Percular Pup

She survived

Montserrat slammed the front door behind her, the sound echoing through the house like a warning shot. Claudia curled up on the couch with a book and looked up sharply. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing. Without a word, Montserrat exhaled through her nose, her jaw clenched and stomped up the stairs.

"Montserrat," Jairo called out, his voice firm as he shut the door behind him.

She paused, hand on the banister, standing on the second-to-last step. Slowly, she turned to face him. Her face was blank, her posture stiff. Jairo’s eyes scanned her face like he was searching for something—something buried.

She forced a small smile. "Dad?"

Jairo didn’t answer right away. The words Alice had told him were still echoing in his mind, weighing heavy on his chest. "My father died protecting Montserrat." He couldn’t shake it.

"Is something wrong with Alice or Ryan?" Montserrat asked, trying to keep her voice even. Jairo shook his head slowly but didn’t speak.

She stared at him, confused. His silence unnerved her. That stare—unblinking and filled with questions—sent a chill down her spine. But she just nodded and turned back, continuing up the stairs without another word.

She closed her bedroom door behind her and slid down to the floor, her back against it. Her eyes stayed fixed on the doorknob. Tears clung to her lashes, but she didn’t let them fall. Not yet.

Outside, Claudia stepped into the hallway, watching Jairo. “What was that about?”

Jairo didn’t answer. “It’s fine,” he said flatly, brushing past her and walking to his office.

Inside, the door shut with a soft click. He sat down at his desk, but couldn’t focus. The sentence echoed again. "He died protecting Montserrat."

He pulled a blank page from the tray and began scribbling down fragmented memories—arguments, timelines, voices raised in anger. Montserrat had been fifteen. Almost sixteen. So much of that year was a blur—grief, fury, silence. And Claudia… her silence had said more than her words.

A knock at the office door startled him. He checked the clock—2:30 p.m.

“Come in,” he called out, voice steady.

An omega entered, carrying a tray. “Laura said you missed lunch.”

“Where’s Montserrat?” Jairo asked as he stood.

“In her room, Alpha,” the Omega replied softly.

Jairo only hummed in response. He didn’t look up as she left. He picked at the sandwich, then set it down unfinished. His legs moved before his mind decided. He found himself outside Montserrat’s door.

Inside, Montserrat sat motionless on the floor, her eyes vacant, lost in thought. A memory. That day. The blood. The screaming. The silence that followed.

She didn’t hear the knock.

Jairo opened the door slowly and stepped inside. His gaze softened the moment he saw her—crumpled on the floor, her shoulders slumped. He sat down beside her, not speaking.

“I didn’t mean to hide it,” she whispered finally. “It’s just… you get angry, and Mom… sometimes she acts like she hears me but doesn’t listen. So I kept it to myself.”

Jairo didn’t scold her. He just reached over and took her hand.

“Let me tell you a story,” she said, voice low. “About a girl who had everything. Strong, bright, special… too trusting for her good. She met her mate at thirteen. Young, but sure. She believed it was fate. They were happy. Until the day everything went wrong.” Montserrat’s eyes flicked toward him, lips trembling.

“She was fifteen when it happened,” she continued. “Out with him. They were ambushed. She couldn’t shift. Couldn’t fight. Two people died that day. Both protect her. She survived—but something in her never did.”

A silence settled over the room.

“Monty…” he said gently.

She looked at him, and for the first time in years, her pain was visible—raw, sharp, and heavy. Her lip quivered as she flung herself into his arms. The sob that tore from her chest wasn’t loud—but it broke something inside Jairo. He had never seen his daughter cry like this. She always kept her pain tucked away like a secret. He just held her.

After a while, Montserrat pulled back, sniffling. “They don’t have anywhere to go. Alice and Ryan. I know it’s a lot, but…”

“It’s okay, Monty,” he said gently. “I already had two rooms prepared for them.”

Her face crumpled into something between gratitude and disbelief. She wiped her eyes, trying to smile.

“When were you going to tell me?” Jairo asked softly.

Montserrat looked down at her lap. “I wasn’t.”

Jairo sighed, leaning back. “You had your reasons. I only wish you’d trusted me sooner. I wouldn’t have judged you.”

She nodded but didn’t speak. The quiet between them was heavy.“Dad,” she asked quietly, “do you think… I’ll ever get a second mate?”

Jairo blinked, surprised. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He hesitated.

“You okay?” Montserrat asked brow furrowed at his reaction.

“I’m fine,” Jairo said, recovering. “It’s just… your mom brought that up too. About second chances. It’s strange to hear it from both of you.”

“You and Mom talked?” she asked, arching a brow. “No yelling involved?”

He laughed—really laughed. “We had an actual conversation. Civilized and everything.”

Montserrat narrowed her eyes playfully. “Who are you and what have you done with my father?”

They both laughed then, the tension dissolving for a fleeting moment.

But down the hall, Claudia stood silently, listening to their laughter.

And jealousy sank its claws into her.

Jairo was different with Montserrat. Warmer. More careful. But how could he not be? His wolf—Zarah—knew something that Claudia didn’t.

The truth.