The Lycan Mate's Souls

Chapter 3: Siguiendo el cato del gallo

After helping Diana into the room and giving her the privacy she needs, I step outside to gather my thoughts. And that’s when I see him—Jose. He’s standing by the door, looking like he’s been waiting for me. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and his hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail. The sight of him makes my chest tighten.

He looks up when he hears my footsteps, his eyes locking onto mine. There’s something in his gaze—regret, longing, maybe even a hint of desperation. It’s enough to make me pause, but I quickly regain my composure.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Soza. Have you come to my hospital because you’re injured?” I keep my tone flat, professional, but there’s an edge to my voice. I hope he has some real reason for being here other than trying to get under my skin.

He shakes his head, offering a small, sad smile. “No, I just… I wanted to see you. Make sure you’re okay.”

I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m fine, Jose. Working hard, as always. Now, if there’s nothing urgent, I have a patient to attend to.”

But he doesn’t move. Instead, he steps closer, lowering his voice. “Marisol, can we talk? Just for a minute?”

I sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. “If this is about us, Jose, I’m not interested. You know how I feel.”

His shoulders slump, and for a moment, I think he might actually walk away. But then he takes a step closer, his voice barely a whisper. “I miss you. I miss our family. I know I messed up, but I’m trying to make things right.”

I feel a pang in my chest, but I push it down, keeping my expression stern. “You miss what we had? Or you miss having someone to boss around? Because those are two different things, Jose.”

He flinches, and for a moment, he looks like he might break. But then he squares his shoulders, determination flashing in his eyes. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m not giving up on us. Not after thirty-six years.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Thirty-six years, and you still don’t get it. You think I’m just going to forget everything you did? The way you treated me, our kids?”

He reaches out suddenly, cupping my face in his hands. His touch is rough, calloused from years of training, but there’s a tenderness there too. I want to pull away, but my body betrays me, leaning into the warmth of his palms.

“Marisol,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but I’m willing to fight for one. For you. For our family.”

I close my eyes, swallowing hard against the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. When I open them again, I see the tears in his eyes, and it takes everything in me not to let mine fall too.

“You don’t get it, Jose,” I say quietly, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “I’ve moved on. I’ve built a life without you, and I’m not going to let you waltz back in and tear it apart.”

His grip tightens for a moment, as if he’s afraid to let go, but then he slowly releases me, stepping back. The pain in his eyes cuts deep, but I refuse to let it sway me.

“I’m not leaving, Marisol,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. Even if you never take me back… I’ll be here.”

I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to turn away from him. “Do what you want, Jose. But I won’t be waiting around for you.”

I walk back into the room, closing the door behind me with more force than necessary. As the door clicks shut, I press my back against it, trying to steady my breathing. My hands are trembling, and I clench them into fists, willing myself to stay strong.

But even as I focus on Diana, I can’t shake the feeling that Jose’s words have stirred something inside me. Something I thought I’d buried a long time ago.

He breathes deeply against my face, his hot breath mingling with mine. He presses closer, burying his face into my neck, making my skin tingle with an unwelcome rush of pleasure. I grit my teeth against the sensation, trying to keep my composure, but the way he glances at me—like a wounded, lovesick dog—makes my resolve falter.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice rough with desperation. “Unless you take me back, I won’t stop. I’d rather die than give up on you.”

His words hit like a punch to the chest, but I refuse to let him see the effect they have on me. I narrow my eyes, letting my anger flare instead. “That’s a lot coming from you, Jose. Saying something like that is a waste of my time. What’s changed in less than a day?” My voice is sharp, cutting through the air between us.

He places a hand on my hip, his touch searing through my clothes. “I ruined what we had, Marisol. I destroyed my relationship with three of our sons—all because of my ego. It’s like living in a coma, reliving all the disgusting things I’ve done. But… are you done with me for good?”

His words crack something inside me, but I refuse to let him see the way they affect me. He takes my hand, guiding it behind his neck, and leans into the side of my neck where his mark has been for thirty-two long years. He presses his lips there, and then, just like old times, he starts to nibble and suck on that spot, sending shivers down my spine.

A moan escapes my lips before I can stop it. His body presses against mine, and I can feel him harden, his arousal pressing against my stomach. He keeps sucking at the mark, leaving new hickeys, and my knees weaken despite my best efforts to resist him. I hold onto him tightly, struggling not to let the heat rise in me, but I’m losing the battle.

Just when I think I’m about to give in, my beeper goes off, cutting through the moment like a lifeline. I yank myself away from him, walking backward with a shaky laugh. “I’m so sorry, Jose. Duty calls.”

I don’t wait for his response. I turn on my heel and head straight for the emergency hall, forcing my mind to focus on anything but the man I just left behind. When I arrive, I’m met with the sight of a chaotic waiting room, filled with injured wolves. My lips curl into a sarcastic smile as I take in the scene. “Ai Que Bien,” I mutter under my breath. “Oh, very nice.”

It’s a mess, but at least it’s a distraction from the mess inside me.

Jose POV

I stumble out of the flat, my mind still spinning from what feels like the worst kind of defeat. Passing out in my son’s apartment—after everything that’s happened—feels like hitting rock bottom.

It’s funny, really, I think, letting out a bitter chuckle. A strong guy like me, a real building machine, taken down by a goddess. Thirty-two years spent adoring, worshipping, and caring for the most incredible queen. And now, I’m here, reliving every moment we shared, every touch, every look. It’s like torture—sweet, beautiful torture.

“Marisol,” I whisper to the empty space, feeling the ache deep in my chest. “You’ve made me live like this—alone, broken, just me and our oldest son, in his apartment for three years.” The words feel like a confession, like something I’ve buried too long. “Why? Why did I let my pride, my stubbornness, get in the way?”

Thank the gods above that my oldest son let me stay with him, even when I didn’t deserve it. I know I’m still lost, weak, and damaged, but at least he hasn’t turned his back on me completely.

I catch a scent in the air, something faint but familiar. It pulls me out of my thoughts, urging me to get up, to find out what’s going on. I need to get Marisol back.

“I won’t lose you, mi Reina,” I mutter to myself, clenching my fists. “Not now, not ever, even in death. Why are those three so annoying, anyway?”

I think back to the mess I made, not just with Marisol but with our three youngest sons. I didn’t have these problems with the two oldest. Where did I go wrong?

I know I’m part of the problem, but I’ve spent years trying to convince Marisol to leave those three with someone else. Jonathan, the oldest of the three by just two months, is gay and can’t even lift a hammer without complaining about breaking a nail. Where exactly did I fail him?

I close my eyes, trying to push away the frustration that rises like a tide. And then there’s Mario… clumsy as ever, acting like a five-year-old even though he’s fourteen. Always talks big about bravery, but folds like a scared cat when things get tough.

And Carlos… my heart clenches. Carlos, with his autism, his speech problems, and those thick glasses that make him look so fragile. He’ll never be a soldier. He’ll never be…

I stop myself, feeling the weight of my thoughts pressing down on my chest. Marisol urged me to go to therapy, and I did—at first for her, then for myself. But instead of helping, it only makes me angrier, watching Carlos’s slow progress. A snail could move faster than his ‘improvement’.

I force myself to take a deep breath, to try to calm the storm inside me. But every time I close my eyes, all I see is her—Marisol. It’s been like this for three years. How do I keep going without her?

Sadness hits me like a wave when I think about the first time I saw her. She beat me in a self-defense class. I couldn’t look away from those clear green eyes, from the way her body moved—strong, fierce, relentless. She knocked me down two out of five times. That never happens to me. I was captivated, hooked from that moment on.

I need you, my queen.

My phone rings, cutting through my thoughts. I don’t even bother checking the caller ID before answering. “¿Como estado, viejo? Bendición,” I greet, trying to sound normal. It’s my father on the line.

“Que Selena te me cuide te me guarde y te me favorezca, ¿mera pudisteis con lo de Marisol?” he asks, his voice carrying that same old edge, but there’s curiosity there too. Did you handle things with Marisol?

I sigh, feeling the weight of the rejection all over again. “I got rejected, old man. How does that sound?”

He laughs—no, he cackles—like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in years. “Jajajaja, oh, how the tables turned on the almighty Prieto Delta. Jajajaja!” His laughter grates on my nerves. He’s always been like this, no heart for his only son.

Anger bubbles up in my chest. “Listen here, old man, if you called just to pick on me, I’m hanging up.”

His tone shifts, sharper, more biting. “Okay, then go ahead and insult me, run away, and treat me like this. If you can do it to your three youngest sons, this shouldn’t bother you at all. After all, what’s so important about a gay boy, a boy who is always scared, and a boy who has a disability if their own father doesn’t want them?”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless. He doesn’t hold back, and the truth stings like salt in a wound. Marisol was right.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out his voice, but then a new scent drifts through the air—one that I know too well. It’s hers. Even now, even after everything, the pull between us is still there, as strong as ever.

Marisol… I’m not done. I won’t give up on you. I know I’m too old for this, but I’m not letting go just like that. Not now, not ever.

A slow, determined smile spreads across my face. The game is only getting started, my queen.

Mario POV

When I saw Luismi get thrown down to the ground floor of the mansion, my heart jumped into my throat. I couldn’t help the flash of fear that ran through me. But then, I caught a glimpse of him moving from the tree to the ground floor of the pack house, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Just as I turned my attention back to the fight, I saw Luna Zorangel stepping forward to confront a rogue. The rogue swung its paw, catching her across the face, and she staggered back. My pulse quickened, and I felt a surge of panic rise up in my chest. When the rogue went in for the kill, I rushed forward, standing between them with a kitchen knife gripped tightly in my hand. I plunged it into the ground, bracing myself against the weight of the rogue’s unsteady movements.

It was tough holding my ground. The rogue was unbalanced, swaying as it tried to regain control. My muscles ached, my arms trembling from the strain, but I gritted my teeth and held firm. “I’m going to check on Luismi, Luna,” I called out, my voice barely steady.

She nodded at me, and I gave her a quick look before heading back the way I came. But just as I turned, Luna Zorangel called out, her voice carrying a hint of urgency. “Let’s go together, Mario. I want to see what’s going on and help if I can. Come on.”

I paused, raising an eyebrow at her as she tried to tidy herself up—straightening her clothes and brushing back her hair. It was a bit strange, but who was I to question the Luna’s quirks? “Okay,” I replied with a shrug, placing my hands behind my head as we started moving.

As we walked through the halls, the air heavy with the metallic scent of blood, we came across more and more wounded pack members. Omegas lay on the ground, blood pooling around them, their breaths shallow and pained. I swallowed hard, fighting the unease that crawled up my spine. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. But then, what was ever how it was supposed to be?

Ahead of us, a flash of movement caught my eye. The Delta was sprinting towards us, his expression grim. He skidded to a stop when he saw Luna Zorangel, dropping to one knee out of respect. She nodded at him, but her focus was elsewhere—on a rogue slumped against the wall, unconscious but still alive.

She mind-linked two warriors, and they leaped down from the second balcony, landing with barely a sound. The Luna grabbed hold of the rogue, and I knew they’d be dragging him down to the dungeons. The dungeons—dark, cold, and buried beneath the pack house—weren’t easy to get out of, but my father practically lived there with his ‘company.’ Everyone knew to steer clear when he was down there, doing whatever it was he did.

The Luna and I continued on, making our way past more fallen pack members. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, the urge to do something, anything, pressing down on me. But I had to stay focused.

“Mario, stay sharp,” I muttered to myself, trying to shake off the feeling of dread. But as we moved further, the air grew colder, and the weight of the situation settled over me like a heavy cloak.

When we reached the entrance to the dungeons, my father was there, lying on the ground with his nose practically buried between his front paws. He looked up when he saw me, his eyes tired but watchful. He’s always been the strong, unbreakable one, the shield and sword of our pack. The she-wolves adore him—call him El jevo de Nuestra tribu (the hunk of our tribe). But me? I just don’t get it. Seriously, my dad? The war machine? It’s all so surreal sometimes.

He took a step towards me, closing the distance between us until he was only two steps away. He lifted his arm like he was going to put it on my shoulder, but I took three steps back before he could. The hurt flashed in his eyes, and I could see him silently accepting my choice, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

I busied myself with cleaning the knife, wiping it down with small pieces of cloth. As I worked, I forced myself to break the silence. “Left area’s cleared, Luna’s safe, as you can see. Two warriors took an unconscious rogue to the cells.”

Dad tried to offer a smile, but it looked strained, like he was trying too hard. “Naaa, you’ve gotta be pulling my leg, right?” I huffed, taking a step back, then turned and moved a bit to get out of his line of sight.

Leaving him and Luna to their own business, I hurried back towards the pack house, only to be stopped by a warrior. “Kiko, take this to your mom and make sure the rest of the pack are present. Even if they’re in critical condition, understood?”

I nodded eagerly, feeling a sense of purpose ignite inside me. It was like Christmas morning for me—finally, something useful I could do. He handed me another machine and a small pack filled with patches. With a grin, I tucked everything in place and ran towards the pack house hospital, situated above our main building.

The pack house hospital looked like a grand mansion perched on the side of a mountain, with its high walls and wraparound balconies. The parking lot was mostly for ambulances, while the top landing pad was for helicopters. As I reached the entrance, I was relieved to see that most of the patients were already stabilized.

I got to work, stitching up wounds and applying patches, losing myself in the rhythm of the task. But then, halfway through, I looked up and saw my mom standing in front of me, her clothes soaked in blood and… was that snot on her forehead? I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing.

She blew her bangs out of her face, looking annoyed. “Glad to see you’re having fun, Mario,” she grumbled.

I couldn’t stop laughing, her irritation only fueling my amusement. “I’m almost done with them, Mom. Only about fifteen are in critical condition, but they’ll heal. They just need a bit more time. How’s it looking outside?”

She gave me that knowing mom look, crossing her arms. “And what about you, Mr. Vampire? How’s the sun treating you?”

Stretching my arms with a dramatic groan, I joked, “The sun’s too bright for my vampire body, so I ran in here to feed and survive the horrible sight.”

She snorted at my lame joke. “Vampires don’t exist here, Mario.”

“Tell that to the chupacabra, Ma,” I shot back, grinning as I continued with my work. But before I could finish, another warrior stepped in, looking serious.

“Mario, the Alpha needs you in his office right away,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I glanced at my mom, unsure, but she gave me a reassuring nod. “Go on, Mario. I’ll handle things here.”

I followed the warrior through the winding halls, my mind racing with a thousand possibilities. When I stepped into the Alpha’s office, I was greeted by the sight of Beta, Gamma, and Delta, all gathered around, waiting for me. A moment later, the door swung open, and in walked Jonathan, Cierra, and John Gabriel—each of them looking just as surprised to see me.

The Alpha’s gaze swept over us, and I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride when he praised our efforts. But as the conversation shifted, the room grew tense. He cleared his throat, looking each of us over with a serious expression.

“Before we address anything else, there are a few matters to be settled,” the Alpha began, his tone firm. “There have been whispers among the pack, and it seems some private matters have become public. This behavior won’t be tolerated, and it starts with addressing those responsible.”

Giovana was already seated nearby, her expression tense as she clutched a voice recorder and a stack of papers. When the Alpha turned his attention to her, she tried to defend herself. “Alpha, I wasn’t—”

“I’m not asking for explanations, Giovana,” he cut her off, his aura pressing down on all of us. “Your desk will be relocated to my office, and your actions will be watched closely. Is that clear?”

She dipped her head in submission, and even I felt the weight of his Alpha aura pressing down on me. The air was thick, and it seemed like everyone was holding their breath until he relaxed his stance.

The Alpha’s gaze shifted back to us, and this time, there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “You three protected our pack well today. Cierra, you managed to hold off six rogues with only your training. Jonathan, your work near the bunkers was impressive. But I have to ask, who trained you and Mario?”

Jonathan puffed up a little, a small grin breaking through his serious expression. “Ma and Luis both took their time with us, Alpha. Made sure we were ready.”

I grinned too, giving a little nod of agreement. Everyone in the room laughed, even the Alpha, though his smile was brief. Then he turned his attention to John Gabriel, nodding approvingly. “John, you did well shielding the Omegas today. You put your pack first.”

Finally, the Alpha looked at me, his expression unreadable. My stomach twisted with nerves, but I straightened my shoulders, bracing myself for whatever he had to say.

“Mario, you showed true leadership today. You refused to give any information to the rogues. You stayed focused, defended yourself, and protected the Luna. You even managed to help gather intelligence while ensuring the safety of your fellow pack members. That shows promise.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the praise. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. But then I felt a swell of pride, knowing that despite everything, I had made a difference.

As the Alpha shifted the conversation to more serious matters—about Diana’s mysterious arrival, the strange folder, and the unsettling discoveries—I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting back to the chaos of the day. The fights, the blood, the desperation. I knew things wouldn’t be the same after this, but maybe, just maybe, we’d come out of it stronger.

One way or another, we’d get through this. We had to.