"Alaric, it's time."
The words echoed through the quiet living room of the Stone Estate, heavy with expectation and an unspoken ultimatum.
Alaric stood near the window, his back to his parents, hands clenched at his sides. Outside, the grounds were perfectly manicured, peaceful, controlled. Everything his life was supposed to be.
"You have three months before your ascension," Marcus Stone continued, his voice firm, steady, carrying the authority of a reigning Alpha who had led for decades. "The pack needs stability. It needs a Luna."
The word struck like a blow.
Alaric did not turn around.
Evelyn Stone sat beside her husband on the sofa, her posture composed but her fingers tightly interlaced in her lap. A mother's worry flickered briefly across her face before she masked it with calm. "We thought you just needed time," she said gently. "Space to cool your temper. To grow into your identity."
They had given him years.
Years to train. Years to learn control. Years to bury the truth of what he had done at sixteen, when instinct and desperation had driven him to seal a bond far too early.
They had watched their son retreat behind discipline and silence, watched him become colder, sharper, more untouchable. They knew what he had sacrificed. They knew he had sealed the bond to his mate, cutting himself off from the one connection his wolf had never stopped craving.
They had not interfered.
Until now.
"But time has run out," Marcus said. "You are twenty-six. You will ascend soon. The pack is watching. They are waiting for certainty."
Alaric finally turned.
His expression was calm, but there was a tension in his eyes that spoke of something tightly restrained. "You want me to choose a Luna," he said quietly.
"We want you to lead properly," Marcus replied. "With clarity. With commitment."
Evelyn's voice softened. "We worry about you, Alaric. You live like half of yourself is locked away. That isn't how an Alpha should exist."
Alaric let out a slow breath. "Mom. Dad." His voice dropped, strained beneath its control. "Please let me think."
Marcus's gaze hardened, Alpha authority bleeding through the fatherly concern. "There is nothing left to think about."
Silence fell, thick and suffocating.
"If you have no intention of marking your mate," Marcus continued, each word deliberate, "then you must reject her completely. Only then can you move forward and find your next Luna."
The air seemed to freeze.
"You cannot lead the pack like this," Marcus finished. "With a bond, a mate and living in an empty shell."
Something inside Alaric snapped.
He straightened abruptly, chair scraping softly against the floor as he turned away from them. His chest felt tight, his wolf restless beneath his skin, reacting violently to the idea of rejection. Of severing something that had never truly left him.
Mark or reject his mate.
As if it were that simple.
Without another word, Alaric walked toward the door.
"Alaric," Evelyn called after him, standing now, worried about breaking through her composure. "Don't run from this."
He paused for half a second, hand on the door.
"I'm not running," he said quietly, without turning back. "I just won't make a decision like that while I can still feel my heart."
Without another word, he left the house, the door closing behind him with quiet finality.
*****
That night, Anya Holloway sat alone at her desk in the nearly empty office in Riverside, staring at the dim glow of her computer screen.
It was her twenty-sixth birthday.
Outside the tall windows, city lights blurred into soft streaks of gold and white, distant and uncaring. Inside, the office was silent except for the low hum of the lights and the steady ticking of the clock on her desk. Each second passed slowly, reminding her of time she no longer knew how to celebrate.
There was no cake, candles and laughter waiting, only a half-finished report open on her screen.
Her supervisor had stopped by earlier in the evening, voice brisk and unapologetic, reminding her that tomorrow's meeting with an important client from another city could not afford mistakes. The implication had been clear. Tonight would be long.
Anya rubbed her tired eyes and straightened in her chair, fingers returning to the keyboard. Numbers, projections, carefully worded conclusions. She worked methodically, as she always did, letting routine steady her thoughts. It was easier to focus on deliverables than on the quiet ache settling in her chest.
Her phone buzzed softly beside her notebook.
She glanced down and saw her mother's name.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart. Michael and I miss you. We'll bring you something back."
Anya's lips curved into a small, genuine smile. Warmth spread briefly through her chest, easing the loneliness just a little. She imagined her mother's gentle voice, Michael's calm presence beside her, the safety of a home that had taken years to build.
"I'm okay," she murmured to the empty room, more to herself than anyone else.
She typed a quick reply telling them not to worry, that she was working late but would celebrate another day. Then she set the phone aside and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for just a moment.
Twenty-six.
When she was younger, she had imagined this age so differently. She had pictured stability, certainty, perhaps even happiness that felt loud and undeniable. Instead, her life had become something quieter and more careful. A series of small survivals rather than grand milestones.
Anya opened her eyes, rolled her shoulders, and returned to her work. The glow of the screen reflected softly in her gaze as the clock continued its slow, relentless march forward.
*****
The next morning, the office buzzed with excitement.
It started the moment Anya stepped out of the elevator. Voices overlapped near the pantry, hushed but animated, carrying down the corridor like static.
"He's so handsome," someone whispered, barely containing her excitement.
"I heard he's the CEO himself," another added. "Not just a representative."
"They said he came all the way from Central City."
"And he's still single, apparently."
Anya walked past them without slowing her pace.
She had learned long ago how to tune out conversations that had nothing to do with her. Clients, gossip, appearances, none of it mattered. She had deadlines to meet, reports to finish, a job she could not afford to lose.
Anya kept her focus on her screen.
She had no interest in clients, handsome or otherwise.
Eventually, a message popped up on her computer, followed almost immediately by her boss's voice from the doorway.
"Anya," he said. "Bring the report to the meeting room."
She nodded. "Yes."
Standing up, she gathered the printed documents and smoothed them into a neat stack.
As she walked down the hallway toward the conference room, the chatter softened behind her. The glass walls reflected her own calm expression back at her, composed, professional, unchanged.
She did not know why her heartbeat quickened as she reached for the door.
*****
The moment Alaric stepped into the building, his wolf stirred.
It was not a thought but it was instinct.
The scent hit him before logic could catch up, threading through the sterile air of glass and steel like something alive. Sweet. Familiar. Devastating. It wrapped around his senses, sinking straight into his chest.
His heartbeat accelerated.
Too fast. Too sharp.
His steps slowed without him meaning to, shoulders tensing as the wolf inside him rose, alert and restless.
She's here.
The realization landed with the force of a blow.
No matter how many years had passed. No matter how deeply he had buried it. That scent was burned into him, sealed into his bones the night he had forced the bond shut.
Alaric's jaw clenched.
Control. He needed control.
He entered the meeting room with a composed expression, nodding briefly to the people inside, taking his seat at the head of the table like the Alpha he was expected to be. His gaze remained cool, unreadable, even as his senses tracked every movement outside the room.
Then the door opened.
Alaric looked up.
The woman who entered was smaller than he remembered. Slimmer. Her hair pulled back neatly, her posture straight, her expression calm and professional. She carried herself with a quiet confidence that had not been there before.
But he knew her instantly.
Anya.
Time seemed to fracture.
His mate.
Understanding crashed down on him all at once, sharp and merciless.
This deal.
This city.
This meeting.
It was a setup.
They had brought him here on purpose.
Whether by fate or manipulation, someone had aligned every piece just right, knowing he would come. Knowing she would be here.
Alaric's expression darkened almost imperceptibly.
Anya did not look at him.
She handed the report to her boss with steady hands, bowed her head slightly, and spoke only when addressed. Her voice was calm. Controlled. As if she had no idea the man sitting across the table was the same boy who had once watched her like she was his entire world.
Then she turned and left the room quickly. The door closed behind her.
Alaric did not move, not until the scent began to fade.
"I'm leaving," he said curtly.
Leo Lin was on his feet immediately.
Anya's hands trembled as she walked down the hallway.
She did not understand why the air felt heavier with every step. Why her heart was racing for no reason. Why it felt suddenly difficult to breathe, as if something unseen had wrapped itself around her chest and pulled tight.
She pressed the report folder closer to herself, forcing her pace to remain steady.
Get it together, she told herself.
But the feeling would not leave.
Behind her, the meeting room door opened again. The sound echoed sharply in the quiet corridor.
She turned and saw two tall men stepped out, their footsteps measured as they headed toward the elevator. Her gaze slid past the first without pause.
Then it landed on the taller man's broad back.
Her pulse refused to slow.
Something deep inside her screamed in recognition, wild and unreasoning. Her breath caught in her throat. The world narrowed until there was only that figure, that presence, pulling at something she had never known how to name.
For a heartbeat, she almost called out.
Before she could think, before she could move, the elevator doors slid shut.
*****.
"Alaric," Leo said finally. "What's going on?"
"I know exactly what you're trying to do," Alaric snapped.
Leo did not deny it. "It's time. You need to face her."
"She asked me to leave," Alaric said, his voice low and dangerous.
"You were sixteen," Leo said calmly. "Both of you were. She waShe didn't understand you or your world. She didn't know how to handle what you were becoming."
Alaric's fists clenched.
"You don't know what I went through," he said quietly, turning to face him. "You don't know the pain."
Leo fell silent.
He had never seen Alaric cry. But he had heard the stories. That night, years ago, when the bond was sealed and a future Alpha broke for the first and last time.
The elevator doors opened.
And somewhere in the same building, Anya Holloway stood with her back against the wall, her heart pounding, unaware that fate had finally caught up to both of them.