Valencia!

Fifteen

Maximus barely registered the words flying from his father’s mouth until the tone shifted. “Maximus, are you even listening to me?! God dammit, boy, what the hell is wrong with you lately?” He blinked, unfazed. “I’m listening,” he replied flatly. “You said you wanted the succession ceremony for Griffin and me to happen sometime next year.”

He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the desk, but his father snatched it up before he could take a swig. “This has to stop,” his father said, a thread of empathy slipping into his otherwise stern voice. “What has to stop, Dad?” Maximus asked, though he already knew the answer. The silence between them was heavy as his father set the bottle back down.

Maximus immediately snatched it again, popped the cap, and poured it down his throat. “It’s been almost seven months, son,” his father said more gently this time. “It’s time to move forward.” The bottle hit the desk with a hard clunk as Maximus slammed it down, the unspoken warning clear.

“I’m fine. But thanks for the pep talk,” he muttered and stood to leave. “Max, I’m just trying to help,” his father added, a hint of defeat in his voice. “I don’t need your help. I do everything that’s expected of me and more. There’s nothing to be concerned about.” Without another word, Maximus turned and walked out.

He didn’t make it far before Terra found him. “Oh, there you are, Maxi!” She chirped with fake enthusiasm. “What is it, Terra?” He asked, clearly annoyed. “Well,” she began, twisting her voice to sound flirtatious, “you haven’t responded to any of my messages, and I haven’t seen you around, so I figured I’d track you down and tell you what we’re having!”

“You’re mistaken if you think I care,” Maximus cut in coldly. “And I don’t want to see you.” He tried to move past her, but she stepped into his path again. “I’ve been trying really hard to make this work . . .”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” he snapped, gesturing between them. “This? It’s not now, not ever again, going to work.” Her face twisted, venom curling around her next words. “Well, you should know, Valencia got engaged. That little w***e moved on. Now you need to move on too, Maxi! We’re having a pup together!”

His body went rigid as rage surged through him. He stalked toward her, fury etched in every step. Before he could say something he’d regret, his father stepped out of the office. “Terra, how many times have I told you not to come here looking for Maximus?” he barked, his patience worn thin.

“I just thought . . .” “You thought wrong. Why don’t you go cool off in my office.” He ushered her away gently but firmly. Maximus sneered at both of them and stormed toward the stairwell, fists clenched at his sides.

Later that night, the pack party was in full swing. Music pulsed, lights flashed, and the air reeked of alcohol and pheromones. Maximus barely felt any of it. He stood on the sidelines, drink in hand, as Griffin appeared beside him.

“This party is dope, Max. Did you see that she-wolf in the thong bikini back there? She was a stunner,” Griffin said, nudging him with an elbow and handing over another beer. “Come on. Enjoy yourself for once.”

Maximus stared blankly into the crowd, his voice hollow. “Is it true?” Griffin frowned. “Is what true?” “That your sister’s engaged to Tylon Sable,” Maximus replied, spitting the name out like venom.

Griffin sighed. “Max . . . you know you’re my best friend. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.” “So she is,” Maximus muttered bitterly and drained the beer in his hand. He rose and headed toward the kitchen in search of another.

Voices floated through the hallway. Giggling, whispering, unmistakably female. He paused when he heard Tylon’s name mentioned. He lingered by the doorway, eavesdropping without shame. “ . . .Tylon is so damn romantic. Here’s the video he posted.”

One of the she-wolves pulled out her phone, and Maximus's ears sharpened at the sound of Tylon’s voice coming through the speaker. “Valen, you’ve been my best friend since the fifth grade,” the recording played. “You’re the most loving, selfless, and intelligent woman I’ve ever known . . .”

Maximus crossed the room in a few strides and snatched the phone from her hand. “Let me see this for a second.” He hit play. The screen showed Valencia . . . his Valencia . . . standing in a candlelit room, rose petals scattered all around her. Her smile was radiant, her laughter effortless.

“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy, even on your worst days, and you have some intense worst days,” Tylon joked on the video, earning a melodic laugh from her that made Maximus’s chest clench.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of her happiness wash over him, twist inside him like a dagger. “But honestly, Valen . . . I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Would you please, for the love of the Goddess . . .” Maximus hit pause before the words finished, jaw tight, and handed the phone back to the stunned girl.

“Thanks,” he muttered, forcing a half-hearted smile. He turned away quickly, chugged the rest of his beer, then stalked over to the fridge and yanked out two full cases. The hollow ache inside him had only grown deeper. And for the first time, Maximus realized the one thing that terrified him most . . . He had already lost her.

He dragged the cases of beer out onto the deck behind the party house, away from the music, the dancing, the heat of bodies pressed together in celebration. Away from the laughter that grated against his nerves like broken glass.

He dropped into one of the wooden chairs, the old one that creaked under his weight, and cracked open a can. Then another. And another. The stars above blurred the longer he stared up at them, but not from drink. It was the pressure behind his eyes, the weight in his chest.

He didn’t cry, Maximus Calloway didn’t cry, but the pain was real, raw, and radiating beneath every breath he took. She looked happy. Radiant. She laughed like she had never once belonged to him. But she had . . . She had.

He hadn’t marked her, hadn’t claimed her, hadn’t fought for her . . . not when it mattered. And now she was someone else’s. No, worse . . . she was Tylon’s. The loyal best friend. The soft, stable one who’d waited in the wings. The one who’d actually shown up.

Maximus downed another can, barely tasting it. He thought of her and, the way it had been the last time he’d seen her. He’d caught glimpses in passing of social media posts she didn’t tag him in, photos Griffin hadn’t meant to leave lying around. She was glowing. Happy. And she was giving that new life a future with someone else.

He clenched the can so hard it crumpled in his fist. Why didn’t I just wait for my mate? He thought bitterly. If he had, none of this would have happened. No chaos. No pup. No Terra f*****g Adams.

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, head bowed. “I should have gone after her,” he muttered to no one. “I should have fought.” But he hadn’t. He let the silence between them grow until it was irreversible. He let the politics, the expectations, the fear of Terra's retaliation keep him paralyzed. Now all he could do was watch as someone else held the life he could have had.

A laugh burst from inside the party house, carefree and unbothered. Maximus didn’t move. He just sat there, still and hollow, surrounded by half-empty cans and the echoes of everything he’d lost. And somewhere, beneath the layers of pride and grief and the beer dulling his senses, he knew the truth:

He could still fight for her. But the question that haunted him now wasn’t if he wanted to. It was whether he had already run out of time.