His Father's Mate

The bar was thick with smoke, whiskey, and that sharp werewolf musk that made my skin prickle.I was already on my feet, boots planted unevenly on the sticky floor, swaying just enough to know the liquor had won. The room started to spin a little, as lights shone amber and red across dark booths. My head felt heavy, but my chest felt heavier—like something was still clawing at the inside of my ribs.Three big wolves sat in the corner booth, shoulders wide, drinks in hand, laughing low. Their voices came through the music, loud and careless.“…human mate, can you believe it?”“Cassian must be slumming it for the bond boost.”“She won’t last a month in real pack life.”“Pathetic little thing.”Every word felt like a fresh cut. Heat surged up my neck, while tears stayed behind my eyes. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. The liquor made everything louder in anger, and hurt.I turned. My voice was loud enough to be heard over the music. “Got something to say?”They laughed mockingly

The phone in my pocket buzzed again as I turned the corner onto my street.I ignored it. I had been ignoring it since I left the pavilion. Notifications piled up—texts, missed calls, voicemails I didn’t want to hear. Cassian’s name flashed on the screen every few minutes, insistent, like he thought constant noise would force me to answer. I didn’t open any of them. I knew what they would say. Threats wrapped in fake apologies. Begging disguised as anger. Words that would only make the ache in my chest worse.My apartment building looked smaller than it had yesterday. The cracked steps felt colder under my boots, rougher, like they’d sharpened overnight. The peeling paint on the door sagged more, curling at the edges. Everything felt tighter, like the world had shrunk around me while I was gone, squeezing in from all sides.I climbed the stairs slowly. Legs heavy, knees soft from running earlier. Chest still tight from sprinting away from the pavilion. From crying in ugly, silent heave

At the Villa's guest wing, my suitcase sat untouched at the foot of the bed with its zipper still half-open from when I’d thrown things in earlier. The room was too big—high ceilings disappearing into shadow, dark wood floors polished until they reflected the faint moonlight coming through the windows. The king bed was draped in white sheets, pillows stacked perfectly, like no one had ever slept in it. I stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around myself. The sundress still clung to my skin, wrinkled from yesterday, smelling faintly of whiskey and sweat. I hadn’t unpacked. Hadn’t showered. Hadn’t even sat down since the young, quiet maid whose eyes always averted showed me in and left. Her footsteps had faded down the hall, soft and quick, like she didn’t want to hang around.Damian hadn’t followed.He’d disappeared after the office door closed behind him and left me standing there with his words ringing in my ears, low and rough: If you ever say it again, I won’t stop.My f

ARIAThe folder felt hot in my hands.I stood frozen behind Damian’s massive desk, the leather chair still warm from where he had been sitting.She is the key. Keep her close. Cassian can’t know.The note was written in his handwriting. Below it were photos: me leaving my apartment with Dad’s oxygen tank, me crying on the bus after the wedding, me stumbling drunk in the bar the night I had thrown myself at him. Dates were stamped on every image. He had been watching me for weeks. Maybe longer.My stomach twisted violently. The taste of betrayal rose sour in my throat.He had known who I was the second I kissed him. He had known about Cassian, about the ruined wedding, about Dad’s bills. And he had still let me grind against him like a desperate fool.I slammed the folder shut as footsteps echoed down the hallway.I didn't have time to escape or maybe hide the evidence before the door swung open.Da

ARIAI woke alone in Damian’s massive bed, the black robe he’d left for me draped neatly over the chair nearby. My body still carried faint echoes of last night’s overwhelming sensations, but the moment my eyes landed on the framed photo on the nightstand, everything else shattered.My stomach twisted violently. I pulled on the robe with shaking hands and made my way down the long hallway toward his office, the folder clutched tight against my chest like evidence in a trial I wasn’t ready for.The office door stood open. Damian was already there, standing behind his desk in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked up the instant I stepped inside, gray eyes fixed on me.I didn’t sit. I didn’t greet him. I just held up the folder and said the only thing burning in my throat.“You and Cassian… you’re father and son.”Damian didn’t flinch. He simply closed the laptop in front of him and met my gaze head-on