My fingers tighten around the phone 65

Emma’s POV
I stood at the window of my luxury apartment in Shadow Fang territory, watching the distant lights of the training facility
glimmer in the darkness. The crystal wineglass in my hand caught the moonlight, making the cabernet inside glow like
blood. My phone lay on the marble countertop, screen still illuminated with the photos my friend had just sent—Ethan,
Aria, and that little mongrel having lunch together at Silver Moon Bistro.
The images made my stomach twist with rage. In one particularly infuriating shot, Ethan was reaching across the table,
tenderly wiping chocolate from the boy’s mouth with a napkin. The gesture was so intimate, so… paternal. My fingers
tightened around the delicate stem of my glass until I heard it crack.
“Damn her,” I hissed, hurling the glass against the far wall. It shattered spectacularly, wine spattering across the imported
Italian marble like arterial spray. The rich crimson liquid pooled and spread, seeping into the grout lines between tiles.
My wolf thrashed beneath my skin, her fury mirroring my own. I could feel my nails lengthening into claws, piercing the
soft flesh of my palms. The sharp pain brought momentary clarity, but did nothing to cool the inferno of hatred blazing
inside me.
Six years. For six years, I had meticulously constructed my relationship with Ethan. Every smile, every touch, every
“accidental” meeting had been calculated to remind him of our supposed night together.
I had burned that night into his memory, making him believe he was responsible, that he owed me. And now, that worthless she-wolf who couldn’t even shift anymore was systematically destroying everything I had built.
Aria’s POV
The she-wolf’s surreptitious filming left an uneasy feeling crawling under my skin, but I didn’t say anything. Ethan’s
overwhelming alpha presence had already put her in her place, and I doubted she’d cross any further lines tonight. Lunch
ended with Lucas’ exciting animated chatter. His excitement bubbled over as he bounced between topics with childlike
enthusiasm. After leaving Silver Moon Bistro, Ethan insisted on driving Lucas and me home before taking me to meet his
mother. The way he had stood up for us during that confrontation with the she-wolf left me feeling off-balance, like the
ground beneath my feet had suddenly shifted. I didn’t want to feel grateful to him, didn’t want to acknowledge the warmth that had bloomed in my chest when he’d defended my son without hesitation.
Rain clouds gathered on the horizon as we drove, the sky darkening to match my conflicted mood. I kept my gaze fixed
out the window, watching the familiar streets blur past.
“And then the teacher said my research on ancient pack structures was the most detailed in the class!” Lucas’s
enthusiastic voice filled the car from the back seat. His reflection in the side mirror showed him gesturing wildly, eyes
bright with excitement.
Through the rearview mirror, I caught Ethan listening with genuine interest. A small, almost secret smile played on his lips
as Lucas continued his animated story. The expression transformed his usually stern face, softening the hard lines into
something that made my heart skip traitorously.
“That’s impressive,” Ethan replied, his deep voice warm with approval. “Most adult wolves don’t even understand the
nuances of traditional pack structures.”
Lucas beamed at the praise, sitting up straighter. “Mom helped me with the research. She knows everything about the
old ways.”
Ethan’s eyes met mine in the mirror, something unreadable flickering in their depths. “Your mother is quite remarkable.”
I quickly looked away, heat crawling up my neck. The casual compliment felt dangerously intimate coming from him,
especially with my son as witness.
“We’re here,” I announced abruptly as we pulled up to our apartment building, desperate to escape both the confined
space of the car and the dangerous direction of my thoughts.
Lucas unbuckled his seatbelt with lightning speed. “Uncle Ethan, you have to come see my project model! You promised!”
he pleaded, bouncing in his seat with barely contained excitement. Then he turned to me, those forest-green eyes wide
and hopeful. “Can he come up, Mom? Please? Just for a minute?”
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I opened my mouth to refuse, but the eager expectation on my son’s face made the words die in my throat. I couldn’t
bring myself to extinguish that light, not when he’d already had to face the cruel words at the restaurant today.
“Just for a few minutes,” I conceded, ignoring the victorious smile that flashed across Ethan’s face.
Our small apartment felt even smaller with Ethan’s commanding presence filling the space. He moved with careful
precision, as if conscious of his size in our modest living room, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe as he
ducked to enter. I watched him take in our home—the worn but clean furniture, the bookshelves filled with Lucas’s
schoolbooks and my training manuals, the framed photos of Lucas growing up—none featuring any father figure.
“This is it!” Lucas announced proudly, pulling his history project from his backpack with careful hands. The model was a
miniature ancient werewolf settlement, each tiny building crafted with meticulous attention to detail—a labor of love that
had kept him up past bedtime for weeks.
Ethan knelt down beside Lucas, his massive frame somehow folding gracefully to meet my son at eye level. Those broad
shoulders that commanded respect in the training camp now hunched forward with gentle interest.
“This is the alpha’s house!” Lucas declared, pointing to the centerpiece of his model with a little finger. His eyes sparkled
with excitement as he tapped the tiny structure decorated with intricate carvings he’d spent hours perfecting. “I made it
super big because alphas have to watch over everybody in the pack. See? And these little houses around it? That’s where
the beta families live, to protect the alpha!”
The pride in his voice made my heart swell. My little wolf pup, so eager to share his knowledge.
“Wow,” Ethan breathed, and I could tell his amazement wasn’t forced. His large hand hovered carefully over the model, as
if afraid his touch might break the delicate creation. “This is incredibly accurate, Lucas. You even added the defensive wall
with lookout posts. Most adult wolves forget these details.” His finger traced the tiny barrier Lucas had constructed from
popsicle sticks and clay. “Where did you learn all this? They definitely don’t teach this stuff in school.”
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Lucas rocked back on his heels, chest puffing out like a little bird. He shot me a quick, beaming smile before turning back
to Ethan.
“Mom taught me everything!” he announced, bouncing slightly on his knees. “She knows all the cool stuff about wolf
history. She says our family goes waaay back to the very first wolf clans.” He spread his arms wide to emphasize just how
far back our lineage stretched. “She says I need to know all about our her—heri—”
“Heritage,” I supplied gently.
“Yeah! Heritage!” Lucas nodded vigorously.
A sudden crack of thunder split the air, followed immediately by a torrential downpour that pelted against the windows
like tiny fists demanding entry. Lucas yelped, his small body jerking with startled fear. He’d always been terrified of
thunderstorms—a trait he’d had since infancy.
But before I could pull him close, Ethan moved with that fluid grace that seemed impossible for someone his size. One
strong arm wrapped around Lucas’s shoulders, drawing him protectively against his side.
“It’s alright, pup,” Ethan murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble that somehow cut through the chaos of the storm.
“Just the clouds arguing with each other.”
Lightning flashed again, illuminating the restaurant in stark white light. Lucas flinched, instinctively turning toward Ethan
rather than me, burying his face against the alpha’s side. The thunder that followed seemed to rattle the silverware on
our table.
I watched, transfixed, as Ethan’s hand came up to cup the back of my son’s head, his thumb moving in small, comforting
circles through Lucas’s dark hair. The gesture was so natural, so protective.
“I’ve got you,” Ethan said softly, his eyes meeting mine over my son’s head. Something warm and dangerous unfurled in
my chest at the sight of them together, the alpha’s massive frame curved protectively around my boy’s small one.
“Nothing can hurt you while I’m here. You’re safe.