Layla had worked hard for this, carving out her place among them again. She now ran the archives and even helped mediate small disputes when tempers ran high. She still slipped away to her little workroom in the evenings, her “studies,” as she called them, though she never said what those studies were.
Dominic knew. He pretended not to. There were some in the pack that whispered “witch” when she passed, and he dealt with those murmurings swiftly and brutally.
A familiar voice cut through his thoughts. “Brooding again, Alpha?”
Dominic turned just as Julian slipped out of the shadows near the stairs, silent as ever. His hair had grown out, his coat still the same worn black. The spymaster looked unchanged, like the year hadn’t touched him. It probably hadn’t. Males like Julian didn’t age so much as sharpen.
“Habit,” Dominic said.
“You should try breaking it,” Julian replied. His eyes flicked toward Layla. “You’ve done well. She’s finding her feet. Earning respect.”
“She always deserved it,” Dominic said, a faint edge in his tone, “despite herdeceptions.”
Julian’s mouth curved slightly. “She trusts me now, you know. Even after everything.”
Dominic’s jaw flexed. “I’m aware.”
Julian’s gaze lingered, amused, before he inclined his head. “Then I’ll leave you to your domestic bliss. Chase is about to challenge someone to arm wrestling again, and I’d rather not be collateral damage.”
“Coward,” Dominic said.
“Pragmatist,” Julian corrected, and vanished into the crowd.
Dominic shook his head, expression growing dark. He’d never been able to forgive Julian for hiding his suspicions about Layla. She had tried to make him understand, of course, but the reality was he needed to trust Julian. He had no idea who he was—hell, he didn’t even think Julian was his real name. Every skill he’d learned, every dark tactic he drew like a blade, it all came from somewhere.
Dominic had allowed him into the pack because he’d sworn loyalty. It was the only reason. He was an incredibly dangerous weapon, only safe when Dominic was certain he had complete control.
And his deception had made that control slip.
“You’re scowling again,” came Layla’s voice.
He turned. She stood beside him now, cheeks flushed from the fire, eyes warm. She had a glow about her that made his chest ache, soft, golden, alive.
“Arthur wants to host the Yule celebrations together this year,” she said with a small smile, “he says I’d be perfect to help organize them!”
Dominic smiled, “Who knew the Ice Bear was so interested in party planning.”
“He just likes the celebrations. The community coming together,” she said, bumping his shoulder. Her fingers brushed his wrist, light but electric. The bond thrummed quietly between them, that constant awareness. He could feel her calm, her exhaustion, the pulse of life beneath her palm. Their child. Their miracle.
“You should be sitting,” he murmured, eyes dropping to her hand.
“You should stop hovering,” she countered, but there was affection in it, “I’m fine.”
“The healer said you shouldn’t overexert yourself.”
“And I’m not,” she arched a brow, “I’m talking to my mate in a bar. Hardly perilous.”
He huffed out a breath. “You drive me mad.”
“That’s the idea.”
He reached for her hand, and she let him. The noise of the room faded a little. She studied him for a long moment, eyes tracing the faint lines at the corners of his mouth, then leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her without thinking. She fit perfectly, always had.
They stood like that for a while, letting the sounds of the pack swell and fade around them. The crackle of the fire, the rumble of Arthur’s laughter, the steady hum of belonging.
Layla murmured against him, “Theo asked me to help him with the training records. He’s been different lately. Softer.”
“He’s learning,” Dominic said quietly. “He’ll never stop regretting the things he said. How he chose to handle things.”
