He’s an alpha, but a lower-tier one. Conditioned to yield. Beaten down by years of stronger men.
It’s pathetic.
“Cass,” he says, quieter now, careful. “You can’t seriously think that cutting her off from her family is the right thing to do.”
“You don’t get to tell me what my mate needs,” I warn.
Daniel exhales, clearly frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then choose your words better,” I say. “Because I didn’t come here to negotiate.”
He goes still, hands folding together like he’s bracing himself. “Then why are you here?”
“Because Tansy regrets not saying goodbye to you,” I tell him.
“Goodbye?” Daniel echoes, the word landing heavy. His shoulders slump, grief flickering openly across his face before he reins it in. Then his eyes lift again, fragile hope slipping through the cracks. “But…she doeswantto talk to me?”
“Shemight,” I say, my voice hard and level. “And if she does, you will not say a fucking word.”
Daniel stills completely.
“You don’t get to explain shit,” I continue. “IfTansy chooses to speak to you,” I step closer, making sure he hears every syllable, “you will listen to whatever she has to say, you will thank her for saying it, then you will never hear from her again. Do I make myself clear?”
Daniel’s hands tremble before he fists them together. “I would never hurt her,” he says quietly. “I’ve always been her sanctuary. Someone?—”
A growl tears out of me, low and ugly. “She never should’ve needed a sanctuary from her own fucking family!”
Daniel flinches as the sound hits him right in the chest.
“You don’t get to stand there and claim to have been her safety,” I continue, my voice rough with rage. “Not when the danger was living under the same roof. Not when every one of you chose silence over protecting her.”
His mouth opens again, but I cut him off.
“Your pack is vicious,” I say flatly. “Horrible. The only thing you taught Tansy was how to survive the people whowere supposed to love her. You call yourself a sanctuary because it makes it easier to live with yourself.”
Daniel’s eyes burn, wet and hollow, but he doesn’t argue. He can’t.
“She learned to make herself small in your house,” I go on. “To disappear. To expect pain and judgment. And every single one of you let it happen.” I step closer, forcing the asshole to look at me. “She’s finally learning what it feels like to be safe. And I won’t let you ruin that.”
Daniel’s shoulders cave inward, my words finally breaking him.
Good.
“I know,” he whispers, then he bows his head, submitting to my anger. “I know you won't believe me, but I tried to leave so many times.”
I narrow my eyes, listening.
“I wanted to take Tansy with me.” He looks up, his eyes glassy. “But I wasn’t the pack alpha. The courts wouldn’t have given her to me. Not if Renee didn’t want to come with me. And I knew she’d never leave Will and Ken.”
My anger simmers, but I let him talk.
“She was bound to them in a way she never was to me,” Daniel continues. “Even after everything.” His voice cracks. “I told myself I was protecting her by staying.”
I lean on my cane, letting the solid wood hold me in place. “So you thought it was better to endure what Ken did to her? You never once tried to stop him.” It’s not a question.
Daniel flinches, his face pale. “I mean, it’s not like he did it in front of me.”
I snarl at his pathetic excuse, baring my teeth.
