Andrew's POV
The door thudded shut behind me with a soft but unmistakable sound. I stood stock-still for an instant, long enough to hear the following silence. It wasn't silence — it was waiting. Thick. As though the air itself were holding its breath along with me.
My father didn't say anything right away.
He didn't have to.
I could already feel him at the other end of the room — rigid, commanding, wrapped in something colder than command. Disappointment, maybe. Or worse — suspicion.
"Andrew," he said finally, voice cut short.
I lifted my head and met his eyes.
There was no warmth in his eyes. No surprise, no frustration, no greeting, really. But this. this was different. Measured. Serious.
"I spoke with the Elders."
Of course, he had.
"They said something to me."
Another halt. Old him — allowing the silence to discomfort me, or attempt to. I'd learned better than that.
"They say you've staked a mate."
There it was.
I could sense the words cut in somewhere just shy of my chest. Not deep enough to cut me open, but deep enough to leave a mark.
I didn't stir. But gods, my heart did.
For a moment, I thought about saying it.
Yes.
Like that. Yes, I did. Jamie's mine.
I imagined his face if he had a clue I'd actually said it, owned him where we were, in this sacred, serious place, with echoes of the past and fear.
But I didn't.
"Say it's not true," my father told me.
My throat closed.
Say it.
Say the truth.
The words refused to shape.
Not when I looked at Jamie's eyes a little while ago- wide, shocked by the way the pack viewed him. As if he were the problem. As if he were a disease.
Not when I thought about what it would cost him if I said it now.
Now.
I felt the change down in me- that pull of instinct to protect.
To hold back for his sake.
So I swallowed. And spoke something that tasted nothing like me.
"It's not."
My voice didn't even break. That was the worst of it.
My father breathed out. A slight nod of approval followed — like I'd passed some sick test.
"Good," he said. "Because I won't risk this pack, this family, or you on something stupid. You see what happened the last time Furstone let that kind of bond simmer. The blood it cost us."
Lunaris.
The cursed name sat between us, though he didn't utter it.
I clenched my jaw so hard it throbbed.
"You'll formalise it tonight, at the party," he went on. "In public. You'll straighten out any misunderstandings."
I blinked once. Twice.
"And what if I don't?"
The room cooled a few degrees.
"Then you are not my son."
He didn't shout. He didn't need to.
I stood there one more moment, trying to stem the storm in me. My wolf was growing restless below, quiet and intent. Not angry. Just. Vigilant.
I whirled about and departed without another word. Not in a spirit of disobedience — but because if I stayed one instant longer, I might have uttered something I could not take back.
I couldn't imagine how I was ever going to manage to look at Jamie again.
But I was certain of this:
This was far from being over.