Chapter 8 — The Morning After
The morning didn't so much arrive as it crept in, soft and deliberate.
Sunlight spilled in lazy streaks through the sheer curtains, drawing golden lines across the worn wooden floorboards. Dust motes drifted in the beams of light, weightless and unhurried, as if the world beyond this room had no idea what had transpired the night before.
Somewhere in the garden below, a bird began to sing—faint, delicate notes that wove themselves into the silence.
Amber stirred beneath the covers.
Her body felt heavy, as though she had been carrying the weight of a dream all night, one she couldn't quite shake. Her lashes fluttered open, and for a moment, she lay still, staring at the ceiling while the echoes of his voice rose like smoke in her mind.
You are my fated mate… my imprint.
The memory felt fragile, almost unreal, like a dream she might have conjured from a lonely heart. And yet… the heat in his gaze last night had been anything but imagined.
She sat up slowly, brushing her hair back with fingers that still trembled faintly. The blanket slid from her shoulders, and the cool air met her skin, grounding her in the present. She glanced toward the window, the morning light soft against her face, and wondered—not for the first time—what this place would feel like if it weren't wrapped in secrets.
Across the hall, Zach was already awake.
He stood before the mirror in his room, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, adjusting his cuffs with methodical precision. His movements were sharp, practiced—yet there was a tension in his shoulders that refused to be smoothed away.
The man staring back at him in the mirror looked composed, but his reflection was a lie. Behind his eyes, there was only the restless pull of memory.
Her name was Luna.
Amber's mother.
The image of her was as sharp as it had been all those years ago: the quiet determination in her voice, the stubborn set of her jaw when she'd chosen to save him. She had risked everything—her place in the Southern Pack, her own safety—to hide a boy who was never meant to survive.
That boy had been him.
And she had paid for it.
Zach clenched his jaw, the echo of her sacrifice pressing against his ribs like a blade. He could tell Amber the truth now, but the thought of her eyes—those same eyes Luna had once fixed on him with such fierce defiance—looking at him with hatred instead…
No.
Not yet.
Not until he could bear the weight of it.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke his thoughts. Mamita's voice followed, warm and unhurried. "Amber? Breakfast is ready, dear. Come down whenever you're ready."
Amber's voice floated back, soft. "Yes, Mamita."
She rose from the bed, the movement slow, deliberate. Her body felt reluctant, as though it knew the moment she left the safety of these four walls, she would have to face him. And she wasn't sure she was ready for that—not after the way he had looked at her, not after the truth he had let slip like it was both a gift and a chain.
She dressed with care, pulling on a soft linen blouse the color of cream, pairing it with a skirt that brushed against her calves with every step. In the mirror, her reflection looked… different. Not changed in any obvious way, but touched by something she couldn't name. Her eyes held a flicker she didn't recognize.
When she finally descended the stairs, the scent of fresh bread and herbal tea greeted her, wrapping around her senses like a welcome she didn't fully trust. The dining hall was quiet, the long table already laid out with food.
Her gaze found him instantly.
Zach sat at the far end of the table, fingers curled loosely around a mug that sent faint curls of steam into the air. His posture was relaxed, but his attention was entirely on her the moment she entered.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke—but something passed between them all the same. It wasn't loud or obvious. It was a silent pulse in the air, a pull that made her chest tighten.
"Good morning," Zach said finally, his tone stripped of its usual authority.
Amber hesitated before answering. "Morning."
She crossed to the seat nearest Mamita, putting the older woman between them like a polite barrier. Mamita's gaze flicked between the two, her expression unreadable, but she said nothing. She had lived long enough to know when to leave certain silences untouched.
Zach watched Amber as she poured herself tea, as if memorizing the exact tilt of her wrist, the way her eyes stayed on the cup instead of on him.
"You didn't sleep much," she said suddenly, her voice almost casual.
His mouth curved faintly, though not in amusement. "I didn't expect you to."
She sipped her tea, letting the steam veil her face for a moment before setting the cup down. "You said… you knew who I was the moment you saw me. Is that still true?"
"Without question," he said, no hesitation in his tone.
Amber's brows drew together. "But you didn't tell me everything, did you?"
The shift in him was small, but she saw it—the faint tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed around the mug. "No."
That single word seemed to stretch between them, heavy and unmoving.
Mamita rose then, her hands gathering the empty plates though breakfast had barely begun. "I'll give you two a moment," she murmured, slipping from the room without another glance back.
The silence that followed was different now. No buffer. No escape.
Amber's voice was soft but steady. "Then tell me now. What aren't you saying?"
Zach pushed back his chair and stood, each step toward her deliberate. When he reached her, he stopped close enough that she could feel the subtle shift of air between them.
"Some truths are like fire, Amber," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "They warm you… or they burn you. And once they're spoken, you can't take them back."
Her eyes lifted to his, unwavering. "You think I'm not strong enough to hear it?"
"No," he said, and there was no mistaking the truth in it. He lowered himself until they were eye-level, the world narrowing to just the two of them. "I think I'm not strong enough to watch your face when you find out."
Amber's heart stumbled in her chest. She could see it now—beneath the layers of control and Alpha authority—there was something raw in his gaze. Not fear for himself, but for her.
"Then give me the truth," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "Even if it burns."
For a long moment, Zach just looked at her, as if memorizing the exact way the sunlight touched her hair, the slight tremble in her lips. The truth was right there, pressing against his teeth. But the memory of Luna's face, pale and still, stopped him cold.
"I will," he said finally, the words almost rough. "Just not today."
Amber didn't look away. "Why not?"
Because, he thought, I'm the reason your mother died.
But he didn't speak the words. He feared that once they were out, they would tear apart whatever fragile thing was growing between them.
And so he swallowed the truth again, the taste of it bitter on his tongue.
Amber searched his face for deceit, for avoidance, for anything that might tell her she was being played. But all she found was pain—pain deep enough to be its own kind of truth.
So she nodded, though her chest ached with the unsaid.
"All right," she murmured. "But don't wait too long, Zach. I've lived in the dark too long to fear the light now."
For a moment, he didn't move. Then he stood, his shadow falling over her, and extended his hand.
"Walk with me?" he asked.
She hesitated, glancing at his hand, at the strong curve of his fingers, the way his palm waited—not demanding, just… there.
Finally, she slipped her hand into his.
His fingers closed around hers with a quiet certainty, and together they stepped out into the garden.
The morning air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rosemary from the herb beds and the sweet fragrance of blooming jasmine. The gravel crunched softly under their steps as they walked side by side, their joined hands swinging slightly between them.
They didn't speak. There was no need.
For now, the truth between them would remain unspoken. But it waited—like a shadow just beyond the sunlit path—ready to step forward when the time came.
And when it did, Amber would finally know everything: about the woman who had defied her pack to save a boy she was never meant to protect… and about the man that boy had become, whose heart now beat only for her.
The question was whether that truth would bind them forever…
Or tear them apart.