Valencia!

Eighteen

The sky hung heavy over Pine Ridge as storm clouds rolled in, casting a grim pall over the pack’s sacred burial grounds. Wind stirred the trees with a low, moaning sound, and the air carried the distant threat of rain.

A somber crowd huddled around a fresh grave, their silence punctuated only by the soft weeping of a mother who had just buried her daughter. Terra Adams had been executed at sunrise. Her death was public, her crimes undeniable.

Paternity fraud against the future Alpha. But even now, standing beneath the low-hanging branches of the forest’s edge, Maximus Calloway couldn’t bring himself to feel anything close to guilt.

He watched the Adams family from a distance, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his expression carved from stone. If anything, the sight of their grief stirred something bitter in him. Not pity. Not sorrow. Contempt. If he could’ve ensured that none of them remained to cause more pain in the future, he might’ve done it. Every one of them had played a part in Terra’s lies.

Maximus’s jaw clenched as his thoughts drifted back to that night. Graduation. The moment everything had started to unravel. He had taken the time, he remembered it clearly, to drive to Terra’s home and end things with her face to face. He’d tried to be respectful, to be decent.

She hadn’t said a single word then about being pregnant. Not one. Not a tear, not a whisper of accusation. If she had, he might’ve paused. He might’ve questioned himself. But instead, she had waited. Waited until he was with Valencia, his mate, before dropping the lie like a curse between them.

He scoffed to himself, his gaze narrowing on the headstone being lowered into place. Terra always knew how to play the victim when it suited her. Deep down, he hated himself for falling for it, for doubting his instincts.

He had never once taken a risk like that with anyone. Except for one night, with Valencia. The only time he’d ever allowed himself to forget control, to give in to something bigger than the rules he lived by. And the only time it had ever felt right.

“I should have waited,” he muttered to himself, fingers curling at his sides. “If I had just waited for my mate . . .” But he hadn’t. And that mistake had cost him everything. The betrayal. The pregnancy. The public spectacle. The loss of Valencia. All of it traced back to that single, reckless decision.

Footsteps approached from the gravel path behind him. At first, he ignored them, assuming it was Griffin, or one of the elders come to pull him away from the scene. But when the scent hit him, familiar, bitter, young, he turned slowly, his face blank.

Melissa Adams stood there, eyes red and swollen with grief. Her body trembled with a mix of sorrow and fury. A tear streaked down her cheek as she stared up at him, her hands clenched at her sides. “Why?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “Why did you have to do that? Why did you have to kill her?”

Maximus looked down at her without flinching. His voice was flat. “A life for a life.” Her face twisted with disgust. “Clearly, you’re still breathing, asshole.” A hollow laugh escaped him, but there was no humor in it. Only emptiness. “I wish that’s all it took to truly feel alive,” he growled under his breath, warning her not to press him further.

She glared up at him with eyes that burned like coals. “You think you’re untouchable,” she snapped. “But I hope your precious little mate sees you for what you really are.”

Maximus’s face didn’t change, but his wolf stirred beneath the surface, restless, seething. He could smell the hatred coming off her in waves. She wasn’t just grieving. She was looking for someone to blame, and she’d found him.

Melissa turned on her heel, storming back to the Adams family, who stood in a huddle near the grave. Her mother held her tightly, while her father’s eyes locked with Maximus’s for a brief moment. Not a single word was exchanged, but the message was clear. This wasn’t over.

Maximus stayed where he was, unmoving, as the rain began to fall in soft, misting sheets. Droplets beaded on his jacket, clung to his lashes, and blurred the edges of the gray world around him. But he didn’t blink them away.

He needed to feel it. The cold. The weight. The quiet reminder of everything he’d lost. Valencia’s laughter echoed faintly in his memory, and it was almost enough to break him. Almost.

He didn’t flinch as thunder cracked in the distance. The Adams family slowly began to disperse, one by one retreating from the graveyard and vanishing into the woods beyond. Maximus remained long after they’d gone.

There were no words left to speak. No apologies to offer. No redemption to be earned from the people who would always hate him for what had happened. And he didn’t want it. He hadn’t made that decision for them. He had done it for the truth. For the future he was still trying to build. For the woman who might still come home.

When the rain grew heavier, soaking through his clothes and dripping from his jaw, he finally turned and walked away, leaving behind the stone, the soil, and the lie that had haunted him for too long. The dead could rest now. But he would not.

The scent of rain still clung to Maximus as he stepped back into the pack house, peeling off his soaked jacket and tossing it across a chair. The silence of the halls pressed in around him, broken only by the muffled sounds of movement deeper inside, the Beta staff preparing for the upcoming succession ceremony.

It was only a few months away now. Not long until he would stand before the entire Pine Ridge Pack as their next Alpha . . . until Valencia would return.

Maximus ran a hand through his damp blond hair, his jaw set. He hadn’t slept much in the past few nights, and when he did, it was never restful. But there was no more room for hesitation. Not after everything that had happened. Not after what he had lost.

He entered the main office where Griffin was already sorting through RSVPs and ceremonial customs, his sleeves rolled up and a pen behind his ear. “You’re late,” Griffin said without looking up. “I went to the burial,” Maximus replied, voice clipped.

Griffin paused, then gave a subtle nod. “Didn’t expect you to stay long.” “I didn’t.” Maximus crossed the room and grabbed the event binder off the table. “Where are we with seating?” “Elders finalized the layout this morning. Your family has been listed under honored guests, front right.” Griffin hesitated, glancing up. “You sure about that?” “Your sister’s still a member of this pack,” Maximus said, eyes scanning the paper. “Until she tells me otherwise, that doesn’t change . . . even if she’s with him.” Griffin didn’t argue.

Maximus set the folder down and walked to the window, arms crossed over his chest as he looked out toward the forest clearing beyond the training fields. The spot where the ceremony would take place had already been marked, the crescent moon altar rebuilt and polished, ready to receive the next Alpha’s blessing.

Everything was falling into place. Except his heart. “She’s pregnant,” Griffin said carefully, as if reading his thoughts. “That’s not something you can just ignore.” “I’m not ignoring it,” Maximus answered. “I’m accepting it.” His voice was steady, even if his soul still ached. “Because she was mine long before any of this happened. And the truth is, I failed her. I let the lies and confusion get between us. This” . . . he motioned toward the plans and documents . . . “this is my second chance.”

Griffin leaned against the table, arms folded. “You’re really going to make your move at the ceremony?” “I don’t have time to play games, Griff,” Maximus said. “She deserves answers. She deserves to know I still choose her.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the ticking clock on the far wall. Griffin gave him a half-smile. “You really are an i***t for her.” “I’ve always been an i***t for her,” Maximus replied with the ghost of a smile. “I just didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

He turned back to the table and picked up the ceremonial attire request, black and silver, with the Calloway crest stitched into the shoulders. Regal, commanding. But none of it would matter if she refused to show up. Still, he would be ready.