Chapter 7: Ghost from the Past

Nadia's POV

My world stopped moving. Alistair Winters stood in the wreckage of Silver Moon, alive when he should have been buried two years ago. My wolf howled inside me, ready to tear him apart for everything he had taken from us. But something was wrong with the person before me.

He wasn't commanding an army. He wasn't wielding dark power or sneering with triumph. He stood alone, hands raised in surrender, looking like a man who had spent years living in his own personal hell. His once-proud shoulders curved inward, his face carved with lines that spoke of sleepless nights and endless regret.

Dylan's body turned to stone beside me. Through our newly forming bond, I felt his emotions crash into me like waves against rocks. Rage, betrayal, confusion, and underneath it all, a desperate, childlike hope that made my chest ache. He wanted his father back, even after everything.

"Don't come closer," Dylan warned, his voice deadly quiet. "Give me one reason I shouldn't rip your throat out right now."

"I don't have one," Alistair said simply. "I deserve whatever you do to me. But before you act, let me explain. Please, son. Let me tell you the truth I should have told you five years ago."

James positioned himself between us and Alistair, but I put my hand on his arm. "Wait," I said softly. Something in Alistair's eyes stopped me. Desperation, yes, but also genuine remorse. I'd seen enough liars in my life to recognize when someone was drowning in their own guilt.

"You have five minutes," I told him. "Then Dylan decides what happens next."

Alistair's eyes met mine, and I saw surprise flicker there. "Thank you," he whispered. "I don't deserve your mercy."

"You don't," I agreed coldly. "But I want to hear why you destroyed us."

He took a shaky breath, suddenly looking every day of his age. "My death was staged. I couldn't live with what I'd done, couldn't face Dylan after forcing him to reject his true mate. So I ran. I became a ghost, living in exile, wrestling with guilt that ate me alive every single day."

"You staged your death?" Dylan's voice cracked. "We mourned you. I mourned you."

"I know." Alistair's voice broke. "And I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry, Dylan. I came back because I'm dying. Real dying this time. Cancer. The human kind that even shifter healing can't fix. I have maybe three months left, and I needed to make this right before I go."

Through the bond, I felt Dylan's walls crumbling. The anger was still there, burning hot, but underneath it, grief threatened to swallow him whole.

"Make it right?" Dylan laughed bitterly. "You think a deathbed confession makes it right? You threatened to kill Nadia. You forced me to shatter her in front of the entire pack. You made me mate with someone I didn't love while my true mate ran away hating me. How do you make that right?"

"I can't," Alistair admitted. "Nothing I say or do will erase what I did. But you deserve the full truth before I die." He looked at me again. "I discovered your heritage by accident. Found records showing Vincent Blackstone had an affair with your mother. When I realized you were his daughter, I panicked."

"Panicked enough to threaten murder?" I asked.

"Yes." His honesty was brutal. "Vincent was our enemy. In my mind, you became a spy, a weapon he could use to destroy Silver Moon from within. I thought Dylan was being manipulated, that Vincent had somehow orchestrated your mate bond to infiltrate our pack." He shook his head. "I was wrong. Paranoid and wrong. But I couldn't see past my fear."

"So you made Dylan reject me," I said flatly.

"I gave him an ultimatum. Reject you publicly and mate with Veronica, or I will have you hunted down and killed." Alistair's face twisted with shame. "The threats were real, Nadia. I would have done it. I was that far gone in my paranoia."

Dylan made a wounded sound. Through our bond, I felt his heart breaking all over again.

"After you left," Alistair continued, "Dylan fell apart. He went through with the mating ceremony with Veronica, but he was a shell. And I watched my son die inside, knowing I had killed him just as surely as if I'd put a blade through his heart. That's when I realized what I'd done. I had  destroyed my son's happiness, his future, his soul, all because I was too scared and stupid to see the truth."

"What truth?" I whispered.

"That love is stronger than fear. That true mates are gifts from the Moon Goddess herself, and I'd spat in her face by forcing you apart." He looked at Dylan with tears streaming down his face. "I staged my death because I couldn't bear to see what I'd turned you into. And I've spent five years in exile, living with the knowledge that I'm the monster who destroyed his own son."

The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. Dylan stood frozen, his jaw clenched so tight I worried his teeth would crack.

"Why come back now?" James asked quietly.

"Because I'm dying, and I wanted to beg for forgiveness before I go." Alistair's voice shook. "I don't expect to receive it. I don't deserve it. But Dylan, you need to know that forcing you to reject Nadia is the biggest regret of my life. A pack without love isn't worth protecting. I see that now, too late."

Dylan took a step forward, and I felt murder rising in him through our bond. But also something else. A small, broken part of him that still loved his father despite everything.

Before Dylan could speak, before he could make a choice he might regret, I stepped forward. My wolf protested, wanting vengeance, but I silenced her. Because looking at Alistair, I saw something that changed everything.

I saw myself. Or rather, who I might have become if Dylan and I had never found our way back to each other. Consumed by regret, living in exile from everything that mattered, drowning in mistakes that could never be undone.

"Alistair," I said softly.

He looked at me, waiting for the killing blow he clearly expected.

Instead, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

Dylan sucked in a sharp breath. Through our bond, I felt his shock crash into me like a physical blow. James made a strangled sound. But I held Alistair while he stood rigid with surprise.

"You caused us tremendous pain," I said quietly. "You broke us both and forced us to live with that brokenness for five years. What you did was unforgivable."

Alistair nodded against my shoulder, accepting the truth.

"But I forgive you anyway."

He jerked back, staring at me like I'd grown a second head. "What?"

"I forgive you," I repeated. "Because holding onto hate will poison what Dylan and I are building. And because without those five years apart, I wouldn't have grown strong enough to stand beside him as an equal. I was weak before, scared, content to live in his shadow. The pain you caused forced me to become someone stronger."

"Nadia," Dylan breathed.

I turned to him, taking his hands. Through our bond, I felt his emotions warring inside him—rage fighting love, betrayal wrestling hope.

‘Let him go,’ I whispered through our connection. ‘Holding onto this anger will only hurt us. He's dying, Dylan. He came back to make peace. Let US move forward.’

Dylan's hands trembled in mine. "He destroyed us."

"He broke us," I corrected. "But we found our way back. And now we're stronger because of it."

"I don't know if I can forgive him."

"Then don't. Not yet. But don't let hate consume you either."

Dylan stared at his father, emotions flickering across his face too fast to track. Finally, he spoke.

"You have three months to prove you mean what you say. You'll stay at Silver Moon, help us rebuild. And maybe, if you earn it, I'll forgive you before you die."