LOGINMy whole body tenses. “Stay away from her.”
“How old is she?” I don’t answer. “How old, Emily?” “Six.” I watch him do the math. Six years. Six years since that Christmas morning. Six years since he destroyed me, and I left with his child growing inside me. His face goes pale. His hands clench into fists at his sides. “You were pregnant.” It’s not a question. “When you came to the pack house that morning, you were already pregnant.” “Yes.” “And you didn’t tell me.” “You called me nothing.” The rage is pouring out now, hot and uncontrollable. “You married someone else. You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me. So why the hell would I tell you?” “Because she’s my daughter!” His voice rises for the first time, his devastation r leaking through. “She’s MY daughter!” I step forward, matching his intensity. “I’m the one who’s been there every single day for six years. I’m the one who held her when she was sick. I’m the one who taught her to walk and read and tie her shoes. You don’t get to show up now and claim her.” “I would have been there if I’d known!” “You should have believed me! With or without a baby, you should have trusted me!” We’re facing off now, both of us breathing hard. The air between us crackles with mate bond and fury and six years of pain. “Mama?” Mia’s small voice cuts through the tension. “Mama, you’re scaring me.” I immediately drop to my knees beside her. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” “Why is that man yelling?” “He’s not… we’re just…” I don’t know how to explain this. “I’m your father.” Nick’s voice is quiet now, controlled. He’s dropped into a crouch too, putting himself at Mia’s level without getting too close. “My name is Nick.” Mia looks at me for confirmation. I nod, unable to speak. “You have my eyes,” she says to Nick, and her voice is awed. Something breaks across his face. “Yeah, sweetheart. I guess I do.” “Emily!” Alexander’s voice comes from the entrance. He’s pushing through the doors, clearly having been looking for us. “What’s going on? Are you alright?” He sees Nick and his entire posture changes. He’s at my side immediately, his hand on my shoulder. Instantly Protective. “Who’s this?” Alexander asks, but his tone says he already knows. “Nicholas Blackwood.” Nick stands slowly, and suddenly he’s all Alpha. The casual, devastated father from a moment ago is gone. Now he’s sizing up competition. “And you are?” Nick’s entire demeanor shifts and I watch it happen, the way his shoulders go back, the way his jaw sets, the way his eyes go cold and assessing when he looks at Alexander’s hand on my shoulder. Possessive. He’s being possessive. The mate bond flares hot and insistent, responding to his Alpha energy but I force myself to stay still. To remember what he did. To remember that wanting him is what destroyed me the first time. “Alexander Hunt.” Alexander doesn’t back down. “Emily’s partner.” “Partner.” Nick’s voice is flat. “Is there a problem here?” Alexander’s hand tightens on my shoulder. “That depends.” Nick’s eyes haven’t left Alexander. “Are you the one who’s been helping her hide my daughter from me?” “I’m the one who’s been there for Emily when she needed someone. Which is more than you can say.” “Alexander, don’t.” I stand up, still holding Mia’s hand. “This isn’t the time or place.” “You’re right.” Nick’s voice is cold now. “We should discuss this somewhere private. The three of us. Tomorrow.” “There’s nothing to discuss.” I start to turn away again. “I’m her father.” Nick steps into my path, not threatening but unmovable. “That’s not something you can just ignore. We need to figure out custody arrangements and visitation—” “Custody?” The word comes out like a whip. “You think I’m going to just hand her over to you?” “That’s not what I said.” “That’s exactly what you meant.” I’m in his face now, fury overwhelming everything else. “You want to take her from me.” “I want to be part of her life!” “You don’t get to just decide that! You don’t get to show up after six years and demand—” “I have rights!” “You have nothing!” I’m screaming now, and I don’t care who hears. “You lost any rights you had when you called me nothing! When you chose Jessica! When you—” “Mama, I don’t feel good.” Mia’s voice is small and scared. Everything stops. I drop to my knees immediately. “What’s wrong, baby?” “My chest hurts.” No. Not here. Not now. “Does it hurt to breathe?” My hands are shaking as I check her over. She nods, and I can see it now. The wheeze. Her shaky hands. The way she’s holding herself too carefully. “We need to go.” I start to pick her up, but she’s getting too heavy, and my hands won’t stop shaking. “Let me.” Nick reaches for her. “Don’t touch her!” “Emily, your hands are shaking. Let me help.” Before I can argue, Mia starts coughing. That wet, rattling cough that means everything is wrong. She coughs again, and blood appears on her lips. “MIA!” Nick doesn’t ask permission this time. He scoops her up as her eyes roll back and her small body starts seizing. “Where’s your car?” His voice is pure Alpha command now. “The valet has it, but—” “We don’t have time.” He’s already moving. “Get your keys. Now.” I fumble for the valet ticket. Alexander is already running ahead, shouting for them to bring the car immediately. Mia is seizing violently in Nick’s arms, and there’s blood coming from her nose now too. My car appears, and Alexander is holding the back door open. Nick slides into the backseat with Mia, laying her across his lap. “Drive,” he orders. “I’m driving my own car,” I say, but my voice is shaking. “Emily—” Alexander starts. “I’m fine.” starting the engine, Alexander jumps into the driver’s side. I go to the back with Nick for Mia Nick has his phone out. “This is Alpha Blackwood. I need an ambulance to meet us at Westside General Hospital. Pediatric patient, six years old, actively seizing with hemoptysis. We’re five minutes out.” I’m in the backseat with Mia and Nick, close enough that our thighs are almost touching. The mate bond is screaming at the proximity, at having him this close after six years. My skin feels too tight. Every breath brings his scent, and it’s doing things to me that I absolutely cannot deal with right now. I press myself against the car door, trying to create distance. Trying to think about anything except the way his hands are gentle on Mia’s seizing body. The way his voice stays calm and controlled even though I can see the fear in his eyes. He’s good in a crisis. He always was. I hate that I remember that. We’re flying through the streets, and Alexander is running red lights because nothing matters except getting Mia to the hospital. “How long has she been sick?” Nick’s voice is controlled, but I can hear the fear underneath. “Three months.” “Three months and you didn’t tell me.” “I didn’t want your help.” “She’s dying, and you didn’t want my help?” “Stop it,” Alexander cuts in. “Both of you. This isn’t helping.” He’s right. I force myself to focus on the journey. The hospital appears, and Alex screeches into the emergency bay. Doctors and nurses are already waiting with a gurney. Nick is out of the car before it fully stops, laying Mia on the gurney. “Six-year-old female, seizure with hemoptysis. Started approximately eight minutes ago.” The medical team takes over and starts rushing her inside. I try to follow, but someone stops me. “Ma’am, please let the doctors work. We’ll update you as soon as we can.” I’m in a hallway. Alexander is beside me. Nick is on the other side of the hall, his expensive tuxedo stained with Mia’s blood. We stand there in silence for a long moment. “Tell me about her sickness,” Nick finally says. His voice is calm, but there’s something dangerous underneath. “Tell me everything.” “Her wolf genetics are attacking her human side.” The words come out mechanical. I’ve said them so many times. “It’s progressive. Fatal without intervention.” “What kind of intervention?” “An Alpha bond.” He goes very still. “From her biological father.” “Biological father is optimal, yes.” “Then I’ll do it.” No hesitation. “Right now. Whatever she needs.” “No.” “Emily—” “I said no.” I meet his eyes. “Alexander is going to bond with her.” Nick’s jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind. “Alexander’s bond won’t be as strong. You know biological—” “Will work well enough.” “You’re gambling with her life because you’re angry at me.” “I’m protecting her from you.” “From me?” His voice is deadly quiet now. “I’m her father.” “You’re the man who destroyed her mother. That’s what you are.” “And what happens when Alexander’s bond isn’t strong enough?” Nick takes a step toward me. “What happens when she dies because you were too proud to accept my help?” “Don’t you dare put that on me.” “I’m putting reality on you.” He’s in front of me now, and his presence is overwhelming. “She needs me. Whether you want to admit it or not, she needs her biological father’s bond. And you know it.” Dr. Harrison appears before I can respond. “She’s stable for now,” she says, and I almost collapse with relief. “But her condition is critical. She needs an Alpha blood bond within forty-eight hours, and I strongly recommend the biological father for the highest success rate.”NICKThe basement smells the same. Concrete and old blood and whatever's left of a man who used to smell like cologne and control.Alex is still cuffed to the pipe. Weeks in this room have changed him. His face has healed from what I did to it but something else hasn't healed, something behind his eyes that's gone flat and patient in a way that used to only live in Edward's face."You're back," he says. "Did the cure work?""There is no cure."Something flickers across his face. Not disappointment. Curiosity."None of the doctors could reverse it," I say. "None of the healers. None of the compounds. You built something nobody else understands and you're the only person who knows how to undo it and you're never going to tell me.""Correct on all counts.""So I stopped looking for a cure."Alex tilts his head."She's remembering," I say. "Not because of medicine. Because of me. Because of stories and coffee and pancakes and every small thing I did for months before you put a needle in h
EMILYI don't sleep.I lie in the grey sheets with the smell of him still on my skin and the echo of his voice in my ears and I watch the streetlamp throw amber light across the ceiling until the light fades and the sun comes up and Mia's alarm goes off in the next room.I hear her feet hit the floor. I hear her open Mason's door and whisper something about pancakes. I hear Mason's low, serious reply, the words too quiet to make out but the tone unmistakably patient. He's always patient with her. He got that from Nick.Everything comes back to Nick.I drag myself out of bed and pull on jeans and a sweater and stand in the bathroom doorway staring at my reflection. My lips are swollen. My hair is a mess. There's a mark on my collarbone that I don't remember getting, a faint purple bruise the exact shape of his mouth. I touch it with my fingers and my stomach flips.Last night I had sex with a man I've known for three weeks. Last night my body recognized him in ways my mind can't explai
EMILY I don't remember how we got to the bedroom. One moment we were on the couch with my hand in his hair and the ice pack dripping onto the floor, and the next we were moving through the dark apartment, his mouth on my throat, my back hitting the wall beside the hallway, his good hand sliding under my shirt and his injured arm held carefully at his side because even now, even when he's kissing me like I'm the only source of oxygen in the room, he's protecting the shoulder he threw in front of a car for my daughter. "You need to tell me if I hurt you," I say against his mouth. "You're not going to hurt me." "Your shoulder—" "Is fine." "You have stitches." "I've had worse." He walks me backward through the bedroom door. "I don't care about the shoulder. I don't care about the stitches. I care about you, right now, in this room, telling me you want this." "I want this." "Then stop worrying about my shoulder." I pull his shirt over his head. The bandages wrap around
I stand in my kitchen. The pad thai containers from last night are still on the counter. The napkin with his handwriting. Extra lime. No peanuts. The way you like it.I pick up my phone.*Come upstairs. Bring the stories.*Three dots. Then:*Are you sure?**I’m sure. But just stories. Nothing else.**Okay.**And bring ice for your shoulder.**Okay.**And Nick?**Yeah?**If you try to kiss me I’m pushing you off my balcony.**Noted.*He knocks four minutes later. Two knocks. My hand is on the doorknob before the second knock finishes and I stopped pretending that bothers me somewhere between the punch and the pasta story.He’s holding an ice pack and two bottles of water and he’s changed into a t-shirt and his hair is messy and his left arm is still held against his body and he looks tired and hurt and careful and something else underneath all of it that I can see but won’t name. “Sit,” I say.He sits on the couch. I sit beside him. Not the opposite end. The middle. Close enough that
The punch is sweet and cold and I hate that it’s good. “Told you,” Nick says. “One drink doesn’t prove anything.” “Your face is proving everything right now.” “My face is NEUTRAL.” “You scrunched your nose when you tasted it. The same scrunch you make when Mia does something cute and you’re trying not to react. Your whole face contracts for half a second and then you flatten it out and pretend nothing happened.” “I don’t scrunch.” “You’re scrunching right now. Thinking about the scrunch is making you scrunch.” “I’m going to throw this punch at your head.” “That would be a waste of good punch.”I take another sip. He watches me take it with an expression I’m getting tired of seeing, the one where his grey eyes go soft and his mouth almost curves and he looks like a man watching a home video of something he lost. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’m doing something remarkable. I’m drinking punch, Nick. It’s not a miracle.” “You called me Nick three times i
EMILY“I said no, Nick.”“It’s a school recital. Both kids are performing.”“Then we go separately. You take Mason. I take Mia. We sit on opposite sides of the auditorium.”“They’re performing TOGETHER, Emily. Mia and Mason are doing the duet. They’ve been practicing for two weeks.”“Then we sit on opposite sides and clap at the same time. Co-parents do that. That’s what we are.”“You keep saying that word like it’s a shield.”“It’s not a shield. It’s a FACT.”We’re standing in the lobby of the apartment building and his jaw is tight and my arms are crossed and Sage walked past us three minutes ago and turned around and walked the other way because the air between us could strip paint.“Fine,” he says. “Separate cars. Opposite sides.”“Fine.”“Fine.”I walk toward the front door. Mia is beside me, holding my hand, her costume bag over my shoulder. Mason is with Nick three steps behind us. I can feel him back there the way I always feel him when he’s close, a pressure in my chest that
Nick and I stare at each other across the hallway. “We’ll use Alexander’s bond,” I say before Nick can speak. Dr. Harrison’s expression shifts to concern. “Ms. Winters, I need to be very clear about the risks—” “I understand the risks. Alexander will bond with her.” “Emily—” Nick starts.
The doctor's offices smells like antiseptic and false hope. I'm sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, holding Mia's hand while Dr. Chen reviews her test results. Again. Like looking at them one more time will change what they say. Mia is six years old. She has my dark curls an
I wake up to sunlight burning through my eyelids. My head is pounding like someone’s taking a hammer to the inside of my skull, and my mouth tastes like something crawled inside and died. My body feels heavy and wrong, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. When I force my eyes open, everythin
“I reject you as my mate.” Nick’s voice echoes through Silver Moon pack house, and when his grey eyes find mine, there’s nothing in them. Not anger, not hurt. Just empty, like I never meant anything to him. Like we weren’t planning to run away together just hours ago. I’m on my knees in the c







