CHAPTER 24
FINIAN
Three months.
Three. Fucking. Months.
That’s how long it took to get past her demonic family.
The reason they’re demonic is in the way they guarded her like they were feral junkyard dogs.
Not one part of Windy was left unguarded.
She had men all over her property, following her, working with her, and she didn’t even know it.
They’ve been there since a few days after we made the biggest mistake in our lives.
I don’t know what made this time different than all the others, but her family finally listened to us. Of course, they said our reasoning was shit, but, on some other level, it resonated with them. This is Windy’s inheritance, just like Luscious is Wolf’s inheritance.
However, while they may understand it, something tells me that our Spitfire will not.
I’d drag myself, burned and bleeding, over jagged glass if that’s what it took for her forgiveness. I’ll endure anything, anything at all, as long as she has even a sliver of hope to forgive me.
I know that as I stand here, I can’t demand anything from her. Forgiveness? No. Understanding? Definitely not. Conversation? Get out of here with that. She doesn’t owe us a thing, yet I’m hoping that somewhere deep inside, she will forgive.
I also know that we owe her the truth, and we owe her the respect of letting her choose what to do with that truth.
I breathe in, steadying myself, because this isn’t easy to admit.
Not to her. We were wrong. I was wrong. I didn’t fight hard enough.
I didn’t push when I should’ve pushed. I let the weight of Wolf’s father’s expectations and the specific inheritance terms—the need to choose a mate from an influential family and secure the future of our pack—dictate my actions.
The pressure, the threat of losing everything Wolf has worked so hard for, those strict conditions— I let all of that decide something that should have been decided by the heart. By loyalty. By the right thing.
I should’ve chosen Windy, but I didn’t, and that will be a mistake I regret for the rest of my life.
The worst part about this is that she probably thinks I don’t want her; that I never wanted her. She probably thinks that we chose someone else because she wasn’t enough. She probably thinks we turned her away because she didn’t matter to us.
She does.
She. Still. Does.
I replay that day constantly in my head. The moment when Wolf backed her against the wall. The moment he got into her face and spewed those nasty things in her ear.
I’m haunted by the moment I should have screamed no, the moment we should have ripped ourselves free from a future someone else forced on our pack. That failure—my failure—suffocates me. It presses into my chest, merciless and cold, every hour of every day.
Now, though, I’m ready to do anything to make it right with her.
I don’t want to erase what happened. I’ll never be able to do that.
I know it’s impossible. But I want to show her that the truth is much different than reality.
I want her to know it wasn’t her. It was the fear that Wolf would lose everything.
It was the inheritance breathing down our necks.
Maybe if she hears that and understands, it might make it right.
Maybe she’ll find it inside herself to forgive so that we can grow from here.
Maybe she’ll see that we’re no longer running, and we want to be with her now that we can.
I’m no longer hiding behind anyone else’s decisions. I’m choosing honesty, even if it hurts.
We’re not asking her to forget everything that happened.
No, we wouldn’t do that. We’re not even asking her to pretend it didn’t matter.
I’m just hoping that when she knows the truth, she might look at me without anger or betrayal.
Maybe she’ll see we’re trying, that we’re here.
I’m willing to face whatever comes next. We all are.
Maybe, just maybe, this explanation will be enough to forgive us.
My chest coils tight, breath stuttering. Sweat darts down the back of my neck as nerves ravage me. This is it—this devastation is ours. I have to be the first to shatter the silence.
“Windy,” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intend. “You deserve the truth. All of it.”
Her eyes narrow as her lips thin in displeasure. “Then say it.”
Wolf steps forward, coming to a stop next to Amos. He always tries to take the hits for us, even when it’s not his fault. I’m inclined to let him do that this time, since the entire situation is his fault and his wants/needs.
“We messed up. We know that.”
Amos nods quickly. “We should have chosen you. We should’ve fought harder than we did.”
My jaw clenches. I force myself to meet her eyes. “You think we didn’t want you? That we chose someone else because you weren’t enough? That’s not what happened.”
She doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t blink. She merely waits for us to continue.
“Wolf’s father had us cornered,” I continue.
“The inheritance ... it isn’t just money.
It’s contingent on Wolf marrying within our social circle.
It’s everything tied to our future—Wolf’s future, our security, our place.
He made it clear that if we chose someone not in our circle, we’d lose it all. ”
Wolf’s voice cracks. “I was too afraid to stand up to him.”
Amos whispers, standing to his full height. “We all were.”
“But fear doesn’t excuse what we did.” My entire being is stiff, unmoving. I take a breath, stepping closer. She doesn’t step back, but she doesn’t soften either.
“We didn’t walk away because we didn’t want you,” Wolf says. “We walked away because we were cowards. We let someone else’s power decide our choices. That’s the part that keeps me up every single night.”
Windy’s expression flickers--hurt, anger, and something else I can’t name.
“So why now? She asks quietly. “Why come to me now?”
That's the thing. My inheritance states I must marry someone from an influential family and have a child before I turn thirty-two; otherwise, my father will withhold my inheritance. Now, we're free of all of it.”
I nod. “We can finally choose without consequences hanging over our heads.”
Amos walks around the desk, voice trembling. “We chose you. We always did. We just didn’t fight for it.”
I feel the words rising in my chest, heavy and honest. I say, “I’m not asking you to forget.
I’m not even asking you to forgive us. I just need you.
I need you to know the truth. You were never unwanted, baby.
We want you so much, it terrifies us. Now .
.. now we can finally be with you without fear, pressure, or anyone deciding for us. ”
“So, if I didn’t come from an influential family, you all wouldn’t be here,” she says.
Alarms scream beneath my skin. Panic flares, jarring me motionless as I lock eyes with her, frozen, every sense thrumming with dread.
The words hit like a sharp blade, but I nod. “No, baby. No.”
“Then what would you all have done. You said you needed a mate from an influential family. You needed an heir. So, if not with me, you all would’ve mated with someone else and had a child with that female. Let me know if I’m getting things wrong here or not.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She pushes. “Tell. Me. I’m. Wrong.”
Silence stretches between us—painful, fragile, hopeful.
I exhale. “You’re not wrong.”
She releases a dry chuckle. “Then why are you here now? I’m still not your first choice. The only fucking reason you’re here is that my last name is Carmichael, and I’m heir to a fucking empire. Without that name tacked onto the back of mine, you all wouldn’t even be here right now.”
Wolf’s voice softens. “Let us prove it to you.”
“You all broke my heart,” she says. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
“Please, let us earn it.”
Wolf steps up behind me. Amos takes a step toward Windy, putting himself within her proximity. We stand there—no demanding, no assuming—just waiting. Windy doesn’t walk away. For the first time since everything fell apart, this feels like the beginning of something real.
But then she blows it all apart.
“I can’t.” She takes a step away from Amos. “You all hurt me, and you all will just do it again. Please, leave.”
“No.” Wolf steps around the desk, but again, Windy steps further away. “Please, let us prove to you that you’re our first choice. Our only choice.”
She looks us dead in the eye, not giving anything away. “Leave. Now.”
"We won’t give up. You’re it for us." Wolf’s voice trembles, his eyes rimmed red like he’s seconds from shattering. The sure, unshakeable male who never bows to anyone is gone. He’s cracked open, undone, this female breaking him down to nothing.
She gives us a sad look. “If only that were the case three months ago. Now, leave before I call security.”
There’s no anger in her voice. That almost makes this entire situation worse. She’s calm. Final. Untouchable.
My stomach drops. Wolf freezes beside me. Amo’s looks like the last thread holding him together was cut. She doesn’t give in to us. No hint of softness is in her expression. No opening for us to get through. Nothing.
I left my hands slowly, palms out—a white-flag gesture. “Okay,” I say, backing up a step. “We’re going.”
Amos turns toward us. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. She doesn’t need this stress in her condition.”
Wolf nods stiffly and heads for the door ahead of us. After both Wolf and Amos disappear, I stop with my hand on the frame and look back at her. She’s still standing there, and her hands are now cradling her stomach, rubbing. I can’t help but soften when I look at her, at her beauty.
“We’ll prove it to you,” I say, even if she doesn’t believe it.
Windy’s lips curve. “You had your chance. You can’t prove anything.”
The words hit harder than if she yelled. They’re quiet. Firm. Final. I nod once, because arguing will only make it worse. I step out into the hall, letting the door close behind me. For the first time, I realize that fixing this is going to be much harder than I originally thought.
If she lets us fix it.
I close the door behind the three of us, the latch catching with a soft metallic click that seems to echo through the room.
The air out here feels different now—heavier, as if the silence itself has mass.
It settles over my shoulders, thick and unmoving, and for a long moment, none of us even breathes too loudly.
We stand there like statues. No shifting. No fidgeting. Just three men rooted to the floor, staring at nothing, listening to the quiet roar of everything we’ve lost.
This hallway feels too small for all this regret.
The walls seem closer than they were a minute ago, like they’re leaning in to watch us unravel.
Wolf’s jaw works, like he’s chewing on words he doesn’t want to say.
His eyes flick toward the door, then away again.
Finally, he breaks the silence, and maybe a little bit inside himself.
“We have to do something.” His voice is low but sharp, slicing through the stillness. “I know what we did was wrong, but we have to do something to get her to give us a chance.”
I drag a hand down my face, then plant both palms on my hips, staring at the floorboards as if they might offer answers. My chest feels tight, like my ribs are trying to hold in everything I don’t want to admit.
“She’s not going to give us another chance,” I say, the words tasting bitter. “Did you see the way she looked at us? She’s done. Finished. If we didn’t get the hint with the notification from Select-A-Mate, we sure got it just now.”
Amos starts pacing, each step a restless thud against the floor. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath—fragments of curses, regrets, things he wishes he’d said months ago. His shoulders are tense, coiled, like he’s trying to hold himself together by force.
Then he stops abruptly. “Fuck!” The word ricochets off the walls.
“We are so goddamn stupid. Instead of giving her a chance—forget the inheritance—we ruined it all. She’s our scent match.
Regardless of whether she’s from a prominent family or not, we should have accepted her.
” His voice cracks on the last word, and for a moment, none of us moves again.
The truth hangs there, heavy and undeniable.
He’s right. We all know he’s right.
I feel it like a weight in my chest, the months she spent trying, the effort she put in, the patience we didn’t deserve. And now we’re standing here, surrounded by the consequences we built with our own hands.
But beneath all the regret, something else sparks in me. Small, stubborn, burning hotter the longer I stand here.
I’m not giving up. I refuse to.
Yes, we messed up.
Yes, she has every reason to walk away and never look back.
But she matters. More than the inheritance. More than expectations. More than the fear that made us hesitate in the first place.
She will be ours. Not because we’re entitled to her, but because we’re going to earn it.
Every inch of trust.
Every ounce of forgiveness.
Every chance she might give us, if she ever chooses to.
We just have to put in the work. Real work. The kind she gave us for months without complaint.
And I’m ready for the fight. I refuse to back down.