Mein lieber Don, aus der Asche wiedergeboren, ich will dich nicht

Skye 

Of all the futures I imagined for myself, I never dreamed one day I would have to choose between my husband and my unborn child.

My hand trembles as I smooth down the front of my dress—a soft blue one that Jaxon once said he liked. I've spent an hour on my appearance, wanting to look my best when I tell him about the baby. Wanting him to remember why he married me in the first place.

He might not want to, but I owe it to the little life in me to try.

I touch my stomach briefly, gathering courage. "Your father is going to want us," I whisper. "I know he will."

He wants a divorce. I’m sure of it. Actually, I think that’s what he wants to talk about today. He called a meeting of the elders, and he told me to make myself presentable today. I can’t imagine anything else the almighty Alpha could be so nervous about.

Unbonding with one’s fated mate is not easy. Not for an Alpha.

I’ve been bracing myself for today, and I would have accepted my fate, if it weren’t for the unexpected result of this morning’s check-up.  Jaxon made me see the doctor because I haven’t been at my best on the training ground lately. Turns out it wasn’t sickness, but the best thing that could ever happen to us.

So I came early.

He needs to know all the information before he announces his decision.

Taking a deep breath, I head for Jaxon's office. But when I round the corner, I stop short.

The conference room doors are open, and I can see inside.

My heart stutters.

Because he’s not alone. He’s with her. Cassandra. My sister. 

And she's in his arms.

The world tilts sideways. I grip the doorframe to steady myself, my carefully rehearsed words dissolving on my tongue. Jaxon's broad shoulders are bent toward her, his hand at the small of her back, and for a moment—one horrible, crystallizing moment—I'm seventeen again, watching them together at pack gatherings, convinced they belonged to each other.

The sound of my sharp intake of breath cuts through the room.

Jaxon's head snaps up. His steel-gray eyes meet mine, and whatever I see there—surprise? guilt?—makes my stomach drop. He releases Cassandra immediately, stepping back as if burned.

"Skye." His voice is carefully neutral. "I didn't expect you yet."

Cassandra turns, and I'm struck by how perfect she looks. She always does. Honey-blonde hair falling in perfect waves, amber eyes wide with what might be concern if I didn't know better. She's wearing a cream-colored dress that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe, and even her surprise seems elegant.

"Skye," she breathes, pressing a hand to her chest. "I'm so sorry. That probably looked—I was just upset, and Jaxon was comforting me. You know how he is."

Do I? I want to ask. Because I'm not sure I know my husband at all.

"What are you doing here?" The words come out smaller than I intended. "You left. You've been gone for years."

"I came back." Cassandra's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Didn't Jaxon tell you?"

My gaze swings to my husband. His jaw is tight, that familiar furrow between his brows deeper than usual. The scent of cedarwood and amber surrounds him, and even now, even with my heart cracking in my chest, my wolf responds to it. She always does.

"When?" I manage.

"A month ago."

A month.

The room spins. I've been living in the same house as him for a month, sharing the same bed, and he never once mentioned that my sister—his ex-girlfriend, the woman I've spent three years convinced he still loves—was back in the pack.

"You've been here a month," I repeat, hating how my voice shakes. "And no one thought to tell me?"

Jaxon's expression hardens. "It wasn't relevant to you."

The casual cruelty of those words steals my breath. Not relevant. My own sister's return isn't relevant to me.

"I see." My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, then drops. Not yet. I can't tell him about the baby. Not like this. Not when Cassandra is standing there looking at me with something that might be pity.

Because suddenly, everything makes terrible sense. I'd convinced myself Jaxon wanted a divorce because I couldn't give him an heir. The pack doctor had been so careful with his words last month, explaining that stress and the incomplete mate bond could affect fertility, that it might take time. I'd seen the disappointment in Jaxon's eyes, the way he'd withdrawn even further.

But it was never about me being barren.

It was about her.

"How long have you two been meeting?" I ask quietly.

"Skye, it's not what you think—" Cassandra starts.

"How. Long."

Jaxon's nostrils flare. "Cassandra needed help adjusting back into pack life. As Alpha, it's my responsibility—"

"Your responsibility," I echo. "Right. And me? What's your responsibility to me?"

His silence is answer enough.

I look at my sister—beautiful, confident Cassandra, who never doubted her place in the world. Who left this pack and Jaxon behind like it meant nothing, while I stayed and tried to build a life from the ruins of that night. 

"I can't compete with you," I tell Cassandra, and I hate that it's true. "I never could."

Something flickers across her face. "Skye, that's not—"

"I need to speak with Jaxon. Alone." The words scrape out of my throat. "Please."

Cassandra glances at Jaxon, and I don't miss the silent communication that passes between them. She knows him well enough to read his moods, his silences. After a month of secret meetings, maybe she knows him better than I do.

"Of course." She moves toward the door, her jasmine and oak scent trailing after her. It's pretty. Sophisticated. Nothing like my wild honeysuckle and rain. "I'll just—"

The door bursts open before she can finish.

A small boy—maybe four years old—barrels into the room. He has blond hair that falls across his forehead and a strong jawline that makes my heart stutter. Because I know that jawline. I see it every morning across the breakfast table.

The boy's eyes, wide and bright, land on Jaxon.

"Daddy!" he shouts, launching himself forward. "Daddy, you have to come see what I found!"

The world stops.

The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I can't draw another breath. Can't think. Can't process what I'm seeing as Jaxon's expression shifts—surprise, then something softer, almost tender—and he catches the boy before he collides with his legs.

"Daddy?" The word falls from my lips, barely a whisper.

But loud enough that three pairs of eyes turn to me.

Loud enough that my entire world shatters.