Page 25

Fuck.

I run a hand down my face and glance at her, curled up on my bed, tangled in my fur coverlet, her breath soft and steady. Colorful pillows surround her, cradling her. Even I am never that comfortable in my own bed.

I sear the image into my mind. Burn it there so I never forget.

Even after the physician leaves, I stay, leaning against the doorframe, watching her.

All my life, I've been taught restraint.

To stay my hand. To want for little. My mother taught me to be a good man, to be a perfect gentleman, to love without expecting anything in return.

My father taught me to be cruel, to take what I wanted without asking, because being an heir meant everything was mine by right.

It was no surprise I took after my mother. She was the more present parent. But that didn't last. Because when two opposing worlds collide, something always breaks.

She left. She just...left.

And I hated her for it. For a long time, I wished she had taken Eric and me with her. Maybe then, I wouldn't have had to witness what it meant to lose everything. Including myself.

Maybe that was where it all began—the refusal to leave.

Because I didn't trust my father to take care of Eric.

Because I refused to follow the path laid out for me.

I wouldn't be like him. I wouldn't be abusive.

I could be impressionable without becoming my father, couldn't I?

Without giving in to the darkness that lurked at the edges of my mind—the same darkness that drove my mother away.

Repress.

Suppress.

Deny.

Everything I've become—it was borne of necessity. When my father died, the only way to protect Eric and Tova was to win the duel. To become Head Alpha. I was thirteen when I took that seat. But in truth, I'd been a killer long before that.

The deaths of the rogues, the spies and trespassers who had a hand in the death of my family was assumed to be an act of vengeance.

I killed them because it expressed strength and bloodthirst, the kind that earned you fear and ensured your enemies stayed in line.

It was all for Eric and Tova. They were the only ones who mattered.

The first decision I ever made for myself was befriending Ronan. And for a long time, I hadn't realized it wasn't me who found him during that Hunt. But he had been positioned right there, already a weapon to be used against us. One I didn't pick up on until years later. Much too late.

It only reinforced what I already knew. That my wants were dangerous. That I should never act purely on desire alone.

Saving Seraphina hadn't been borne by desire alone. It was a necessity. Now, I can't say it is anymore. Keeping her surely wasn't. It's like every urge I've ever suppressed, every emotion I've ever buried—she pulls them from me. Dragging them out, forcing me to acknowledge them.

I want to steal her, rip the rest of what she has to offer the world and keep it to myself. It is sick as fuck, but I never did like sharing.

I want to be cruel if that's what it takes to keep her. Because being a good man has never gotten me anything but used.

Would she fight me when she discovered that she had practically signed her life away that night to me?

The thought scares and arouses me both, the latter only because I knew Seraphina fought wildly.

The only times she ever got to be herself, the primal, feral creature she really is, was when she was unleashed.

I run a hand down my face again and then, I stare. At the wedding band around my finger.

No.

This is the first thing that has ever truly been mine. And I'll fucking keep it that way, consequences be damned.

I let my gaze roam over her. The soft curve of her lips. The delicate lines of her face. The way her thighs and hips shift against the black sheets.

What would it be like to own her? Properly. Completely.

The thought makes my blood heat.

I turn, a sharp, scary smile tilting my lips. Because I finally found it.

Purpose .

I run a finger along Landon's cheek on my way out. He coos, his tiny fingers wrapping around mine. I crouch, watching him sleep.

I want this, too, I decide.

I want everything .

Callahan's waiting outside our bedroom when I step out. He's still in his suit, his eyes hollow and tired. It's a good look on him. The restlessness. The hurt. Oh, but he deserves so much more.

"I didn't know," he says quietly.

I arch a brow. "Eric told you."

His throat bobs. "You saved her. And my son."

Whatever little bubble of joy I felt inside pops loud enough to temporarily deafen me. His son. Was I cruel enough to not consider it? To take away the decision from him or Seraphina when it came to who had the right to call Landon their son?

I might not have sired him, but I'm the reason he's alive. That must count for something. It has to.

"I accept," he rasps suddenly, startling me. "I'll leave Tova behind when I return to the South. I'll have the treaty revised, exactly as you want it. Give Seraphina and Landon to me and you will never hear from me again."

Somehow, I had imagined this moment to be grander. Eric would fucking love this. But the moment doesn't feel triumphant. It feels hollow.

I should be pleased. But I'm not.

Because I want him to suffer.

But I also want her .

I cock my head and slip my hands into my pockets in a semblance of calm. I let the silence stretch until it aches. "That won't be enough."

His head jerks. Shock and disbelief flicker in his eyes like a dying flame. "What more do you want?"

The noose tightens around my neck, but I say it anyway.

"I want more acres in the South. The mines.

The airspaces your father cherished so much.

The estates you hide in the East." I step closer.

"I want your seat. Your legacy. Your life.

And while you're at it, I want you to grovel.

Apologize for the lives you took in that fire.

I want you to kneel in shame and publicly announce what you have done. "

He pales and I smile, my canines grazing my teeth. "Do that and you have my word that Seraphina and Landon will be returned to the Red Wolf Pack."

Ronan shuffles closer, tilting his head to reveal the murderous glint in his eyes. "You do not want to start this fight. Believe me."

I chuckle, clapping his shoulder. "You would be very surprised."

"You have no use for her," he seethes as I turn to walk away. "Holding a helpless woman hostage to get back at me? That's a new low, even for you. Seraphina did nothing wrong. My son is innocent. Don't bring them into this."

My muscles twitch. His son.

I glance at him over my shoulder. "Her innocence has nothing to do with her usefulness to me.

If she is the key to acquiring everything I want, then I will keep her, use her until you have nothing left to give.

" My voice turns soft, mocking. "It was easier than I thought it would be.

Taking something of yours and molding it to my liking.

Tell me, how does it feel knowing she spends her nights in my bed, her days pining after me?

Did it kill you, hearing her moan for me on the terrace tonight? "

His aura fills the hallway, dark, lined with streaks of red. The color of murder. I think he might go for it and charge at me like he did many years ago. I anticipate it. Can almost smell his blood and fear when he realizes I will not hold back this time and finish what I started back then.

He thinks better of it, though his shoulders tremble with restrained rage. "You always were your father's son. So desperate to win that you would ruin the one good thing in your life. We are alike in that respect, are we not?"

I stiffen at the old jab. My expression remains one of nonchalance, but he's hit me in a sore spot. One I have yet to heal from.

He leaves me with those words and for some reason, I do not feel like I have won a single thing.