Mother is Here.

Keon’s POV:

The room goes completely still after the guard speaks.

“She says she’s here for her daughter.”

For one brief second, nobody moves.

Not the guard.

Not Winter.

Not even me.

The words settle heavily into the air, pressing against the walls of the room until it feels difficult to breathe properly.

Winter’s scent changes first.

Fear.

Sharp and immediate.

Not panic exactly, but close enough that my wolf reacts instantly beneath my skin, alert and restless. I turn toward her automatically and find her already staring at the doorway like the world beneath her feet just shifted.

Her face has gone pale.

The bond catches the spike of emotion before she can hide it, and suddenly I understand something very clearly.

She did not expect this.

Neither did I.

The timing alone is enough to tighten every muscle in my body.

A witch delegation arriving here without prior notice is already dangerous. Her mother arriving personally is worse. The High Witch’s Wife does not travel casually. Someone in her position does not cross into werewolf territory unless the situation is serious enough to justify the political risk.

And right now, the political situation between our people is balanced on a knife’s edge.

One wrong move could destroy it.

The guard still waits near the doorway.

I force my attention back to him.

“How many?” I ask.

“Six, Alpha.”

Not enough for war.

Enough for authority.

I nod once, dismissing him silently for the moment. He closes the door again immediately, leaving the room in silence once more.

Winter still hasn’t moved.

Her fingers tighten around the blanket pooled in her lap, and I can practically feel the thoughts racing through her head through the bond. Fear for her people. Fear for herself. Fear of what this arrival means.

But beneath all of it is something else.

Guilt.

That emotion hits me harder than it should.

I exhale slowly through my nose and step away from the bed, moving toward the window instead.

Outside, the palace grounds are fully awake now. Guards move across the courtyard below in tighter formations than usual. News spreads quickly inside a pack, especially after an attack. Add a witch delegation arriving unexpectedly, and the entire palace will already be drowning in rumors.

Most of them are probably about us.

I can already imagine the conversations.

The Alpha and the witch.

The scent on my clothes.

The fact that she woke up in my room.

What we did two night ago.

The way I nearly tore apart half the palace last night.

Wolves notice things.

And wolves talk.

The mate bond has always existed in our lore, but most people treat it like myth wrapped in instinct. Some wolves believe in it absolutely. Others think it is exaggerated nonsense used to romanticize territorial behavior.

But nobody ignores the signs once they start appearing.

And ours are becoming harder to hide.

I close my eyes briefly.

This is becoming messy.

Not because I regret what happened.

I don’t.

Not even slightly.

That realization should probably concern me more than it does.

Last night changed something in me permanently.

Before, I kept my distance because it was easier. Easier for the pack. Easier for diplomacy. Easier for Derrick.

But the second I saw her on the floor, passed out, every part of me stopped pretending this was manageable.

The thought of losing her nearly shattered whatever restraint I still had left.

And now her mother is here.

A dangerous woman arriving at the exact moment my control over this situation is beginning to fracture.

Behind me, Winter finally speaks.

“She shouldn’t be here.”

Her voice is quiet.

Too quiet.

I turn back toward her slowly.

“She came because something is wrong,” she continues. “My mother never leaves our territory unless it’s serious.”

I study her carefully.

“You think this is connected to your dream.”

She hesitates.

That alone is answer enough.

The eye again.

The ocean.

The necklace.

And now her mother arriving without warning.

None of this feels coincidental anymore.

I hate coincidences.

My jaw tightens slightly as I think through the possibilities.

If I deny her entry, the consequences will spread immediately.

The witches will interpret it as hostility.

As disrespect.

Possibly even imprisonment.

And given the fact that Winter was already attacked under my protection, denying her mother access would look suspicious at best and threatening at worst.

But allowing her inside carries its own risks.

Because once she sees Winter—

Everything changes.

No one aside from Rowan knows Winter has been attacked twice now. That will change the second she walks in here.

The bond may still be rumor to the rest of the pack, but a witch of her status will notice immediately. The scent alone would be enough. Add the way Winter reacts to me now, the way the bond pulls at both of us, and there will be very little left to deny.

And if her mother realizes exactly how deep this has become?

I don’t know what she’ll do.

The thought irritates me more than it should.

Not because I fear her.

Because I dislike the idea of anyone trying to take Winter away from me.

The possessiveness hits suddenly enough that I almost grimace.

Dangerous.

My wolf does not care.

Mine.

The word settles heavily in my chest.

I push the feeling down before it can rise further.

Winter watches me carefully now.

“You’re thinking about refusing her.”

Not a question.

I say nothing for a moment.

Then finally, “I’m thinking about consequences.”

A faint bitter smile touches her mouth.

“There are always consequences with me lately.”

I don’t like the exhaustion in her voice.

Or the guilt.

Especially the guilt.

“You were attacked in my territory,” I say evenly. “Your mother has every right to see you.”

“And your people?”

“My people will survive a diplomatic visit.”

Though barely, depending on how today goes.

Winter lowers her gaze briefly before looking back at me again.

“She’s going to know.”

There it is.

The real fear.

Not politics.

Not diplomacy.

Me.

The bond.

Us.

I walk back toward the bed slowly, stopping in front of her.

“Probably,” I admit.

Her throat moves slightly as she swallows.

“And you’re okay with that?”

The question hangs between us quietly.

Am I?

No.

Yes.

I don’t know.

I only know that the idea of forcing her mother away while Winter sits here frightened and exhausted feels wrong in a way I can’t justify.

And despite everything, despite the danger and the politics and the chaos rapidly building around us—

I want Winter to feel safe.

Even if it complicates everything else.

Especially if it complicates everything else.

I hold her gaze for several long seconds before answering.

“She’s your mother.”

Something in Winter’s expression softens at that.

Not fully.

But enough.

I turn toward the door again and open it before I can reconsider the decision.

The guard straightens immediately outside.

“Allow them entry,” I order calmly.

The guard blinks once in surprise before bowing his head.

“Yes, Alpha.”

He disappears quickly down the corridor.

Behind me, the room falls silent again.

I remain standing near the doorway, staring down the hall long after the guard vanishes from sight.

Because deep down, beneath the diplomacy and strategy and politics—

I know this moment changes everything.