Then his features softened. The hard Alpha lines eased, his eyes crinkled, and a smile—rare, real—broke through.
He pulled me into a firm embrace, his familiar scent of ironwood and storm magic surrounding me. The pat on my back felt like absolution.
“Took you long enough, Isolde.” His voice was still gruff, still protective, still his.
He kept an arm around me as we entered the stronghold’s grand hall. Moon-crystal chandeliers cast shimmering patterns across the marble floor. Nothing had changed.
“Do you realize, Isolde?” Father said as he guided me toward his study, “our kind doesn’t treat legacy lightly. It’s blood. It’s magic. It’s destiny.”
His hand tightened on my shoulder. “No wolf escapes it. Never truly. My father taught me this, and so did my grandfather to him.”
“I know. I finally do.” The words came easier as we reached the study. Mother settled beside me on the plush fur-lined couch, her hand finding mine.
“Tell us everything,” Father said, lowering himself into his ironwood chair. “In past five years…”
I inhaled shakily. “I wanted a normal wolf’s life. And Axton seemed… perfect. Strong, charming. So we decided to bounded under the Moon Oath, started a life together, until life slapped me with hard truth.”
“What happened that change your mind?” Mother asked gently.
“Everything.” My voice trembled. “He’s been bedding his Beta assistant for months. And that’s not even the worst—” I swallowed. “Two years ago, when I became pregnant… he pushed me into ending the pregnancy. Said it wasn’t the right choice. And all along, he was already betraying me.”
Father surged to his feet, fury rippling off him like crackling magic. He pulled out his communicator. “That mongrel! I’ll have him and that she-wolf erased from the map by dawn.”
“No.” I rose, shoulders squared, something ancient awakening inside me. “I left the Rustpire Pack for him. That was my choice. My big mistake.”
My voice sharpened like a blade. “So I’ll handle this myself. And this time—” A cold smile curved my lips. “I’ll deal with them as Isolde Rustpire. Not Isolde of Axton’s pack.”
Father paused. Looked at me. And something shifted—recognition, pride, acceptance of the heir standing before him. He lowered the communicator.
“Sounds make sense.” He nodded once, deliberate. “This is your battle. But keep in mind—”