Chapter 17 #2
“I don't give a fuck about traditions.” Damien's grip tightens on mine. “She doesn't leave my sight. Not with Lockhart's people still out there. Where she goes, I go. End of fucking story.”
Hudson's face flushes red, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For a heartbeat, I think he might actually strike his son. The alpha power radiating from both men makes my wolf whimper and press closer to my ribs, recognizing the danger crackling between them.
“Fine,” Hudson says through gritted teeth. “But you'll both be present for the pack meeting tomorrow night. Before the full moon rises, every wolf in this territory needs to see her. To understand what we're dealing with.”
My stomach drops. “Pack meeting?”
“You think we can hide who you are forever? Word will spread. It always does. Better to control the narrative from the beginning.”
“She's not ready for that,” Damien growls.
“She better get ready fast,” Hudson snaps back. “Because whether she likes it or not, the other packs will take notice. They’ll want to test her strength, challenge her right to the Rosewood territory.”
“I never said I wanted—”
“It doesn’t matter what you want anymore. You carry that bloodline whether you accept it or not. Others will force the issue.”
Damien's hand finds the small of my back, his touch both protective and grounding. “We're done here,” he tells his father.
Hudson doesn't try to stop us as Damien guides me toward the door. Just as we reach the threshold, Hudson calls out.
“Karina.”
I pause, turning to face the man who might have been my father in another life.
“Your mother was the strongest wolf I've ever known,” he says. “Remember that when you face what's coming.”
As we step out of his father’s study, the world around me blurs into a haze.
The journey back to Damien’s room feels surreal, each step heavy with the weight of what I’ve just learned.
When he finally shuts the door behind us, the soft click resonates like a final note, sealing away my old life.
I stand frozen in the center of the plush carpet, its fibers warm beneath my bare feet.
My arms instinctively wrap around myself, as if trying to hold together the fragments of my shattered reality.
A suffocating silence envelops us, and I find myself unable to move, speak, or even draw a proper breath.
“Karina...” Damien approaches slowly, like I'm a wounded animal that might bolt. “Talk to me, kitten.”
I open my mouth, but no words come. Just a small, broken sound that doesn't even sound human. My legs give out without warning, and I sink to my knees on the carpet, my entire body trembling.
The dam breaks.
“It's all a lie,” I gasp between sobs that tear from my chest with such force they hurt. “My whole life. Everything I thought I knew about myself, about them—” I press my fist against my mouth, trying to hold back the tears.
But they won't stop coming. I bury my face in my hands, shoulders shaking. “They loved me enough to give up everything—their names, their pack, their power—and I called my wolf a monster. I hated the very thing they died protecting.”
Damien drops to his knees beside me, his frame folding around mine like a shield. His arms encircle me, pulling me against his chest where I can hear his heart beating steady and strong beneath my ear.
“They didn't die for nothing. They gave you twenty-seven years of safety. Twenty-seven years to grow strong enough to face this.”
“I'm not strong enough.” The admission scrapes from my throat, raw and broken. “I can barely handle my own wolf, let alone lead a pack or reclaim territory or whatever the hell everyone expects from me.”
His arms tighten around me, firm but careful. “You survived last night. You fought off five trained wolves with nothing but a kitchen knife and instinct. That’s not weakness, kitten. That’s strength. That’s you and your wolf refusing to die.”
I pull back, blinking through the blur of tears until I can meet his eyes. “Your father was in love with my mother.”
“I know,” he says quietly. “I could smell it on him the moment he saw you. It wasn’t just memory—it was grief. He’s been carrying it for years.”
“Is that why he sent your mother and sister out of the room?”
Damien’s jaw flexes. “My father rarely includes them in pack business. He never has. To him—and to most of the older alphas—Lunas exist to smile at ceremonies and keep quiet while the men make decisions. My mother accepted that a long time ago. She’s lived her life as an ornament, not a partner.
She knows he’s never loved her.” His voice lowers, softer but edged with something bitter.
“It’s the role she was raised to play. And he was content to let her stay there. ”
I swallow hard. “So my mother…she threatened that.”
He nods once. “Elena didn’t fit the mold. She questioned, challenged, pushed. She became an alpha in her own right. Centuries of a male alphas upended by one female who dared to ascend.”
My chest tightens, a strange mix of pride and sorrow twisting through me. “And now me.”
His gaze finds mine again, steady, certain. “You won’t be anyone’s ornament either. Not mine. Not anyone’s. You’ll stand beside me in every decision, every fight, every breath of this life.”
He says it like a vow, not of possession, but of equality. Of defiance.
And for a moment, I understand why my mother terrified men like his father. Because equality and love, in a world like ours, was the greatest rebellion of all.
“What happens now? What do I do with all of this?”
“Whatever you want.”
“That's the problem. I don't know what I want anymore.” I pull away slightly, needing space to think.
“Yesterday, I was just trying to survive you. Now the daughter and heir to disputed territory, with an alpha who wants to breed me, and another who wants to use me to fulfill some decades-old political alliance.”
“You're more than your bloodline, Karina. You always have been.”
“Am I? Because it feels like that's all anyone sees now.” I stand up, moving to the window that overlooks the sprawling Marek compound.
Pack members move about their daily business below, unaware that their world is about to be upended by my existence.
“Your father doesn't want me—he wants what I represent. The chance to finally get what he thinks he deserves.”
Damien's reflection appears in the glass behind me, his large build blocking out everything else.
“I'm just a vessel to all of them. A means to power.”
Damien reaches out, grasping my arm, and spinning me on my heels before pulling me against his chest. “Not to me, kitten. I marked you before I knew who you were, Karina.”
I lean into his touch, desperate for the connection. “I'm scared, Damien. I don't know how to be what everyone expects.”
“Then don't be. Be what you want. Take what you want. The rest will follow.”
“What if what I want is just you?”
“Then take me. The rest of it—the politics, the territory, the fucking bloodlines—none of it matters if it's not what you want.”
“But your father—”
“Fuck my father.” His thumb traces my lower lip.
“Fuck Lockhart. Fuck all of them. I've spent my entire life being what everyone else needed me to be. The heir. The enforcer. The Reaper.” His forehead presses against mine, our breath mingling in the space between us.
“The only thing I want to be now is yours.”
Something breaks loose inside me—a dam of uncertainty and hesitation crumbling with his words. I surge forward, capturing his mouth with mine, my hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer. This time, I’m the one taking control. I’m the one demanding.
He responds instantly, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as his arms encircle my waist, lifting me against him until my feet barely touch the floor. His mouth is hungry, desperate, taking everything I offer and demanding more.
“I want you,” I gasp against his lips. “Just you. Nothing else.”
His hands slide down to grip my thighs, hoisting me up against him as if I weigh nothing.
My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my body knowing what it wants even if my mind is still reeling from everything that's happened.
His mouth moves to my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin where his mark already burns.
“Are you sure?” he growls against my throat. “Once I start, I won't be able to stop.”
“I don't want you to stop,” I whisper, arching into him as his hands tighten on my thighs. “I need this. I need you.”
That’s all it takes. With a sound more animal than human, he carries me to the bed and lays me down with unexpected gentleness before lowering himself over me. His presence presses me into the mattress, a grounding force in a storm-tossed sea—the only thing keeping me from drifting away entirely.
His mouth finds mine again, hungry and demanding, as his hands slide beneath the borrowed sweater. I gasp as his calloused fingers meet bare skin, tracing patterns of fire up my sides until they reach the underside of my breasts.
“You're wearing too many clothes,” I pant against his lips, tugging at his shirt with desperate fingers.
He sits back on his heels, yanking his shirt over his head in one fluid motion that makes the muscles in his abdomen ripple.
My breath catches as I take in the full sight of him—the broad expanse of his chest, the intricate tattoos that cover his torso, the raw power evident in every inch of his physique.
My fingers reach out of their own accord, tracing the lines of ink that swirl across his skin.
“Your turn,” he growls, his hands finding the hem of my borrowed sweater.
I lift my arms, letting him pull the soft material over my head. The cool air of the bedroom kisses my bare skin, my nipples hardening instantly. I should feel vulnerable, exposed, but all I feel is wanted.