18. Dorian
EIGHTEEN
DORIAN
The euphoria of claiming Harper publicly still coursed through Dorian's veins like liquid fire as he watched her disappear into the crowd with Lila.
The pack's thunderous approval of their Alpha finally finding happiness echoed in his ears, their cheers and whistles a validation he hadn't realized he'd been craving for eighteen years.
His wolf basked in the recognition, in the scent of his mate still clinging to his formal jacket, in the knowledge that Harper belonged to him now in the eyes of his people.
But as the seconds stretched into minutes, Dorian's protective instincts began to override his contentment.
The sudden urgency in Lila's voice when she'd pulled Harper away nagged at him like a splinter under his skin.
His sister had been radiant moments before, glowing with the kind of joy he'd feared he'd never see again after her attack.
What could have shifted so quickly? Should I follow them?
The thoughts clawed at his control even as Dorian forced himself to remain rooted near the dance floor.
Harper had proven herself capable of handling Lila's emotional needs—better than capable, if he was being honest. The bond his sister and Harper had forged over the past week had been remarkable to witness, like watching two wounded souls recognize something essential in each other.
Dorian's hands flexed at his sides, the urge to protect warring with his growing trust in his mate's abilities.
Harper wasn't just Lila's former therapist anymore—she was becoming the sister Lila had never had, filling a void that Dorian's masculine presence, no matter how devoted, could never quite bridge.
Let her handle it, he commanded himself, though his wolf prowled restlessly. Trust her.
The crowd swirled around him in a kaleidoscope of formal wear and laughter, but Dorian barely registered the celebration.
His mind was already racing toward the future—toward the moment later tonight when he could finally lay his heart completely bare.
He'd tell Harper he loved her with every fiber of his being.
He'd ask her to stay forever, to complete their bond, to let him spend the rest of his life proving how precious she was to him.
Past wounds and all, he thought fiercely.
Harper's strength in surviving her childhood, her dedication to healing others despite her own scars—it only made him love her more desperately.
Finally, the crowd parted, and Harper appeared like an answered prayer, her emerald gown catching the warm light as she approached. Relief flooded through him so powerfully that his knees nearly buckled.
"Everything alright?" he asked as she reached his side near the refreshment table.
Harper's smile held that warmth reserved only for him. "Just a little teenage girl problem. Nothing I couldn't handle."
Before Dorian could probe deeper, movement across the dance floor caught his attention.
Lila emerged from the crowd, her cheeks flushed pink with nervous excitement as she approached a lanky young man with sandy hair and kind eyes.
Dorian recognized him immediately—Tobias Miller, the son of one of his most trusted pack members.
So that's what this was about.
His wolf's protective instincts flared like a struck match as Tobias extended his hand to Lila with the careful respect of a young man who understood he was being watched by an Alpha.
Lila glanced toward Dorian once, seeking permission or perhaps courage, before placing her smaller hand in Tobias's.
The sight of another male touching his sister—even in such an innocent gesture—sent possessiveness roaring through Dorian's veins. His muscles tensed, his jaw clenched, and he took an involuntary step forward before Harper's hand closed firmly around his forearm.
Through their growing bond, he felt her calm certainty wash over him like cool water on flames. "Relax," she murmured, her voice carrying that soothing authority. "Lila is fine."
She's seventeen, his rational mind argued even as his wolf snarled. She's been through hell. She's not ready for—
But as Tobias led Lila onto the dance floor with reverent care, as if she were made of spun glass, Dorian's protests died in his throat.
His sister's face transformed as they began to sway together—the guarded tension melting away to reveal the bright, vivacious girl she'd been before the attack.
Her smile was radiant, her laughter genuine as Tobias whispered something that made her duck her head shyly.
She looks happy, Dorian realized with a jolt of wonder. Actually, truly happy.
"She looks like the girl from before the attack," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than that—she looks truly alive. Something I was afraid I could never fully teach her being her brother and guardian, and not knowing exactly how to raise a girl."
Harper's hand squeezed his arm gently. "You did a really good job raising Lila, you know. She turned out to be smart, brave, and incredibly artistic. That was clearly your influence, and you should be proud of yourself for being such a wonderful guardian."
The praise hit him hard, stirring emotions he'd buried for years. Pride, yes, but also a deep relief. He had done his best with an impossible situation—becoming father, brother, and Alpha all at once when he'd been barely more than a boy himself.
"I was eighteen when she was a baby," he admitted, his gaze never leaving his sister's glowing face. "I had no idea what I was doing half the time."
"But you never gave up," Harper said softly. "You never stopped trying to give her the best life possible. That matters more than you know."
Warmth spread through his chest as he watched Lila laugh at something Tobias said, her whole body relaxed in a way he hadn't seen in months. This was what healing looked like—not the absence of scars, but the courage to reach for joy despite them.
"Why don't we get some air?" Harper suggested, her fingers trailing down his arm to capture his hand.
Dorian nodded, suddenly craving the quiet intimacy of being alone with his mate.
They began moving toward the exit, weaving through clusters of celebrating pack members who called out greetings and congratulations.
The night air would be crisp and clean, perfect for the conversation that had been building between them all evening.
But three steps from the door, Dorian's wolf suddenly went rigid with alarm as a disturbing scent hit him like an arrow.
Smoke.
His nostrils flared as he tested the air more carefully, his enhanced senses picking apart the complex mixture of scents. Not the controlled burn of cooking fires or the pleasant smokiness of the candles—this was wild, uncontrolled, and dangerous.
Where is it coming from?
The acrid scent of smoke wasn't the only warning though—it was the sound that followed.
Glass exploded inward as the first Molotov cocktail shattered through the tall windows of the town hall, spraying liquid fire across the polished dance floor where his pack had been celebrating.
The screams that erupted weren't just surprise—they were primal terror as burning glass rained down on formal wear and exposed skin.
Ronan.
The name blazed through Dorian's mind with the fury of a thousand suns as more projectiles sailed through the shattered windows—rocks, bottles wrapped in flaming cloth, anything designed to create chaos and destruction.
This wasn't random violence. This was calculated, deliberate, and timed with surgical precision to inflict maximum psychological and physical damage.
He chose tonight. He chose the moment we dared to hope.
Dorian's wolf surged so close to the surface that his vision sharpened with predatory clarity, picking out details in the smoke-hazed chaos.
Pack members stumbled over each other in panic, their formal wear now obstacles as they fought toward the single exit.
Children cried for their parents. The elderly struggled against the crush of bodies.
And through it all, the fire spread with hungry efficiency across the space and the decorations they'd spent days creating—the banners Lila had painted, the centerpieces her friends had helped arrange, the twinkling lights that had made the space magical. Everything beautiful was being consumed.
"Harper!" he barked, his voice cutting through the pandemonium like a blade. She spun toward him, her emerald gown already smudged with soot, her green eyes wide but focused. Not panicked—never panicked. His mate was built for crisis. "Get to Lila now!"
She didn't waste time with questions or protests. She simply nodded once, sharp and decisive, before plunging into the crowd toward where he'd last seen his sister dancing with Tobias.
Trust her, he commanded his wolf as every instinct screamed to follow, to shield his mate from the chaos. She can handle this.
"Alpha!" Marty's voice reached him from across the burning hall, his Beta already helping elderly pack members navigate around fallen debris.
His grandmother appeared beside Marty, her silver hair catching the firelight as she barked orders with the authority of a woman who'd survived worse than this.
"Windows!" Dorian roared, his alpha command cutting through the noise like thunder. "Everyone out through the windows! Now!"
But even as his pack began coordinating their escape, Dorian's enhanced hearing picked up the sound that made his blood freeze—the deliberate thud of heavy boots surrounding the building's perimeter.
Through the smoke and flames, he caught glimpses of massive shapes positioning themselves outside the main exit.
Ronan's wolves. They're not just trying to burn us out—they're trying to trap us inside.
This wasn't just an attack—it was an execution. Ronan had waited for the perfect moment when hundreds of his pack would be gathered in one location, dressed in formal wear that would burn easily, with limited exits and maximum emotional impact.
He wants to finish what his family started eighteen years ago.
Fury unlike anything Dorian had ever experienced flooded his system, turning his vision red at the edges.
His parents had died protecting this pack.
His sister had been traumatized. His people had lived in fear for nearly two decades.
And now Ronan thought he could end it all in one devastating blow, destroying not just lives but the hope they'd finally dared to rebuild.
"Marty!" Dorian's voice carried the full weight of alpha authority as he began stripping off his formal jacket with violent efficiency.
The expensive fabric tore as he yanked it free, his wolf demanding immediate action.
"I'm going out there. Get everyone else out through the windows—whatever it takes. "
"Like hell you're going alone." Marty appeared at his side, already loosening his tie with grim determination. Behind him came three more of their strongest enforcers—wolves who'd sworn to stand between their Alpha and death itself.
"The building's compromised," one of them reported, his face streaked with soot. "The support beams near the back wall are already showing damage. We've got maybe ten minutes before this whole place comes down."
Ten minutes to save everyone. Ten minutes to end eighteen years of hell.
Dorian's shirt joined his jacket on the floor as his wolf pressed against his skin, demanding release. Around him, his enforcers were making the same preparations, their human forms already beginning to blur at the edges as their wolves surged forward.
"Evelyn!" he called to his grandmother, catching her sharp blue eyes across the chaos. "Get Harper and Lila out—whatever it takes."
The matriarch's nod was fierce and immediate. She understood what he was asking. His family had to live through this, even if he didn't.
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it brought crystalline clarity. For eighteen years, he'd carried the weight of protecting everyone, of being strong enough to shield his pack from Ronan's hatred. Tonight, that burden would either crush him completely—or finally be lifted.
"Ready?" Marty asked, his voice already roughening as his wolf took control.
Dorian's answering smile was all predator, all Alpha, all barely contained violence. "Let's remind Ronan why he should have stayed away from the Holt pack."
The transformation began, his human form dissolving into the massive black wolf with silver threading through his thick fur. Around him, his enforcers made the same shift, their combined presence radiating lethal intent.
Through the bond that connected him to Harper, he felt her determination as she fought through the crowd toward Lila. Through his connection to the pack, he sensed their terror transforming into coordinated action as they worked to escape through windows and any other opening they could create.
Hold on, he projected toward Harper, knowing she might not hear the words but hoping she'd feel his love, his promise. I'm ending this tonight.
Then he was moving toward the exit, his wolf's massive form cutting through the smoke like a shadow of death itself. Behind him came Marty and his enforcers, their combined howls rising above the chaos—not sounds of fear but declarations of war.
Outside, Ronan and his wolves were waiting. Inside, his pack was fighting for survival.
And between them stood Dorian, Alpha of the Holt Pack, finally ready to settle a debt that had been eighteen years in the making.