Andrew
I hadn't expected him to run.
The moment Jamie was dismissed from the Council chamber, he bolted like his soul was on fire. Gone before I could catch his arm. Gone before I could even look at him properly.
I'd moved to follow, of course. My wolf demanded it, snarling beneath my skin like it didn't understand why we were standing still when our mate had just vanished. But just as I took a step, Caroline caught my eye and gave a subtle shake of her head—her hand gesture sharp, warning. And then my father's voice rang out, authoritative and cold.
"Andrew. Stay."
So I stayed.
And I hated every second of it.
I stayed through Oona's smile, tight-lipped and far too satisfied. I stayed through Cassian's scoff, which burned like a hot coal between my ribs. I should've handled it better. Should've remembered the power of restraint.
But I didn't.
My wolf surged before I could think, before I could breathe. My fist struck Cassian's jaw with a clawed punch that sent him flying across the stone floor. The council room erupted—gasps, growls, chairs screeching back—but all I saw was the red blur of Cassian, rising again with his wolf now fully out, snarling.
His patrol, loyal fools that they were, looked ready to strike.
But then Caroline stepped between us, unarmed but unshakable. And that was when Father—Alpha Jackson used his last reservoir of strength and summoned the Alpha Voice.
"ENOUGH!"
Even Cassian faltered. That voice didn't just command obedience—it seized it.
Still snarling, Cassian froze mid-lunge, hackles raised. My wolf bared his teeth in answer.
"I said enough," Father repeated, firmer, and the room fell into strained silence.
Elder Throne broke it—his voice cutting through the tension like a blade dipped in wisdom.
"We know you're scared," he said, eyes locked on mine. "Scared for your supposed mate. Scared about the Trials of Becoming. And you have every right to be."
He paused. No mockery in his voice. Just age. And understanding.
"The boy hasn't even shifted yet," I muttered bitterly, still seething. "He hasn't—he's not—"
"And yet here we are," Throne replied calmly, not rising to my frustration. "All of us are asking for the same thing."
I didn't speak.
"Let the boy take the trial," he continued. "Let him prove to us that he's worthy of our trust, of our loyalty… of you."
That struck something deep. Like he'd peeled open my ribs and placed the truth inside.
"That's all we ask," Throne said. "To know this bond you share is real. Not cursed. Not a rebellion against the goddess, but her design. Can you do that for us, son?"
I exhaled slowly. And nodded.
Not because they demanded it. But because he was right.
And Jamie deserved that chance.
—
Now I stood at his door.
I could hear them talking—him and his grandmother—voices soft but firm in that way families speak when secrets are no longer secrets. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. But my Alpha hearing didn't exactly need permission.
I stood outside and listened. The story of his parents. The truth he never knew. His grandmother's voice broke, holding grief she'd carried for too long. And Jamie's—quiet, stunned, trying to catch the shape of a history that had never been his to carry.
I waited until the silence between them softened into stillness. Then, and only then, did I knock.
When the door opened, he was there. Raw and red-eyed and beautiful. The scent of him hit me like it always did—like pine after rain and something fragile wrapped in steel. I could feel his anxiety roll off him in waves, but there was something else, too.
Longing.
My wolf ached.
"Hi, mate," I said, grinning cheekily.
Jamie flushed on instinct, rolling his eyes even as his lips twitched. "Seriously?"
"Oh, very seriously." I leaned on the doorframe. "You're cute when you blush. I might start a collection."
"You're insufferable."
"Yet strangely irresistible. Coincidence?"
He opened his mouth—probably to protest—but then both of us turned at the sound of footsteps.
Ann.
The second I saw her, something in me tensed again. I didn't even mean to sound sharp when I asked, "What's the problem?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss the part where visiting my best friend became illegal?"
I let out a breath, the tension in my chest loosening. Goddess. My instincts were on overdrive today.
"Oh," she added with a smirk. "And that claim you made at the Council? In front of the Elders?" She fanned her face dramatically. "Sexy as fuck, Andrew."
Jamie let out a mortified groan. "Ann—"
"No, no," she said, wagging a finger. "That was the boldest, most dangerous, most hot Alpha shit I've seen in a decade. A standing ovation wasn't enough."
Jamie was already pink again, and I grinned.
"You did blush when I said 'hi, mate,'" I murmured. "I should keep doing that."
He glared, but there was no real fire behind it. Just warmth.
Then Jamie sighed. "You know we're not supposed to talk about the Council meeting. Alpha's orders."
"Pfft," Ann said. "News like that? It won't stay hidden for long. Half the Pack already knows."
She stepped forward, then frowned. "But are you okay, though? You look… off."
I tensed again. She was sharp. Too sharp sometimes.
Jamie hesitated, then said quietly, "Just a bad dream."
Something passed through him—a tremor I saw in the way his shoulders dipped. I knew it was about the story. The one he didn't know I'd heard.
But I didn't say anything. It wasn't my place. Not yet.
"Which is why," I interjected, "I'm going to start training him."
Ann turned, surprised. "Training?"
I nodded. "He needs to be ready for the Trials."
Ann laughed. "Andrew, you know he can't go to the Alpha Training Academy, right?" She turned to Jamie. "No offence."
Jamie gave her a half-smile. "None taken."
She continued, "And he can't train at the Pack Grounds either—unless he's a warrior, patrol, or something official. Same reason he's not allowed at the Academy. They won't accept him."
"I'll take care of it," I said. "For now, we start where we can."
Then I sniffed the air and grinned. "But first... I smell stew."
Jamie laughed, the sound light and real and everything I needed to hear. "You're impossible."
Ann beamed. "Sorry, I didn't wait for an invite. But it's not for me—it's for him. You know I don't need one."
Jamie's grandmother chuckled in the background as she set the table, and Ann went in to help her like she always belonged there.
Jamie and I stood alone in the doorway again.
"Well," he said softly, eyes gleaming just a little. "Will you come in… mate?"
The playful lilt in his voice didn't go unnoticed. Neither did the glint in his eye—pun fully intended.
I stepped closer until we were nearly chest to chest.
"If you'll let me," I said, voice barely above a whisper, "I'd come in much… closer."
He smiled, stepping back to let me pass.
And as I crossed the threshold, I knew something deeper than instinct had just shifted.
Not strategy. Not prophecy.
Something far more ancient than either.
Something that tasted like a promise.