Chapter 12

The drive to Crescent Ridge took four hours.

Four hours of fighting tears. Of replaying the conversation in my head. Of hearing his voice ask, “Are you certain the pregnancy is mine?” over and over until the words lost all meaning.

My wolf remained silent. Not sulking. Not pleading. Just quiet grief that mirrored my own.

I crossed into my home pack’s territory just after midnight. The familiar scents of pine and mountain air wrapped around me like a blanket. Comforting. Safe.

Everything Nightfall had never been.

My parents’ house sat at the edge of the forest, a sprawling cabin my father had built with his own hands. Lights glowed in the windows despite the late hour.

They were waiting.

I’d called my mother from a rest stop two hours ago. Told her I was coming home. Needed to stay for a while. She’d asked no questions, just said my room would be ready.

I parked in the driveway and sat for a moment, gathering the strength to walk inside. To face them. To admit what had happened.

The front door opened before I could get out of the car.

My father stood silhouetted in the doorway. Tall and broad-shouldered, his silver-streaked hair catching the porch light. Alistair Sinclair, master hunter and the strongest wolf I’d ever known.

Until I met Lucian.

I pushed the thought away.

My mother appeared beside him. Evangeline Sinclair, smaller than my father but no less formidable. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid, and her eyes were filled with concern.

I got out of the car on shaking legs.

“Aurelia.” My mother was down the porch steps in seconds, pulling me into her arms.

The dam broke.

I sobbed into her shoulder like I was a child again. All the fear and anger and heartbreak poured out in gasping, ugly cries.

“Shh,” she murmured, stroking my hair. “You’re home now. You’re safe.”

My father joined us, his large hand resting on my back. His presence was solid. Grounding.

“Come inside,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you settled.”

They guided me into the house. The familiar warmth of home surrounded me. Wood smoke from the fireplace. The faint scent of herbs my mother kept in the kitchen. Everything exactly as I remembered.

My mother sat me down on the couch while my father disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with tea, pressing the warm mug into my hands.

“Drink,” he said.

I obeyed, the chamomile soothing my raw throat.

They sat on either side of me. Waiting. Not pushing.

“I’m pregnant,” I said finally.

My mother’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. No shock. No judgment. Just quiet support.

“The father?” my father asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“Lucian Blackwood. The Alpha Heir of Nightfall Pack.”

My father’s jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing.

“Does he know?” my mother asked.

“Yes.” Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. “I told him tonight. He asked if I was certain the baby was his.”

My father’s growl was low and dangerous. “He what?”

“Alistair,” my mother said quietly.

“He questioned our daughter’s integrity?” The Alpha power rolling off my father made the air heavy. “After getting her pregnant?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” I said, though the words felt like a betrayal. Why was I defending him?

“It’s not complicated.” My father stood, pacing. “You tell a man he’s going to be a father, and his first response is to question whether the child is his? There’s no complication. Just disrespect.”

“He’s not wrong to be cautious,” I heard myself say. “I told him what we shared meant nothing. I avoided him for weeks. From his perspective—”

“From his perspective, he’s a coward.” My father stopped pacing, his expression fierce. “You’re Alistair Sinclair’s daughter. When you give your word, it’s truth. When you say a child is his, it’s his. The fact he questioned this tells me everything I need to know about his character.”

My mother’s arm wrapped around my shoulders. “What do you want to do, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know.” I leaned into her warmth. “I can’t go back to Nightfall. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

“Then you stay here,” she said simply. “For as long as you need. This is your home.”

“What about my contract? The security work?”

“Let the Blackwood Pack figure out their own security,” my father said. “You’re not obligated to work for people who treat you with such disrespect.”

“The Grand Matriarch was kind to me. She trusted me.”

“Then she should have raised her grandson to show women basic decency.” His tone was final.

We sat in silence for a while. My parents on either side of me. Their presence more comforting than any words could be.

“Does your wolf agree with leaving?” my mother asked quietly.

I hesitated. “My wolf thinks Lucian is our mate.”

My father’s growl intensified.

“But she’s wrong,” I added quickly. “He’s not mate material. He sleeps with a different woman every day. He—”

“He hurt you,” my mother finished gently.

“Yes.” The admission came out broken. “He hurt me.”

“Then he doesn’t deserve you,” my father said. “Mate bond or not, a man who hurts his mate is not worthy of the title.”

We talked late into the night. I told them everything. The job. The threats from Shadowmere Pack. Walking in on Lucian with other women. The party. The balcony. The weeks of avoidance. The pregnancy.

My mother listened with the patience that came from years of keeping pack records. Seeing patterns. Understanding motivations.

My father listened with barely controlled fury, his protective instincts on full display.

By the time I finished, it was nearly three in the morning.

“You need rest,” my mother said. “Your room is ready. Sleep. We’ll figure everything out in the morning.”

I nodded, exhausted beyond measure.

She walked me upstairs, tucking me into bed like I was five years old. Her hand rested briefly on my still-flat stomach.

“This baby is a blessing,” she said softly. “No matter the circumstances. No matter the father. This child is part of you, and part of our pack. We’ll love them fiercely.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks again. “Thank you.”

She kissed my forehead and left, closing the door softly behind her.

I lay in the darkness, one hand on my stomach.

My wolf stirred slightly. “Home,” she whispered.

Yes. Home.

But not complete. Never complete without—

No. I wouldn’t think about him. Wouldn’t let myself miss the man who’d broken my heart.

I fell into fitful sleep, plagued by dreams of amber eyes and accusations.

The next day passed in a blur of unpacking and settling in. My mother made my favorite meals. My father brought in firewood and checked the perimeter, his way of showing care through action.

I slept. Ate. Tried not to think about Nightfall Pack or the man I’d left behind.

My phone remained off. I didn’t want to know if Lucian tried to contact me again. Didn’t want to see messages that would either hurt me more or tempt me to go back.

By evening, I felt marginally normal again.

We sat in the living room after dinner. My father reading. My mother working on her pack archives. Me staring into the fireplace.

Normal. Peaceful.

Then my father stood abruptly, his body going tense.

“What is it?” my mother asked.

“Vehicles approaching.” He moved to the window. “Two of them. Luxury cars.”

My mother joined him, peering through the curtains.

My heart started pounding. No one in our pack drove luxury vehicles. We were hunters, trackers, workers. Practical people with practical cars.

“They’re stopping,” my father said, his voice tight.

I stood on shaky legs and moved to the window.

Two black luxury vehicles sat in front of our house. Sleek. Expensive. Gleaming under the porch lights.

The kind of vehicles only the wealthiest packs could afford.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Who are they?” my mother asked quietly.

I couldn’t answer.

Couldn’t speak.

Could only stare at the two black cars that had just pulled up in front of my childhood home.

Who were they?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​