Ex Begs Back-After Letting Another Wolf Claim My Kid

Thanksgiving rolls around, and the Blake pack is gearing up for a big family feast.

Normally, on days like this, I'm not even allowed to catch a glimpse of Ivy from afar.

But this year, Veronica's feeling generous-or maybe just cruel in a new way-and lets me work the event, hauling trays and cleaning up after the pack.

The Blake pack's got deep roots and deeper pockets.

The feast is a full house, dozens of wolves and she-wolves gathered, laughing and clinking glasses.

When Veronica strolls in, arm-in-arm with Preston Hale, nobody bats an eye.

They swarm the pair, raising glasses like they're already bound.

"Bringing Preston to the feast? Looks like Veronica and him are about to form a sacred bond," someone whispers nearby.

"No surprise there," another voice chimes in. "Preston's from a top-tier pack, and him and Veronica? They're a match made by the moon. Plus, Ivy adores him. It's only a matter of time before she's bound to him."

The words hit me like a punch to the chest.

Veronica and Preston grew up together, thick as thieves.

When he found out she was my mate, he raised hell more than once.

Now, looks like he's getting what he always wanted.

But that's got nothing to do with me anymore.

I lower my head, grabbing a tray of drinks to deliver, when Ivy comes barreling toward me, all excitement. I don't move fast enough, and we collide.

"Hey, you okay? Did you get hurt?" I ask, checking her over, my heart racing.

She shoves my hands away, her face twisting with disgust.

"Keep your claws off me!" She hisses, shoving me so hard I stumble. Her eyes flash, pupils slitting. "Ugh, you. Always you. The worst of your kind."​

She doesn't spare a glance as she bolts, knees pumping, and throws herself into Preston's arms. He's outside, by the bonfire-flames crackling.

He's handing Ivy a moon token-carved bone, glowing faintly.

"Scratch your wish, pup. Let the moon taste it, and it binds."​

Ivy's eyes blaze. "I want you for dad, Preston! Us, a pack-forever bonded!"​

"Bonded?"

Veronica's laugh is soft, stroking Ivy's hair.

"You know bonds mean blood oaths, little one?"​

"I know!" Ivy bounces, token clutched tight.

"Mom, bond with him! Please?"​

Preston's ears perk; Veronica's gaze flicks to me-sharp, triumphant.

"Alright, pup. He's yours."​

My blood runs cold, chest squeezing like a trap.

I turn to go, but Andrew blocks me, calm as a storm.

"See that?" He nods at their laughter.

" You? A rogue. Ivy doesn't need your shame."​

His voice drops, dangerous.

"Stay away. Or I'll let the pack scent your secret. Let 'em howl about her bloodline's rot. You want that for your cub?"​

I stare blankly. "I won't tell anyone I'm her dad."

Andrew squints at me, like something's off, but he can't place it.

"Good. Veronica's had a lot to drink. Take her this sobering tea."

He shoves a cup into my hands.

I weave through the crowd to where Veronica's chatting with some pack members.

She spots me, her eyes icing over, but she doesn't say a word.

I don't either-just set the tea down and slip away.

The feast drags on, and I'm scrubbing the villa's floors until three in the morning.

I'm so beat I could crash right there, but I manage to stumble to bed.

The next morning, my phone's buzzing wakes me.

The newsfeed's blowing up: #Blake Pack Heir Caught In Ca rScandal-BondImminent?

It's Preston, of course.

The story's everywhere.

With their pedigrees, the whole pack's howling their approval online.

I shut off my phone, numb.

That doesn't matter to me. What matters is Dad.

Veronica's got him stashed in a private hospital, hooked to machines that keep him breathing. I sit by his bed, my hand trembling as I touch his weathered face.

I don't blame her for hating me, but I can't believe Dad would do what they say.

"Dad," I whisper, "when are you gonna wake up? You gonna lie here forever, carrying the weight of their lies?"

A tear falls onto his hand.

Then-did his finger just twitch?

I blink, thinking I'm seeing things. But it moves again.

I scramble for the healer.

After a flurry of tests, the healer pulls off their mask, smiling.

"Owen, good news. Your dad's vitals are improving. With active treatment, there's a real chance he'll wake up."

"Really? You mean it?"

I'm practically shaking with relief, thanking the healer over and over.

Hope sparks in my chest again.

I curl up by Dad's bed and drift off, clinging to that flicker of light.