Breakfast: James’ Perspective

I pace the length of the guest room, five steps in one direction before the wall forces me to turn, five steps back. The space feels like a cage, though it's more luxurious than anything I've slept in since fleeing the Council. My muscles ache from days of running, from shifting back and forth between forms as I tracked Sophia's scent across territories. But it's the hollow pain in my chest that keeps me moving, the void where Lora's presence used to hum, warm and constant. Twenty-four years of having her in my mind, and now there's only silence.

A knock at the door interrupts my circuit. I pause, nostrils flaring as I catch an unfamiliar female scent.

"Enter," I call, straightening my shoulders by instinct, the Beta's posture I wore for two decades before becoming this hollow-eyed rogue.

The door opens to reveal a petite blonde woman with efficient movements and watchful eyes. She carries a stack of neatly folded clothing.

"James Blackwood?" she asks, though we both know it's just formality. "I'm Lyra Silverstone, Pack Gamma. Alpha Thorne asked me to provide you with fresh clothing and escort you to breakfast."

Her eyes assess me clinically, taking in my disheveled appearance with neither judgment nor sympathy. Just another task to be completed.

"Thank you," I manage, accepting the clothes with a nod.

"I'll wait outside," she says, turning to leave before pausing. "There's a shower through that door. Alpha Thorne values punctuality."

The door clicks shut behind her. I strip quickly, stepping into the adjoining bathroom. The hot water is a luxury I haven't had in days, but I rush through the shower, aware of Lyra waiting. The clothes fit well enough, dark jeans and a gray henley, simple but good quality. Nothing like the Beta's uniform I wore for so many years, with its subtle symbols of rank and authority.

When I step into the hallway, Lyra nods approvingly. "This way. Alpha Thorne's office is on the other side of the main house."

I follow her through a maze of corridors, trying to map the layout in my head. The Midnight Eclipse pack house is massive, a fortress of stone and timber that speaks to generations of wealth and power. Pack members we pass lower their eyes respectfully to Lyra, while casting curious glances at me. The strange wolf in their midst, father to their Alpha's new mate.

Mate. The word catches in my throat like a bone. My daughter, claimed against her will by one of the most feared alphas in the region. The alternative, the Council's auction block, was worse, but not by much. Either way, Sophia's freedom was the price.

As we approach what must be Zane's office, voices filter through the heavy wooden door, sharp, angry, unmistakably an argument. Sophia's voice rises above the deeper rumble of Zane's.

"—not a child to be ordered around! I'm supposedly your mate, not your subordinate!"

"You deliberately undermined me in front of my pack," Zane's voice responds, controlled but edged with ice. "That cannot happen again."

"So I should have just sat there while you kept me from my father? The father I thought was dead?"

"I would have brought him to you after—"

"After what? After you'd established dominance? After you'd reminded him and me of our place in your perfect little hierarchy?"

Lyra clears her throat loudly, a warning to the arguing couple that they're about to have company. The voices fall silent immediately. Just before Lyra knocks, I catch Sophia's final words, low and cutting:

"You call yourself my mate, Zane, but mates don't try to control mates."

My chest tightens with pride even as worry gnaws at my gut. My stubborn, fierce girl, standing up to an Alpha even with his claiming mark on her neck. Lora would be so proud.

Lyra knocks sharply, then opens the door without waiting for a response. "Alpha, I've brought James Blackwood as requested."

I step into the office, instantly taking in the room's dimensions, the exits, the potential weapon, instincts honed by decades as a Beta responsible for pack security.

Zane Thorne sits behind a massive desk of dark wood, his posture rigid with barely contained tension. Sophia sits in a chair beside him, her eyes red-rimmed but chin lifted in defiance.

When she sees me, her face transforms, grief and joy warring across her features. "May I stand to greet my father, oh wise Alpha?" she asks Zane, the sarcasm in her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Without waiting for his response, she rises and crosses the room to me. I enfold her in my arms, breathing in her scent, changed now, marked by the Alpha's claim, but still unmistakably my daughter. "My girl," I murmur against her hair. "My brave girl."

She pulls back, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I can't believe you're really here."

"Wild wolves couldn't keep me away," I tell her, the truth of it bone-deep.

A throat clears behind us. "If you're quite finished," Zane says, his voice deceptively casual, "breakfast is being served."

As if summoned, two pack members enter carrying trays laden with food; pastries, fruit, meats, and coffee. The scent of fresh bread makes my stomach growl embarrassingly loud.

Sophia returns to her seat, and I take the chair opposite Zane's desk. The Alpha watches us both with narrowed eyes, studying our interaction like a scientist might observe an experiment.

"Eat," he commands, gesturing to the food. It's not a suggestion.

I select a pastry and some meat, conscious of appearing grateful for the hospitality while not seeming too eager. Sophia picks at a piece of fruit, her appetite clearly diminished by the tension in the room.

"What happened, pup?" I ask her quietly. "How did you end up here, of all places?"

She rubs her face, suddenly looking exhausted. "I got lost after crossing the border. I was trying to reach the safe house, but the Council trackers were close." She motions toward Zane. "He found me as I jumped that river at the bottom of the mountain. The Council came for me yesterday."

My eyes drop again to the claiming mark on her neck, visible above the collar of her shirt. Dark, permanent, a declaration to any wolf who sees her that she belongs to Zane Thorne. My stomach sinks, a physical manifestation of my failure. I wasn't fast enough. I didn't get to her in time. I couldn't save her from being claimed against her will.

I meet Zane's eyes across the desk, keeping my expression neutral while inside, Lyall snarls with protective rage. This wolf has marked my daughter, my child, without her consent. But he's also keeping her from the Council. For now, that has to be enough.

"Thank you for finding her," I force myself to say, the words bitter on my tongue. "And for allowing me into your territory."