“I believe my sister has always lived too much in her head,” Theodore said. “She reads too many stories, fills the gaps with fantasy. You’re giving meaning to a nightmare because it just so happened to occur after asacredmating.”
Dominic’s fists curled slowly at his sides. “You think I wanted this?”
“I think you need it,” Theodore said, quieter now but no less sharp. “The pack’s restless. The hybrids are moving. Leonid’s watching. You need to show strength. A so-called true mating that grants alphas special powers seems like the perfect dose of hope. And my sister was convenient.”
Dominic stepped forward, close enough that the tension between them shifted. “Careful, Hawthorne.”
Theodore didn’t back away. “No one else will say it to your face.”
Dominic looked down at him. Theodore was only an inch shorter, but in this light, the difference felt wider. “You think I’m using her,” he said, quieter now, deadly calm. “That I stood there before my pack, before Lunarion Himself, and bound myself to a woman I didn’t want, just for politics?”
“I think you’re lying to yourself about why,” Theodore said.
Something flared in Dominic’s chest. Rage, maybe, or something darker and more painful.
“Stay out of my way,” Dominic said quietly.
“You make that hard,” Theodore answered.
Dominic didn’t reply. He pushed past his best friend, his lieutenant, more set than ever on seeing his mate.
“Do whatever you want,” Theo called after him, his words dark, “just don’t let yourself fall for her delusions. She’s not having visions. She’s just dreaming. Make sure you’re wide awake.”
Dominic paused for a second, considering.
But he didn’t turn. He left Theodore out in the cold and headed towards his mate.
***
The walk down to The Anchor was short, but it felt longer than any battlefield march Dominic had ever made.
The fog clung low over Skymist, softening the world into shapes of gray and silver, the sky darkening. Somewhere far off, the tide turned, pulling back from the stones with a hiss.
He stopped outside the tavern door. For a moment, he just stood there, listening to the creak of the sign above him, to the faint hum of voices somewhere deeper inside, to the bond tugging his chest. Then he pushed the door open.
Inside, the bar had a few exhausted figures draped over benches and against the bar. He moved silently past them,towards the stairs. Footsteps sounded above, faint, wooden creaks as someone paced the floorboards.
Layla.
Dominic climbed the stairs, the old building groaning under his weight. When he reached her door, he didn’t knock right away. He could hear her moving, the rhythm sharp and uneven. Five steps, turn, five steps, turn again.
He exhaled once through his nose and rapped softly on the door. “Layla.”
There was a pause, and then her voice, quiet and wary. “Come in.”
He opened the door.
She stood in the middle of the room, hair loose around her face, ill-fitting clothes baggy on her frame. The window behind her was fogged, evening light dull and silver. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all.
“I was expecting Theodore,” she said.
“He’s busy,” Dominic replied. “So am I.”
“Yet you’re here.”
He ignored the jab and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “You didn’t sleep well. I could feel it.”
Her eyes flicked to his. “Youfeltit?”
