Dante's POV
The deal in front of me is worth three million dollars, and all I can think about is how my wife's hand felt on my shoulder this morning.
Soft. Gentle. Like she still believes touching me might mean something.
I sign the deal with more force than necessary. Business. Focus on business. That's what Alphas do. That's what keeps packs strong.
"Alpha?" Marcus knocks on my office door, already looking at me like I've failed him. My Beta has mastered that expression over the past seven years. "The birthday party preparations—" "I know. " I don't look up from the papers. "Noon. I'll be there."
"Will you?" Marcus steps inside, closing the door. "Because you missed Lyra's performance last month. And her parent-teacher meeting. And—"
"I sent Isla." "Lyra asked for her father. " Something uncomfortable twists in my chest. I ignore it the way I ignore everything that feels too much like weakness. " Isla is perfectly capable of handling a seven-year-old's birthday party. She's the Luna. It's her job."
Marcus is quiet for a long moment. "Is that what you think being a mate is? A job?"
"It's what being an Alpha is." I finally meet his eyes. "You know what happened to my father. Everyone does. He loved my mother so much he ignored danger to the pack. Nearly lost everything because he couldn't think straight when she was involved. That's not strength, Marcus. That's death."
"Your father made mistakes, but—"
"But nothing. " I stand, needing to move, needing this talk to end. "I learned from his mistakes. Emotion clouds perception. Attachment makes you weak. I provide for Isla and the cubs. I protect them. That's love."
"No, Dante. That's job." Marcus's speech is quiet but cuts deep. "And there's a difference."
He leaves before I can reply. Good. I don't have time for philosophical discussions about feelings.
My phone buzzes. Serena's name shows on the screen: Border clearing. One hour. It's important.
I should tell Isla I'm going. That's what a good mate would do.
But I look out my office window and see her in the yard with Lyra, my daughter's face bright with laughter as Isla adjusts a flower crown on her silver-blonde head. They look great together. Like a picture of happiness I don't know how to be part of.
I'm not good at softness. At joy. At whatever makes my daughter look at her mother like she hung the moon.
So I do what I'm good at. I leave.
The border clearing is where we handle secret pack business away from curious ears. Serena is already waiting when I arrive, her golden hair catching the morning light. She's been my friend since we were cubs, the one wolf who understands that feelings are liabilities.
"This better be important," I say. "It's Lyra's birthday."
"It is." Serena's face is serious. "I've been tracking those rogues near the eastern border like you asked. Dante, they're not just passing through. They're organizing."
My wolf perks up. This is what I understand—threats, strategy, defense. Not birthday parties and flower hats.
"How many?"
"At least twenty. Maybe more." She hands me surveillance pictures. "They're angry about the area expansion last year. They think you're pushing too far into neutral lands."
She's right. I did push. That's what strong Alphas do—expand, control, never show weakness.
"We'll need to increase border patrols," I say, already planning. "Double the guards on the eastern perimeter—" "Dante." Serena's hand touches my arm. "You can't do everything alone. You carry this pack on your shoulders like Atlas carrying the world. You need someone who understands that load."
I look at her hand on my arm. I should move away. But Serena gets it. She doesn't ask me to feel things I can't feel. She doesn't look at me with hope that slowly dies year after year. " Isla understands, " I hear myself say, though I'm not sure why I'm defending my mate. "Does she?" Serena steps closer. "Or does she just accept whatever crumbs you give her because the mate bond tells her to? That's not partnership, Dante. That's... pity."
The word hits wrong. I don't want Isla's pity. I don't want anyone's pity.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you deserve someone who pushes you. Who stands beside you as an equal, not a pet you keep fed and protected." Her green eyes hold mine. "Someone who chose you, not someone the Moon Goddess forced on you."
"The mate bond isn't force—"
"Isn't it?" Serena's voice drops. "Tell me honestly. If you weren't mated to Isla, would you have picked her? A packless she-wolf with no ties, no power, nothing but a pretty face and devotion you don't even want?"
I open my mouth to argue. To protect my mate. To say something that proves Serena wrong.
But the words don't come.
Because the truth is, I didn't choose Isla. The Moon Goddess did. And I've spent seven years treating our bond like a duty because that's what it feels like. An obligation I complete with the same efficiency I handle pack business.
"I need to get back," I finally say. "The party—"
"Kieran's waiting for you," Serena interrupts. "I brought him with me. He wanted to see where Daddy works."
My son steps out from behind a tree, his small face lighting up when he sees me. "Daddy!"
Pride rushes through me. My boy. My child. He looks just like me—dark hair, gray eyes, the Blackthorn blood running strong.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, softer than I usually speak.
"Mama Serena said we could surprise you!" Kieran grabs Serena's hand like it's the most normal thing in the world. "She makes the best pancakes, Daddy. Even better than—"
He stops, his face scrunching like he's trying to remember something tough.
"Better than who?" I ask.
"I don't know." Kieran looks confused. "There's someone else. Someone who sings. But Mama Serena says I'm just remembering dreams."
Mama Serena.
The words sit in my brain like stones. When did Kieran start calling her that?
"Dante." Serena's voice is soft. "Kids get confused. He knows Isla is his real mother. But he also knows who actually takes care of him when you're busy. Who reads him stories and wipes his tears and—"
"Isla does that."
"Does she?" Serena tilts her head. "When was the last time you saw her do it? You're always working. You don't actually know what happens in your own home."
She's wrong. She has to be wrong. Isla is... Isla is a good mother. Everyone says so. The pack omegas admire how she handles the cubs.
But I realize I can't remember the last time I actually watched Isla with our children. I'm always in my office. Always dealing pack business. Always doing what Alphas are meant to do.
"I should take Kieran back," I say, reaching for my son.
"Actually," Serena laughs, "I was hoping to keep him a bit longer. We're having such fun together. Unless you want to bring him to a party full of screaming seven-year-olds?"
Kieran's face falls. "I want to stay with Mama Serena."
And there it is again. Mama Serena.
I should correct him. Should tell him that Isla is his mother, not Serena.
But Serena's words echo in my head: You don't actually know what happens in your own home.
"Fine," I say. "But have him back before dark."
I'm halfway back to the pack house when my phone explodes with texts.
Marcus: Where are you?
Marcus: Dante, answer your phone.
Marcus: Isla knows.
My wolf freezes. Knows what?
I call Marcus, my hand suddenly shaky. "What's going on?"
"Your mate just ran into the forest." Marcus's voice is tight with anger—anger directed at me, which never happens. " She found the bank records for Serena's property. She found the papers. Dante, she knows you've been—"
"I haven't been doing anything wrong." But my voice sounds guarded even to my own ears. "Serena is my friend. The land is for pack security—"
"Then why does it look like you're hiding a second family?" Marcus interrupts. "Why are you paying for her housing? Her food? Her clothes? While your actual mate plans birthday parties alone?"
"That's not—" I stop. Because how does it look? Six years of payments. Secret talks. Her perfume in my office.
Oh gods.
"Where's Isla now?" I ask, already running.
"Border clearing. Dante, I tried to stop her, but—" I don't hear the rest. I'm already moving, my wolf pushing me faster than I've run in years.
I reach the clearing just as Isla's scent hits me—pain, betrayal, fear so thick I can taste it.
And I see her.
My mate. My Luna. Standing frozen at the edge of the woods, her ice-blue eyes locked on Serena.
On me.
On our boy in Serena's arms, calling her Mommy.
"Isla—" I start.
But the look on her face stops my heart.
It's not anger. Not tears. Not even pain.
It's nothing. Absolute, frightening nothing.
Like something inside her just died, and I'm only now realizing I killed it.