Page 33

"I've made a lot of mistakes, Luna," he begins, his voice low and serious.

"Five years ago, I chose what I thought was my duty over what I knew in my heart was right.

I let my father's expectations and pack politics dictate my actions, and I hurt you in the process.

" He meets my eyes directly. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I've regretted it every day since. "

The raw honesty in his voice catches me off guard. This is not the diplomatic Alpha speaking, but the man—the one I glimpsed in private moments before everything fell apart.

"When you left Silvercreek," he continues, "something in me broke.

I told myself it was for the best, that you deserved better than a life of sideways glances and whispered comments.

But the truth is, I was a coward. I didn't fight for you because I was afraid to challenge the system I'd been raised to inherit. "

"You were twenty," I say softly, surprised to find myself offering him grace I'd withheld for years. "With a thousand years of pack tradition on your shoulders."

"That's no excuse." He shakes his head. "I knew what was right. I just didn't have the courage to do it." His hand moves tentatively toward mine, pausing just short of touching. "Then you came back, and something in me recognized the second chance, even if I didn't know how to take it."

I look down at his outstretched hand, then slowly place mine in it. His fingers curl around mine, warm and steady.

"When I saw you pinned beneath that Cheslem Alpha," he says, voice dropping to a near-whisper, "I thought I'd lost my chance forever.

And when you cried out about the baby...

" He draws a shaky breath. "In that moment, everything became crystal clear.

Nothing matters more to me than you and our child.

Not the pack, not tradition, not anything. "

"Nic..." I begin, not sure what to say.

"I understand why you didn't tell me," he interrupts gently. "I'd given you no reason to trust me with something so precious. But Luna—" His free hand moves hesitantly toward my stomach, hovering questioningly. "—I want to be worthy of that trust now."

I nod wordlessly, guiding his hand to rest against my abdomen. Something shifts in his expression as he makes the connection—physical proof of the child we've created.

"I can feel it," he murmurs, wonder in his voice. "Not movement, but... something. A signature, like your magic, but different. Ours."

The simple word—ours—unlocks something I've kept carefully guarded since returning to Silvercreek. Tears, well, unexpectedly, spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them.

"Hey," Nic says softly, alarmed. His hand leaves my stomach to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away tears. "What's wrong?"

"I never thought this would be possible," I admit, voice catching. "Coming back here, I expected rejection, not... this. Whatever this is."

"This," he says carefully, "is me trying to show you I've changed. That I want to build something real with you—not because of pack law or the lottery or even the baby, but because you're Luna Morgan, and I've never stopped—"

He cuts himself off, perhaps aware that some words can't be rushed.

I search his face for any hint of the calculation or duty-bound resignation I'd feared. Instead, I find only sincerity and something warmer, something that makes my heart beat faster despite my best efforts to remain detached.

"I'm afraid," I whisper, offering him honesty in return for his. "Not just of you, but of myself. Of wanting this too much and having it fall apart again. I've worked so hard to be independent, to not need anyone or anything from Silvercreek."

"I know," he acknowledges. "And I'm not asking you to give up who you've become. You're stronger now, more confident. I see that, and I admire it." His thumb strokes my cheek again. "I'm just asking for a chance to show you that Silvercreek can be different. That I can be different."

"And the bonding ceremony?" I ask, the question that's been hanging over us since I passed the final trial. "It's in three days."

"It can wait," he says firmly. "Until you're ready. Until you're sure. I’ll make them delay it. God knows we’ve got an excuse now, with all of this. We all need time to recover.”

The gesture—offering to delay what pack law and tradition demand—speaks volumes about how much he's changed. Five years ago, Nic Blackwood would never have put personal feelings above pack protocol.

"Thank you," I whisper, the knot in my chest loosening slightly.

"Can I hold you?" he asks, the question careful, leaving space for my refusal.

I hesitate only briefly before nodding. Nic moves carefully, mindful of my injuries, as he shifts to lie beside me on the narrow bed.

His arm slides around my shoulders, drawing me against his chest with gentle pressure.

I let myself be held, surprised at how right it feels to rest my head against his shoulder.

"We'll figure this out," he murmurs against my hair. "All of it—the pack, the baby, us. Together."

"Together," I echo, the word both a promise and a test.

His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, a rhythm that once meant safety, home, love. Maybe it can again. The thought terrifies and comforts in equal measure.

We lie in silence for a while, the quiet broken only by the soft beeping of monitors and our synchronized breathing. Gradually, I feel the tension seeping from my muscles, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that even eighteen hours of sleep hasn't erased.

"Rest," Nic says softly, sensing my fatigue. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"You should rest too," I murmur, already feeling sleep pulling at me. "You're injured."

"I will," he promises. "Right here, if that's okay with you."

I nod against his chest, too tired to analyze whether this is wise.

In this moment, after everything we've been through, all I want is the comfort of his arms around me, the security of knowing our child is safe, the hope that maybe—just maybe—we can build something stronger from the ashes of what was broken.

As I drift toward sleep, I find myself thinking of the mating ceremony. Nic said it could wait until I'm ready, a concession I appreciate more than he knows. But as his arm tightens slightly around me, as his breath stirs my hair, I wonder if I'll want to wait as long as I thought.

Some bonds, it seems, have already begun to heal.