CHAPTER 13
WOLF
The second I hear the front door close behind her, I return to the nest. Both Finian and Amos are already there. Amos has his fingers in his hair, pacing back and forth.
“I know you all felt that last night,” Amos says, as if I could forget.
“She’s our scent match,” Finian says.
“Scent match or not,” I say, earning a growl from the other two. “If she’s not in the social circle approved by my father, we cannot mate her. If I go against him, I lose my inheritance.”
“It shouldn’t matter who her family is. Your dad should be happy we found our scent match omega,” Amos seethes.
“You know it doesn’t work like that.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I wish it did, but my father only cares about money and power. I learned that from him.”
“That’s not something to be proud of,” Finian spits. “We can’t love another omega now. It’s not possible.”
“I didn’t say I was proud of it,” I argue. “Besides, love is a figment of people’s imagination. It’s not real.”
“No, it’s not.” Finian is fuming mad, clenching and unclenching his hands. “Love is very real.”
I shake my head, pitying Finian. “No, love isn’t real. Anyone can be bought. Real love means no one leaves.”
“Just because your parents left doesn’t mean love’s not real! Maybe your father was just too much to handle.”
“Leave them out of this.” My tone is deadly and flat, allowing no room for argument.
One thing people don’t talk about is my fathers and mother leaving me with my father. It’s a wound that never healed, and these assholes know exactly where to press. It burns.
“No! Love is real! You just need to believe in it, as you believe in money.”
“I’ll pass,” I say. “Less mess that way.”
“Okay!” Amos yells, cutting us off. “Can we please get back on track? We need to figure out what to do with Windy.”
“Simple.” I shrug. “We do nothing. We can’t have her. Leading her on would be cruel.”
“Your goddamn inheritance is a pain in the ass.” Finian stomps toward the bed, fury in each step. “Would it kill you to just say fuck it and flip your father the bird?”
“And lose everything we’ve worked for? It’s not just about me. We all sacrificed, and it’ll be for nothing if we quit now.”
“She’s our scent match!” Finian explodes, ripping blankets and pillows from the bed. “That matters!”
“I want her, too. Badly. But until I get my inheritance, we play by my father’s rules.”
“I refuse to be with another omega. Absolutely refuse.”
“Fucking hell,” Amos says, sounding weary. “We. Are. Getting. Nowhere.”
“Exactly,” I say, sighing as I lean against the wall. I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “To get my inheritance, I need an heir and an omega my father approves of.”
“I refuse to mate another omega. I want Windy.” Finian looks at me with a stubborn expression. His hands are fisted and pushing into the mattress.
“What we want and what we can have are different things,” I reply, pinning him to his spot. “Wanting her doesn’t mean we can have her. Not yet.”
“Just from what I know of her, Windy isn’t the type of omega to watch as another mates her scent matches. If we do this, we’ll regret it. I know we will.”
“It’s something we have to do, and then pray she’s the forgiving type,” I reply.
“I fucking hate you,” Finian spits fire as he stands to his full height and storms past me out of the nest.
My heart clenches, tight and raw, knowing one of my bond brothers is out of sorts with me.
My chest aches with the distance between us.
But if I want my inheritance—if any of us do—we must follow my father’s strict rules, no matter the cost to our bonds.
If only we could explain to her just how much is at stake for all of us.
Only, I know she wouldn’t understand. She’s not from this life. She doesn’t know the things you have to give up to get ahead in this game. She’s oblivious.
“You’re making a mistake, and you’re taking us down with you,” Amos states, giving me his usual blank stare. It’s hard to know exactly what he’s feeling, but even I can hear the disapproval in his voice.
“We’ve worked too hard to get here, and we’re so close to the finish line.”
“Yeah. But at what expense ...” He eyes me, shrugging. “It’s us giving up stuff. You’re the one gaining.”
“I’m losing Windy, too.”
“Yeah. But it won’t crack you open, not the way it’s going to splinter us. For you, money will always come before love, no matter how much you pretend it doesn’t.”
“Amos, I ...” I trail off, unable to think of anything to make this any better. I know I can’t. There’s nothing I can say that will make up for what Finian and Amos are giving up for me.
He shakes his head, and a little reproachful smile briefly twists his lips.
“There’s nothing you can say that makes this right.
You know it, and I know it. We’re with you in whatever you do but just know it’s not because that’s what we want, it’s because we’re your bonded brothers first and foremost.”
Amos leaves without another word, the door clicking shut like a judgment.
The nest swallows me in silence. I linger by the wall, but soon the ache drives me to the center of the room, tangled among the pillows Finian hurled in fury.
Her scent seeps through everything—warm, sweet, enough to make my heart pound and my throat tighten with longing for a world that will never be ours.
The air is thick with memories and tension.
I can almost feel her presence here, even though she was only here for one night.
I can see the way she curled up in the softest corner of the bed.
I can see the way her eyes lit up when she sensed us near her.
All of that presses on me. It’s sharp and heavy, and I have no idea what we’re going to do to make this better.
The longer I picture her, the tighter my chest cinches, until each breath is a struggle. We’re about to shatter her—shatter the fragile comfort she let herself build, and the beginnings of a bond that already feels impossible to sever.
We have to make her want a rematch on Select-A-Mate.
Finian put on our account that we’re looking for an omega in the upper income threshold.
It was one of the questions he was asked.
Finian figured that if he put the number high enough, it would knock out all the omegas that weren’t within our social circle.
Fat lot of good that did.
We have to convince her that choosing someone else is the right path for her, even if every instinct in me rebels against the idea. Even if thinking about her with someone else feels like it’s tearing something out of me that’s vital.
No matter how much it hurts, we have to try ... and hope she agrees before any of us shatters under the weight of being matched to her.
My cellphone rings in my pocket, slicing through the quiet like a blade. I let out a long, tired sigh before fishing it out of my pocket. The screen is alight with my father’s name.
Of course.
The one person I least want to deal with right now, but the one person I can’t avoid.
Fucking hell.
I stare at his name for a moment, my thumb hovering over the green button.
No matter how badly I don’t want to speak to him, I know I need to ask him, just to be sure, if he’s heard of anyone in our social circle with the last name Michael.
I need every detail, every possibility eliminated.
I need to have all my Ts crossed and Is dotted, even if that means talking to the man responsible for our current predicament.
Damn, I wish things were different. I want nothing more than to stay with our scent match mate. I want nothing more than to hold onto the one thing in our lives that feels right. But I can’t see a path where any of that happens. Not one where I get to keep my inheritance, either.
I’m not greedy. I’m not in this to chase the money for the sake of it.
I worked my ass off for Luscious. I built it from the ground up.
It’s mine. My sweat. My hours. My sacrifices.
Not my father’s. Losing my inheritance doesn’t just mean losing money, it means losing my legacy, our stability, and the reason for all the sacrifices we’ve made.
I loathe it.
But I don’t see another way.
I just need to have hope that when it’s all over—when the dust settles, and the signature on the dotted line is dry—Windy is still there.
Still ours.
Still willing to be with us.
I swallow hard, steady my breath, and finally swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Father.”
“Son.” His voice is clipped, already sounding impatient. “I’ve been waiting for your call. What is holding you up?”
Slowly taking in a breath, I steady myself. “I need to ask you something. Have you ever heard of a family named Michael? Not Michaels. Just Michael.”
There’s a pause. Long enough for me to picture him frowning as he rifles through his mental catalog of pedigree families that have exceeding power. “Michael?” he repeats. “No, I can’t say that rings a bell. Why?”
My fingers tighten around my phone. This is the part I’ve been dreading since waking up this morning and hearing her say her last name. “Because ... last night, we found our scent match mate.”
“That’s wonderful, my boy!”
“Father,” I say, stopping his celebration. “She’s ... um ...”
Silence. Then a sharp inhale. “She’s what?”
“We want to be with her,” I say, the truth scraping me raw on the way out.
He exhales through his nose, the sound full of calculation. “Let me guess ... her last name is Michael. Does she belong to a blueblood family?”
“That’s why I’m asking if you know the name,” I say. “We’re trying to figure out where she comes from so the stipulation of that part of my inheritance is met.”
“No,” he says, firm and dismissive. “I don’t recollect hearing that name at all.
Now, Carmichael—yes.” His tone shifts, warming with greed and ambition.
“Just thinking about being connected to their family makes my mouth water. The prestige, the power … In a perfect world, your scent match mate would be to an omega of that line.”
My jaw clenches. I stare at the nest around me, at the soft blankets still carrying Windy’s scent, and something inside me twists hard. He talks about alliances and status like they’re the only things that matter, like Windy is a bargaining chip instead of a person.
I keep my voice steady, even though what I want is to go off the deep end. “That’s not who she is.”
He hums, unimpressed. “Then you know what will happen if you choose to mate with her. Unless she is connected to a family like the Carmichael family, then she does not pass the stipulation of your inheritance.”
Fuck.
Without speaking, I end the call. I know if I stayed on the phone a moment longer, he’d launch into some tangent about demanding I take our mating seriously.
I don’t bother with a goodbye, either. I don’t have the patience to deal with him or his fantasies of a power mating.
It sickens me that he wants us to mate with someone like the Carmichael family, the perfect power play.
Not today.
The silence that follows is thick. I lower my phone and slip it back into my pocket, taking one last look around the room. Windy’s scent still lingers, making my heart hurt inside my chest. It’s soft and warm, wrapping around me like a memory I’m being forced to let go of.
I step out of the room, closing the door behind me. My hand stays on the doorknob for a moment longer than it should, tightening until my knuckles ache. Letting go feels like a betrayal. Letting go means I’m allowing the thought of Windy to go right along with it. But I force my fingers to release.
The hallway feels colder as I walk away.
I make my way toward my room, each step becoming heavier than the last. With a sigh, I start getting ready for a day at Luscious, but my mind refuses to settle. Every thought circles back to her. To our omega. To the impossible spot we’re trapped in.
We want her.
We want the life we can have with her.
But I also want what I’ve earned.
Luscious is mine.
I built it.
I bled for it.
But I can’t see a path to keep both—her and my inheritance—without something breaking.
We don’t want to give her up. The idea alone feels like someone is tightening a fist around my ribcage. Yet no matter how I look at it, what angles I try to see, I can’t find a way out of this that doesn’t cost someone something.
Still ... I keep thinking. Giving up on her feels like I’m giving up on myself.
But no matter how much I think about it and twirl it around in my mind, I can’t find a way out of this.
She’s lost to us.