Chapter 6 Hunter and Tara

The Price of Truth

Hunter pov

My boots echoed against the hardwood floor as I strode down the main hallway of the pack house, my overnight bag slung over one shoulder and determination etched into every line of my face. The investigator's report crinkled in my jacket pocket with each step, a tangible reminder of the lead that might finally bring me to Tara.

Behind me, I could hear rapid footsteps struggling to keep up with my long strides. Lydia's voice called my name, breathless and desperate, but I didn't slow down. I had said everything that needed to be said in my father's office. Now it was time for action, not more words.

"Hunter, please!" Lydia's hand caught my arm just as I reached the front door, her manicured nails digging into my jacket sleeve. "Just listen to me for five minutes. That's all I'm asking."

I turned to face her, noting the way her perfect composure had begun to crack around the edges. Her platinum hair was slightly mussed from hurrying after me, and there was a wild look in her ice-blue eyes that spoke of barely controlled panic.

"There's nothing left to discuss, Lydia. I've made my position clear."

"Your position is insane!" The words burst from her with surprising vehemence. "You're willing to throw away everything—your pack, your birthright, your future—for a girl who doesn't even want you. How is that the action of a rational leader?"

I set my bag down with deliberate slowness, then turned to give her my full attention. Around them, pack members were beginning to gather, drawn by the raised voices and obvious tension. I could see curious faces peering around doorways and through windows, all eager to witness whatever drama was unfolding between their future Alpha and my intended bride.

"You want to do this here?" I asked quietly, my voice carrying the dangerous calm that preceded a storm. "In front of everyone?"

"I want to do this wherever I can get through to you!" Lydia stepped closer, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Hunter, I've been patient. I've been understanding about your... obsession. But this has gone too far. You're about to destroy yourself, and I won't stand by and watch it happen."

"Your concern is touching, but misplaced. This doesn't involve you."

"Doesn't involve me?" Lydia's laugh held a note of hysteria. "I've spent the last two months of my life here, learning about your pack, forming relationships with your people, preparing to be your Luna. My father has already started announcing our engagement to neighboring packs. How does this not involve me?"

My expression hardened. "Because I never agreed to any of it. You and our fathers made plans without consulting me, then expected me to fall in line like a good little puppet. That's not how this works."

"That's exactly how this works!" Lydia's voice rose again, desperation making her careless about who might overhear. "This is how alliances are formed, how packs grow stronger. Love is a luxury, Hunter. Security is a necessity."

"For you, maybe. Not for me."

The words hit her like a physical blow, and I saw her flinch as if I had struck her. For a moment, her mask slipped completely, revealing the vulnerable young woman beneath the political maneuvering.

"What's so wrong with me?" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I'm beautiful, I'm intelligent, I come from a strong bloodline. I could give you powerful children, help you lead with wisdom and grace. What does she have that I don't?"

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with pain and genuine confusion. I felt a flicker of sympathy for her—Lydia wasn't evil, just a product of a system that valued strategy over feeling, bloodlines over bonds.

"She has my heart," I said simply. "And she had it long before I knew what that meant."

"Your heart?" Lydia's voice took on a bitter edge. "Your heart belongs to someone who ran away the moment things got difficult. Someone who chose to abandon you rather than fight for your relationship. What kind of love is that?"

"The kind that recognized when it wasn't wanted."

"She was wanted! You're here, aren't you? You've been searching for months, turning down every opportunity for happiness because you can't let go of some romantic fantasy. If that's not proof of wanting, I don't know what is."

I picked up my bag again, shouldering it with finality. "You're right. She was wanted. She *is* wanted. Which is why I'm going to find her and spend the rest of my life proving it to her."

"And what about me?" The question escaped Lydia in a broken whisper, all pretense of political sophistication stripped away. "What am I supposed to do? Go home and tell my father that the great Hunter Blackwood rejected me for a girl he treated so poorly she fled into the night? Do you have any idea what that will do to my reputation? My value as a potential mate?"

I paused, my hand on the door handle. In the werewolf world, a public rejection—especially one witnessed by multiple pack members—could indeed damage a she-wolf's prospects. Lydia would return to her pack branded as someone even the infamous Hunter Blackwood hadn't wanted, and that stigma might follow her for years.

But that wasn't my responsibility to fix.

"I'm sorry your father made promises he couldn't keep," I said, not turning around. "But I never led you on, never gave you reason to believe I wanted this marriage. You knew from the beginning that my heart was elsewhere."

"I thought I could change your mind!" The words burst from her with raw honesty. "I thought if I was perfect enough, patient enough, understanding enough, you'd eventually see what was right in front of you. I thought I could make you love me."

Now I did turn, and Lydia saw something in my expression that made her take an involuntary step backward. Not anger, not cruelty, but a kind of exhausted sadness that spoke of my own intimate familiarity with unrequited feelings.

"Love doesn't work that way," I said gently. "You can't earn it through perfect behavior or strategic thinking. You can't logic someone into feeling something they don't feel. Trust me—I've tried."

"So that's it?" Tears were streaming down Lydia's face now, her careful makeup smearing as she struggled to maintain some dignity. "You're just going to walk away? Leave me here to deal with the fallout while you chase after someone who probably doesn't even remember your name?"

"She remembers," I said with quiet certainty. "The bond may be severed, but some things can't be erased completely."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I remember everything about her. Every conversation, every smile, every moment when she looked at me like I was someone worth knowing instead of just someone to fear or respect." My voice grew softer, more distant. "And if I can carry those memories after what I did to her, then she carries them too."

Lydia wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking very young and very lost. "I don't understand how you can love someone who hurt you so badly."

"She didn't hurt me. I hurt her." my voice was firm, accepting full responsibility. "And now I'm going to find her and spend whatever time she'll give me trying to make amends for that."

"And if she won't forgive you? If she's moved on, found someone else, built a new life that doesn't include you?"

The question hit its mark, and Lydia saw my composure waver for just a moment. It was clearly a fear I had wrestled with during my months of searching.

"Then I'll accept that,"I said finally. "I'll tell her I'm sorry, that she deserved better than what I gave her, and I'll walk away knowing I at least tried to fix what I broke."

"That's not much of a plan."

"It's the only plan that lets me sleep at night."

I opened the front door, cool evening air rushing into the warm hallway. Behind me, I could hear Lydia's soft sobs and the whispered conversations of pack members discussing what they'd witnessed. By tomorrow, everyone would know that I had definitively rejected the political marriage my father had arranged.

"Hunter." Lydia's voice stopped me one last time, and when I looked back, I saw her struggling to regain some of her earlier composure. "When you find her—and I hope you do, for both our sakes—what makes you think she'll want you back? What makes you think you can fix something you destroyed so completely?"

It was a fair question, one that had haunted me through countless sleepless nights. I considered my answer carefully before speaking.

"I don't think anything," I admitted. "I hope. I hope that somewhere underneath all the pain I caused her, there's still a part of Tara that remembers what we could have been. I hope that the Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes, even when we're too stupid to recognize her gifts. And I hope that it's not too late to prove I'm worthy of a second chance."

"Hope," Lydia repeated, the word sounding foreign on her lips. "That's what you're building your entire future on? Hope?"

"Hope and the knowledge that I'd rather fail trying to win back my true mate than succeed at a marriage built on political convenience."

With that, I stepped out into the night, leaving behind the safety of arranged expectations and walking toward an uncertain future. Behind me, I heard Lydia's sobs resume, accompanied by the gentle voices of pack members trying to comfort her.

I felt bad for her pain, and I genuinely regretted that she'd been caught in the crossfire of pack politics and my own emotional journey. But I couldn't save her heart at the expense of my own soul.

Somewhere out there, Tara was living her life without me. Maybe she was happy, maybe she'd found peace, maybe she never wanted to see me again. But I would never know unless I had the courage to find out.

After four months of living with regret, courage was all I had left.