Chapter 61

The child’s laughter cut through the air like sunlight through fog—bright, piercing, utterly disarming. I hadn’t heard anything like it in years.

It came from Sofia. My Sofia.

The name echoed through me like a wound reopening and refusing to heal.

From my place beneath the old oak at the edge of the garden, I watched her spin with a paper crown sliding sideways on her curls. The late afternoon sun caught her hair, turning it into gold fire, while frosting smeared her cheeks like battle paint. She was radiant, wild, a creature of joy that didn’t know the world had teeth.

And standing beside her—pretending this was his world—was him, Kevin.

The scent of him didn’t belong here. It was polished and sterile, too perfect, like a man trying to scrub away the stench of guilt. He crouched next to Sofia, helping her tie a bow on a half-wrapped gift, his smile wide enough to hurt. The crowd cooed. The women at the table sighed.

He was performing.

For them. For her. For me.

I hadn’t intended to come to this ridiculous celebration. “The twins’ small birthday gathering,” Dan had called it, as though my absence wouldn’t matter. But when I’d heard the sound of Sofia’s laugh echoing across the courtyard, something primal in me had moved before logic could intervene.

Now I stood here, half in shadow, half in shame, watching what should have been my family—our family—circling a cake I didn’t bake, gifts I didn’t wrap, candles I hadn’t lit.

Carl sat off to the side, fiddling with a carved wooden dragon. He held it delicately, tracing its scales with small, serious fingers. My gift. He didn’t know.

He looked so much like I had at that age, too old in the eyes and too quiet for the world around him. When he finally looked up, our gazes collided across the distance.

For a heartbeat, the noise faded. The laughter dimmed. All I saw was him. All I felt was the unmistakable tug of blood calling to blood.

Then he looked away.

The rejection landed in my chest like a blade.

Norman growled in the back of my mind. He doesn’t know what we are to him. But he feels it. He feels us.

I ignored the wolf, stepping out of the shade. The motion drew eyes instantly; it always did. Even surrounded by ribbons and children’s laughter, I carried the scent of command, of storms. The guards straightened. The guests fell silent.

And then there was Esther.

She froze when she saw me, mid-laugh, the color draining from her face before she forced it back with a practiced smile. Time folded in on itself for a heartbeat.

Every memory—the night I’d lost her, the lies, the ache, the years of silence—collapsed into that single look.

She was different now. Softer at the edges, harder at the core. A woman forged in fear and fury.

Still, my pulse obeyed her.

Kevin noticed my arrival a second later. His smile tightened, polite as a knife.

“Alpha,” he greeted, standing to his full height. “Didn’t expect you’d join us. It’s a family occasion.”

I smiled back, slow and cutting. “Then it’s a good thing I’m family, isn’t it?”

His eyes flashed.

Esther stepped quickly between us, her voice careful. “Nicholas, this is not—”

“I know who he is,” I interrupted. “The man who can’t stop orbiting what doesn’t belong to him.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the birds seemed to pause.

Kevin’s jaw worked, but his tone stayed smooth. “I’m here for the children. Not to indulge your insecurities.”

I tilted my head. “Is that what this is? Altruism? Funny, I didn’t realize fatherhood was a hobby one could borrow.”

Esther’s voice sharpened. “Nicholas, enough.”

“Why?” I said, voice deceptively soft. “He’s already playing house. Shouldn’t we call the performance what it is?”

“Enough!” she snapped, louder this time. The sound cracked through the party like lightning. “Both of you. This is their day.”

For a moment, I almost apologized. Almost.

Then Kevin laid his hand on her shoulder.

The motion was small, harmless, but to Norman, it was a declaration of war.

He touches what’s ours. My wolf lunged inside me, a ripple of heat and fury flooding my veins. I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white.

Before the tension could erupt, Sofia’s small voice pierced through it like a bell.

“Cake time!” she chirped, clapping her sticky hands. “Please?”

Esther turned to her daughter with a trembling smile. “Yes, sweetheart. Cake time.”

The storm retreated by inches.

For the next several minutes, I stood on the outskirts as the crowd pretended nothing had happened. Children laughed. Candles flickered. Kevin made sure to slice the first piece himself, handing it to Sofia as though he’d invented kindness.

I stayed silent, watching. My silence was its own weapon.

Sofia darted toward me then, a plate in her small hands.

“You have to eat it,” she said seriously. “I made that part!”

The cake was lopsided, melting, and covered in what looked suspiciously like glitter.

I arched a brow. “You’re sure it’s safe?”

Her gasp was instant, scandalized. “I only dropped it once!”

A startled laugh escaped me before I could stop it. The sound felt foreign in my mouth, like an artifact of another man’s life.

Esther’s head snapped toward me. For a fleeting heartbeat, her expression softened, some memory flickering behind her eyes, but then the shutters came down again.

Carl hovered at the edge of the table, watching. His shoulders were tense, defensive.

But when I crouched to his level and murmured, “Did you like the dragon?” his expression cracked.

He hesitated. Then gave a small nod. “It’s… cool.”

I blinked. “Cool.”

“Yeah. It breathes smoke.”

“It does,” I said, a ghost of a smile tugging at my mouth. “That’s the best part.”

He looked down, cheeks flushing, pretending to adjust the toy. But his grip softened.

Norman purred. See? Ours.

Kevin was watching from across the table, every muscle in his jaw clenched. He looked like a man whose carefully built stage was being dismantled plank by plank.

Good.

As the sun dipped and the lanterns flickered to life, the crowd began to thin. Parents gathered their yawning pups, servants cleared plates, and soon it was only us, the wreckage of confetti and half-eaten cake littering the table like battlefield remnants.

Kevin lingered, of course. The performer couldn’t resist one last bow.

He waited until Esther sent the children inside before approaching me.

“You should go,” he said quietly. “You’ve made your presence known. Congratulations.”

I smiled without warmth. “And you should learn your place.”

He laughed softly. “You really think she’ll ever let you near them again after what you did?”

“That’s not your concern.”

He leaned closer, voice low and venomous. “You don’t know how to love gently, Nicholas. That’s why she left.”

The words hit harder than I expected. For a flicker of a second, I saw Esther on that night years ago, eyes wide, tears glinting, my own voice breaking with words I couldn’t take back.

Kevin stepped away before I could reply, his expression victorious in that quiet, smug way cowards often have.

Esther emerged a moment later, guiding Sofia by the hand while Carl trudged behind. Neither child looked at me, but Sofia waved faintly before disappearing through the doorway.

The light from the windows caught Esther’s face for a brief, fragile second. Our eyes met across the courtyard.

No hatred. No forgiveness. Just an aching, impossible in-between.

Then she turned away, and the door closed.

I stood alone among the dying lanterns, the laughter still echoing faintly like ghosts of something I’d never quite held.

Norman’s voice rolled through me, low and savage. You’re losing them.

“I know.”

Then claim them.

I stared at the darkened windows where my family, my blood, slept.

Sofia’s laughter still rang in my ears. Carl’s hesitant thank you replayed in my mind like a heartbeat. Esther’s steady voice whispering bedtime stories to them drifted faintly through the glass.

“I can’t claim them through fear,” I murmured. “Not again.”

You’re growing soft, Norman snarled. They’ll forget you.

“Maybe,” I said. “But they’ll be safe.”

The wolf’s reply was a growl that rippled through every muscle in my body. Claim your family or lose them forever.

The words lingered long after his voice faded, sinking into the cracks of my resolve.

I turned toward the path leading back to the palace, the night air cool against my face, the smell of sugar and smoke clinging to my clothes.

Behind me, the laughter of children, their laughter, rose faintly one last time before the windows went dark.

I walked into the shadows, carrying that sound like a promise I wasn’t yet brave enough to keep.

But I would be.

Soon.