritting my teeth as I push through the next set. My arms ache—my body still weak from years of undertraining—but I am not going to give anyone here more reason to laugh at me. They are strong, and that is my inspiration to grow, too.

After another set, I pause, catching my breath, when movement in the corner of my eye pulls my attention.

Liam and Rhys, two gamma males, stand near the pull-up bars, both shirtless, glistening with sweat from their earlier workout. Their bodies are chiseled from years of rigorous training—wolves in their prime. I don’t mean to stare. Really, I don’t. But my eyes linger just a second too long.

And they notice.

They exchange a glance, then smile at one another, before making their way toward me.

"Need a hand?" Liam asks, nodding toward the chest press machine.

Rhys smiles easily, resting one forearm on the machine’s edge. "You’ve got good form, Kaya. But if you’d like a spot, we’re happy to help."

I blink, taken off guard by the sudden attention. "Oh—I, um... I’m okay. But thank you."

They don’t move away from me. Just smile, lingering like wolves who’d scented something curious.

I offer a polite chuckle, shifting in my seat. "I’m still kind of new to this machine, that’s all."

Rhys tilts his head. "All the more reason to have help."

It isn’t threatening—just flirty, friendly—but still, heat rises to my cheeks. I am not used to this kind of attention. Not in this pack, at least. And definitely not when I am in a baggy hoodie and still catching my breath from my last set, while my face shimmers with sweat.

"Alright," suddenly, a low, sharp voice cuts through the friendly air surrounding us, and I instantly freeze, my body almost turning into stone.

Magnus.

He is suddenly here, towering beside us, his gaze like frost on fire. He doesn’t look at me—he stares down the two gammas instead.

"I think she said she’s fine," Magnus says coldly, though his eyes are burning with unconcealed annoyance.

Liam raises his hands in surrender. "Just offering some help, Alpha."

"Help is fine. Distraction is not." Magnus’s tone makes the hairs on my arms rise. "Move."

They don’t argue. They just offer me a last lingering glance and walk off toward the water station.

I turn toward Magnus, heart pounding, trying to process what had just happened. "What was that?" I ask, surprisingly brave.

"You’re not here to flirt," he snaps at me, arms folding across his broad chest. "Especially when you’re the weakest one in the room."

His words hit harder than they should have.

My throat tightens painfully. "I wasn’t flirting. I just... I needed help with the machine."

He steps closer, gaze dark and much too heavy on my already weakened heart. "Then ask me."

My lips part, words caught behind the barrier of both pride and surrender. "I didn’t think you’d notice. You were busy."

I jerk my chin at Cecilia, and his jaw ticks, but he doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he turns to the machine and adjusts the seat, silently motioning for me to sit.

I hesitate... then do as he asks.

"I notice everything," he says firmly, but it is still enough to stir everything inside me once again.

He moves behind me, his hands brushing my shoulders as he guides my form. His touch is technical, but it burns through the layers of my hoodie like fire on dry leaves.

"Keep your elbows tucked," he murmurs, his breathing hot near my ear. "Focus on exhaling during the push."

I nod, not trusting my voice.

As I press the weight forward, he steadies my form with firm hands. I feel his breath behind my ear. The brush of his fingers across my arms. The scent of winter woods and something spicy, something warm.

My core tenses. Not from the exertion, but from something else entirely.

"You’re doing better than you think," he murmurs again. "Don’t let them get in your head."

I turn my head slightly to look up at him. His eyes meet mine—amber, steady, comforting. I feel like I am being pulled inside them; charmed, hypnotized.

Suddenly, it dawns on me––our faces are close. Too close. My heart pounds against my ribs, betraying me, and before I can even realize it, my lips are already moving on their own.

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" I whispered, but Magnus does not hear me. He moves away because someone calls him, and I feel the weight of the broken moment crush me like a wave of rubble.

"Focus on your form," he says, stepping back.

And just like that, the wall between us rises again.

He walks away from me, and even though I understand why, I can’t stop watching the powerful lines of his back as he moves further out of reach. In my mind, three words loop like a desperate mantra, each repetition more painful than the previous one: Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

And then, it happens.

For the briefest moment, he pauses, his steps faltering as if something invisible tugs at his chest. His head shifts slightly, the angle of his face hinting that he might turn around. Hope flares in my chest, burning too bright, too fast.

But he doesn’t. He hesitates... then keeps walking.

I remain frozen where I stand, heart heavy with a sharp, aching disappointment.

Why... do I want him to look at me so badly?