Page 30

His father hadn't spoken a word to him the day of the fight.

Not during meals. Not in passing.

Not even when Astrid returned from the healer's building with blood on her sleeves and fury in her eyes.

It was only the following morning that the summons came.

The longhouse was quiet.

But the tension in the air was thick, like the pause before a lightning strike.

Hagan stepped inside.

Veyr and Dain were already there, standing near the far wall.

Dain didn't look at him.

Veyr did.

Draken stood in the centre of the room, his arms crossed, his golden eyes blazing.

When he spoke, his voice was like a raging forest fire burning everything in its path.

"You maimed your future fated. You disgraced yourself."

The words hit like a strike to the chest.

But Hagan said nothing.

Because every word was true.

"You are going to be Highclaw someday. How could you...How, Hagan, How?"

His father exhaled, long and slow .

He lowered himself into the chair behind him and, for the first time Hagan could remember, Draken looked ...aged.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and covered his face with his hands, dragging them down a moment later, leaving his expression bare.

"Hagan..."

His voice was quieter now.

"I don't know what to do."

That stunned Hagan more than any shouting could have. His dad always knew what to do.

"I'm trying—gods, I'm trying—to do what's best. For the tribe. For you."

His eyes lifted to his son's face.

" I don't think that's Lia. But I can be wrong. I have been wrong before."

Hagan swallowed hard.

His fists clenched at his sides.

Draken looked at him with a weariness that didn't come from age but from disappointment.

"Can you at least try to get to know Seren? Try to understand her? The bond exists for a reason."

Behind him, Dain shifted uncomfortably, not quite so cocky anymore, the bruise from his defeat by Seren still faintly visible at his jaw.

Veyr stood motionless, arms crossed.

Hagan was silent for a moment like he was gathering his confused thoughts .

"I didn't mean to hurt her," he'd said hoarsely. "I lost control."

Draken's disappointment was punishment enough.

"Your handfasting to Seren is to be held at sixteen. The fates have decreed that you belong to her. And she to you."

Hagan swallowed hard.

"I'll try to be better," he muttered. "I will."

Draken gave him a long look.

"And Lia?"

Hagan hesitated.

He thought of Lia's hands, her voice when she was kind, the dark edge in her gaze when she looked at Seren.

He thought of the stories she had told him of her past—the hurt, the way she clung to him like he was the only safe place left.

"She needs someone," he said finally. "I don't want to abandon her."

Draken's expression didn't change.

"And Seren?"

That was the harder question.

Because what he felt for Seren wasn't the same as the fondness and protectiveness he felt for Lia.

It was something else.

Something that made his chest ache and his pulse skip when she looked at him, even in anger.

Something that made the air between them feel charged, like a storm always waiting to break .

"Lia's... beautiful," he murmured. "And I care about her. But..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't have to.

His father was a wolf too. He knew.

"You'll be sixteen in less than two years," Draken said. "Figure it out before then."

Veyr had stood motionless , arms crossed, gaze sharp.

He hadn't said a word—until now.

His voice was calm, even, but there was weight behind it.

"She's the bravest girl I've ever seen."

Both Hagan and Dain turned toward him.

"She stood her ground. Took a beating. Didn't cry. Didn't back down. Even against an Alphablood."

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes on Hagan.

"If you can't see her worth, Alphason... there are others who will."

The words dropped into the room like a stone into still water.

Hagan stiffened.

His jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Dain glanced between them, as if unsure about what just happened.

Veyr didn't look away. It was difficult to hold the gaze of an Alpha blood for long, but he didn't look away. He meant it. Every word.

And Hagan —

He hated it.

He hated the idea of someone else seeing Seren.

Touching her hand.

He hated how the image rose in his mind unbidden—Seren looking at Veyr the way she looked at him, with longing as if he had hung the moon. Those looks were slowly fading into the ether due to his indifference and cruelty.

Draken watched it all, silent and sharp-eyed.

He saw the muscle working in Hagan's jaw.

The way his fists curled at his sides.

The flicker of something dark and hot behind his eyes.

And he said nothing.

Veyr had been there outside the healer's building.

He'd sat beneath the tree, unmoving, while they set Seren's bone.

He hadn't meant to listen but he had heard.

He'd heard every word, the way she refused to cry, even as her skin tore and the bone was pushed back beneath it, the sound of her breath hitching as they wrapped her arm.

Not a cry.

Not a sob.

Until the Oracle came. He'd heard her voice through the open window, soft and broken.

"Why, Seren? Why did you challenge him? He could have killed you."

Silence.

Then —

A whisper.

Almost too faint to catch.

"I wish he had."

"I wish I were dead... I want to go home. I want to see my mamma. I don't want to be here anymore. Everyone hates me."

Veyr had closed his eyes.

It felt like someone had placed a stone in his chest.

The Oracle's voice was soft as if speaking to a child stuck in a nightmare.

"It will get better, child. I promise."

Astrid hadn't spoken to Hagan all day.

Not after the fight.

Not after the blood.

Not after Garrik carried Seren away and she had to follow, helpless, furious, heart aching.

She had passed him in the halls like he was a stranger.

Not cruel.

Just... silent.

But that night, long after Draken's words had settled like a heavy weight in his chest, Hagan lay curled in bed, facing the wall, limbs tense and throat tight.

He heard the door creak open softly.

The scent of wild herbs and clean skin drifted in before she even spoke .

"Scooch over."

He didn't argue.

Just moved aside.

She lay down next to him like she used to when he was little, before the tribe expected him to be their next Highclaw, before handfastings and responsibilities and cruel things said out of pride.

Her arm curled beneath her head, and she stared at the ceiling.

"What happened, Hagan?"

His chest swelled.

He pressed his lips together.

His throat burned.

"I felt... trapped," he admitted at last, voice thick.

"I didn't mean to hurt her. I just—Lia—"

He stopped.

Astrid waited.

She always had patience like the sea.

"I feel like I'm letting Lia down. She's been through so much. She needs someone."

There was silence.

And then Astrid spoke, her voice quiet, warm, edged with memory.

"Your father wasn't always interested in me, you know."

Hagan blinked.

"Really?"

She nodded .

"He had another love, once. Before me. Someone who... hurt him. Betrayed the tribe."

"But you and Dad—"

"Weren't always in love," she finished. "It started almost like an arrangement. I was chosen. I had the sight. I was a good match. But love... that came later. Now?"

She smiled faintly.

"He'd burn the world down for me."

Hagan stared at the ceiling. His chest still ached, but a different kind of ache now.

"Lia is a nice girl, Hagan," Astrid said gently. "But you're young. You don't owe your whole life to someone just because you care about their pain."

She turned to him, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"Don't make decisions in haste, and don't live in 'what ifs'. You'll never be free if you do."

He nodded, just once.

She reached out, pulling him gently against her chest, holding him like she had when he'd scraped his knees or had nightmares.

And for a moment—

Just a moment—

He felt like her little boy again.

Her fingers stroked his hair, her other hand curved around his back.

She said nothing more.

Just held him.

And though she pretended not to notice, she felt the way his chest hitched .

She felt his tears.

And didn't say a word.