The words came out flat, emotionless—a recitation of facts rather than a confession of grief. But even now, after all these years, he felt the echo of that loss. The empty space his mother had left behind, never quite filled by anything or anyone else.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, the words carrying genuine sorrow.
He breathed through the old pain and let it settle back into the place where he kept all the things he didn’t want to feel.
“My father mourned her for three years. Then the pack elders began pressuring him to take another mate, to stabilize the pack. He was still strong, still capable of leading for decades, but a male is… stronger with a mate. So he chose again.”
“Your stepmother.”
It wasn’t a question. He heard the understanding in her voice, and the careful way she put the pieces together.
“Vaela.” He spoke the name like a curse. “She was young. Beautiful. And utterly without scruples.”
He sat up, unable to lie still any longer. The memories were too close to the surface, pressing against his skin like something alive and struggling to break free. He moved to the fire, staring down into the embers.
“She pretended to love my father. She pretended to respect my mother’s memory. She pretended to accept me as the rightful heir.” His voice hardened. “But from the moment she arrived, she was working against me. Whispering in my father’s ear. Turning the pack against me one member at a time. Preparing the way for her own son to take what should have been mine.”
“Her son?”
“My half-brother. Nico.” He turned and paced the width of the cabin. “He was born two years after Vaela joined the pack. A sickly pup at first, small and weak, nothing like me. But Vaela coddled him and convinced my father that he needed special consideration.”
“And your father believed her?”
“My father believed what he wanted to believe. He was tired of conflict. Tired of the constant politics of pack leadership. And Vaela knew exactly how to play him—how to seem loyal and devoted while undermining everything he’d built.”
He heard the blankets rustling as she sat up. Even without looking, he could sense the intensity of her attention.
“What about your brother? What did he think of all this?”
The question cut deeper than she probably intended.
“Nico was…” He searched for words that didn’t sound like excuses. “Weak. Not in body—he grew strong enough eventually—but in will. He wanted everyone to like him. He wanted peace at any cost, and he was terrified of his mother.”
“Your stepmother.”
“Yes.” His hands clenched on his knees. “Vaela controlled him completely. He did everything she said, believed everything she told him. By the time my father died, Nico was more her creature than his own person.”
An ember popped in the silence. He breathed through the memories, through the bitter taste of old betrayals.
“When my father passed, I should have become Alpha. It was my right—by blood, by tradition, by everything our pack believed in. But Vaela had spent years preparing for that moment. She had allies among the elders. She had stories about my supposed unfitness, my aggression, my instability. And she had…”
He stopped. The next part was harder than he’d expected.
“She had Lysara.”
The name hung in the air like poison.
“Who was Lysara?”
He closed his eyes. Even after all these years, the memory still burned. “She was meant to be my mate.”
He could feel her shock in her sudden stillness and the way her breathing changed.
“Meant to be?”
“We grew up together. Our families had an understanding—not formal, but strong enough. Everyone assumed we would bond when we came of age. And I…” He laughed bitterly. “I was fool enough to believe it too.”
“What happened?”
