Chapter 6

Ares's POV

Seven Years Later

Seven years ago, Valeria walked out of my life, and I had spent almost every day since, trying to find her. Seven years, thousands of miles searched, countless leads followed, and not a single light at the end of the tunnel. I had searched for her in places I had never thought I'd visit, questioned people I had never imagined speaking to, and even chased rumours that led me nowhere.

And tonight, I was expected to stand before the Werewolf Council, smile for the damn cameras, and pretend my life had not fallen apart seven years ago.

I stood on the balcony of the high-rise hotel, overlooking the human coastal city, holding a glass of scotch. Thought after thought about Valeria kept on bombarding me, making the waves below fade into blurriness. Behind me, inside the suite, Cynthia was arguing with the designer.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Cynthia's shrill voice cut through my thoughts, but even then, I didn't turn. "The silver trim is unacceptable!" she shouted. "I specifically requested gold. Gold! How difficult is it to understand simple instructions?"

"Miss Cynthia, the silver complements the dress—"

I don't care what you think compliments it," Cynthia cut the designer off. "This dress is supposed to be for the Council's annual summit gala. Do you understand what this evening means?"

I shook my head and took a slow sip of my drink, one hand resting on the balcony top rail. "Ares," Cynthia called, the sound of her heels clacking against the tiles filling my ears as she approached. The balcony doors slid open, making me sigh even before she started talking.

"The silver makes me look understated, like I am just some ordinary shewolf," she complained.

"Wear whatever you want," I said coldly, tilting the glass of scotch in my hand.

"You haven't even looked at the dress, Ares," she hissed.

I turned briefly. "I have."

"And what do you think?" she pressed.

"It's a dress, Cynthia." I shrugged.

Her mouth fell open slightly. "Sometimes I wonder whether you listen to anything I say," she mumbled.

"Sometimes I wonder whether you ever stop talking," I deadpanned.

Her expression hardened, and with a wave of her hand, she dismissed the designer, then walked closer. "How can I stop talking when all you ever do is stay quiet or give excuses?" she asked.

"Cynthia—"

"No," she cut me off. "We have been engaged for seven years, and everytime I ask about our wedding, you give me another excuse or say nothing at all," she snapped, her voice sharp.

I tightened my hold on the glass. "Then stop asking questions you already know the answers to."

"And what answers are those?" She walked closer. "That you're too busy with border disputes? That another treaty requires you to sign it? Or that suddenly you have a war to deal with whenever we get close to setting a date?"

I said nothing, but she continued anyway. said nothing. "I am beginning to think that my father is right." I raised a brow, while she let out a bitter laugh. "He believes you're keeping me engaged just for his support for the Alpha King throne, without having to fulfil your end of the bargain."

"Your father should concern himself with the Council, not my life."

"He is the chairman of the Council, Ares. His vote could and will decide whether you become the Alpha King." She paused, craning her neck to look at the side of my face. "You should care what he thinks."

I tilted my head and lowered my eyes to hers. "Are you threatening me?" I asked.

"Far from it, darling," she said, her voice instantly shifting into an overly sweet purr. "I am just reminding you of the reality you seem to have forgotten."

Yes, Cynthia was beautiful, ambitious and politically useful. She knew how to command a room, how to flatter the right people and how to turn a simple appearance into a demonstration of power. And yet, whenever she touched me, my wolf not only recoiled but also protested viciously.

"Before I forget," she went on when I didn't say a word. "Dad wants to know whether you've finally settled on a wedding date. Said he will announce it during the summit," she informed.

"Tell him I'll inform him when I decide," I answered.

"I cannot keep giving people that answer, Ares," Cynthia argued.

"Then stop answering for me," I relayed.

She let out a loud breath before lifting her face defiantly. "Whatever your problem is, you need to put it aside today. I will not have you embarrassing me."

"Are you finished?" I asked. Her eyes flashed before she turned sharply and disappeared into the suite. I lowered my eyes and looked down at the dark amber liquid inside the glass, identical to the one I had been holding when Valeria walked into the study all those years ago.

"Goddamn it!" I swore under my breath.

Seven years ago, Valeria had stood in front of me, begging me to choose her. I could still remember the desperate tremble in her voice. In the end, she had walked out of my study.

I found a note on her vanity the following morning. 'Don't look for me' – the four words read. The note was still locked inside my study, hidden in the safe where I kept things I couldn't bring myself to throw away. I had read it so many times that I would remember every curve of her handwriting. But I had never obeyed it.

During the first year, I sent the best trackers to every pack territory we had connections with. I questioned people I never thought I would, and followed every rumour that came my way. Twice, I had thought I had found her. The first lead took me to a small town where a woman matching her description had been seen working at a restaurant. I arrived before dawn, only to discover that she had left weeks earlier.

The second time, my second in command, Darius, had found a record under a name that sounded close enough to hers to make my heart pound. I sent three days following it before discovering the woman was older, mated and married. By the third year, her father blamed me, and I couldn't even defend myself because he was right.

At one point, Darius had confronted me in my office. "She doesn't want to be found," he had said one evening after a report from my men. "Will you ever accept that?"

I had nearly thrown him out of my office through the window, but even beneath the rage, the truth behind his words haunted me. I never answered him. What could I have said? That I knew she had wanted me once? That she begged me in my study to choose her and instead called her a mistake? That she was doing exactly what I had asked her to do? Leave and never come back. Every year that passed made the possibility of finding her feel more remote.

Sometimes, I wondered if she had changed her name. If she had built a life dae away, found a man who made her feel wanted, and forgotten that I had ever existed. My wolf snarled at the thought, making me tighten my free fingers around the balcony railing.

"Fuck!" I swore, pressing my teeth together. I should have chosen her; hell, I should have worshipped the ground she walked on.

My real father had once abandoned my mother to preserve a political alliance. He had married the daughter of a councilman, kicked my mother and me out of the pack and severed ties with us. I had grown up without a father until Valeria's father married my mom after his fated mate, Valeria's mother, passed on. I had sworn I would never become him, that I would never  choose power over love, and yet when Valeria needed me to choose her, I had done  exactly what he did.

"Ares...?" I could hear Cynthia talking, but her voice was fading.

"Are you even listening to me?" Cynthia's voice pulled me out of my thoughts again. She stood by the door, holding her small evening bag. "Come on, you know the Council despises tardiness."

I drank the remaining scotch and set the glass down, barely, feeling the burn as the liquid went down my throat. "Let's go."

The summit was being held at one of the most expensive hotels in the coastal city. Werewolves from powerful packs had travelled from different parts to attend, along with their families, advisers and political allies. To the humans around us, we were simply wealthy guests attending an exclusive event. They had no idea that some of the most dangerous werewolves were roaming their streets.

The hotel lobby opened up to a huge parking lot where our SUV was waiting. The moment we stepped out, Cynthia slipped her arms around mine.

"Remember to smile," she murmured. "You never know who's watching." I was about to tell her that I didn't need lessons on how to behave in public when the wind shifted.

At first, all I caught was the scent of the sea and cheap colognes as the gust swept across.

Beneath it, however, I caught a faint scent that made my entire body freeze—water mint. My heart slammed against my ribs while my wolf surged so violently that pain tore through my chest and across my head. My feet halted, making Cynthia stumble beside me. For one impossible second, I could not breathe. 'No, it couldn't be.' I shook my head.

"Ares? What are you doing?" Cynthia demanded. I couldn't answer, not when my wolf was screaming inside my head.

‘Mate’

I turned towards the wind, my nostrils flaring as I frantically searched the crowd. My eyes then fell on a familiar woman, and I could have sworn my blood ran cold. I barely dared to blink, afraid she would disappear if I looked away. I even rubbed my eyes, trying to convince myself that exhaustion and seven years of longing had finally made me lose my mind.

There, a few yards, by the fountain, was the woman I had not seen for seven good years—Valeria. She was wearing a cream blazer and dark trousers. Hair, cut into an elegant bob, framed a face that was both familiar and painfully changed. There was something about the way she stood, something self-assured in the angle of her shoulders, not the fragile step-sister I knew. Without thinking, I took a step forward, then another. 

"Ares!" Cynthia tugged my arm. "We're going to be late." I pulled my arm free without looking at her, my gaze fixed on Valeria.

After seven years of fruitless searching, she was standing in front of me, alive and close, enough that the wind carried her scent directly into my nostrils. I had imagined this moment a thousand times. In some versions, she ran into my arms. In others, she slapped me and screamed, and in others, she cried. I had prepared myself for anger, for tears, for the possibility that she would refuse to speak to me.

I had prepared myself for almost everything, except the sight of a small boy running toward her.

"Mom!" he called, the word striking me harder than any blow.

Valeria's face lit up as she crouched just in time for the boy to throw his arms around her neck, and a laugh escaped as she hugged him tightly.

"Did you have fun at the beach?" she asked, brushing her hand over his hair. 

"Yes! I even made the sandman," the boy said excitedly.

"Oh wow, my talented handsome boy," Valeria praised, her lips stretching into a radiant smile, one that she had never given me.

He mumbled something that was lost in the breeze, but my mind remained completely stuck. The boy looked around six years old, perhaps a little older. I couldn't take my eyes off him, though I didn't know what I was searching for in his face.

"No," I whispered as my hands began to tremble. She had a child; Valeria actually had a child who called her mom. My wolf went silent; I thought it had finally retreated. Then it erupted, a savage snarl ripping through my chest. It was so violent I barely managed to keep it from escaping my mouth, from terrifying the humans around. My hands curled into fists, and my nails began lengthening to claws until they dug into my skin.

Who is his father? My wolf surged again, vicious and frantic, its fury feeding on an image my mind had no control over. I imagined Valeria in another man's arms, smiling at him, giving him her love. Goddess I wanted to tear the entire beach apart. I wanted to find the man who had touched her, the man who had made her a mother.

"Is that blood?" Cynthia asked, lifting my curled fists. "Ares, you are hurting yourself," she hissed under her breath, still clueless of what was unfolding right before my eyes.

Then, as if feeling my unwavering gaze on her, her head lifted and her gaze found mine. Everything stopped, every voice faded and seven years disappeared in a single heartbeat. I saw the recognition in her eyes, the brief flicker of surprise, before all that evaporated. She did not gasp, stumble or look as though she had seen a ghost; she simply stared at me.

For the first time in seven years, I was standing close enough to see the woman. And I realised that while I had spent seven years searching for Valeria, she might have spent every one of them learning how to live without me.