Chapter 6 — The Things They Had Promised
4462 Words
Adrian woke because someone was shaking his shoulder.
“Papa.”
He opened one eye.
A small face hovered above him.
“Papa.”
Adrian closed his eye again.
“I’m sleeping.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You answered.”
Adrian sighed deeply.
“That was a very convincing sleep.”
The other child giggled.
Adrian opened both eyes.
Two pairs of eyes were looking down at him.
One child’s hair was sticking out in every direction.
The other had dragged a blanket along behind them.
Adrian studied them for a moment.
“Is it morning?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a tragedy.”
“We’re hungry.”
“Even worse.”
One of the children climbed onto the sofa.
The other grabbed his hand.
“Come on.”
Adrian let himself be pulled to his feet.
His back protested.
His neck protested.
Sleeping on a sofa had seemed like a practical solution last night.
This morning it felt like a punishment.
His wolf snorted.
“You are getting old.”
“I'm forty-three.”
“Exactly.”
Adrian ignored him.
“Okay,” he said. “But if I’m making breakfast, you have to help.”
“How?”
“By not eating everything before I’m finished.”
One of the children considered this very seriously.
“That might be difficult.”
Adrian couldn’t help smiling.
“I know.”
A short while later, the kitchen was filled with sound.
An audio story played from the speaker on the windowsill.
The children sat at the table with paper and coloured pencils.
Adrian stood by the stove.
He was making pancakes.
Not because they were necessary.
But because the children had asked for them.
He had tried to persuade them to have a more sensible breakfast.
Without success.
So there were pancakes.
But he also made scrambled eggs.
Bread.
Fruit.
Coffee for himself.
And coffee for his wife.
He couldn’t quite remember when he had started making breakfast for the entire household.
Perhaps he had always done it.
Perhaps it had simply become one of those things he did without thinking.
One of the children began singing along with the audio story.
Adrian did the same.
Deliberately off-key.
The child at the table let out a shriek of laughter.
“Papa! You sing badly!”
“That’s a lie.”
“You really sing badly.”
Adrian flipped a pancake into the air.
“I sing like a professional.”
“No!”
“I’ve sung in front of thousands of people.”
“You have not!”
“That’s because they couldn’t handle my voice.”
The children dissolved into laughter.
Adrian smiled as he flipped another pancake.
For a moment, it was easy.
For a moment, there were no reports.
No meetings.
No expeditions.
No border negotiations.
Only children laughing around the kitchen table.
Then he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Slow.
Purposeful.
Adrian glanced towards the doorway.
A moment later, his wife appeared.
She stopped in the doorway.
Her gaze moved first to the speaker.
Then to the children.
Then to Adrian.
“Is it really necessary for it to be that loud?”
Adrian looked over his shoulder.
“Good morning.”
She did not answer the greeting.
“I could hear it upstairs.”
“That was the idea.”
The children giggled.
Adrian sent them a look.
“That was a joke.”
His wife sighed.
“And you’re singing.”
Adrian placed a hand over his chest.
“I sing beautifully.”
“You do not.”
“That’s not what the children say.”
“The children also think it’s funny when you pretend to be a bear.”
Adrian looked at her.
“That is a very important part of my role as a father.”
She did not look entertained.
Adrian turned back to the stove.
He let it go.
For the children’s sake.
He placed the last pancakes on a plate.
“Good morning,” he said again.
This time, he received a short:
“Good morning. You made pancakes?”
Adrian sat down at the table.
“I was outvoted.”
“I can see that.”
She looked at the cup of coffee he’d made her.
“For me?”
Adrian nodded.
“Yes.”
Breakfast continued.
Not quite as easily as before.
But the children were still talking.
They showed them their drawings.
They argued over who had drawn the best dragon.
Adrian listened.
He asked questions.
He laughed at all the right moments.
And when one of the children dropped a piece of pancake on the table, he acted as though it were a catastrophe of historic proportions.
His wife sat across from him.
Quiet.
Adrian could feel her watching him.
"Beta Oliver sent your schedule."
She looked at him.
“I know.”
Her expression changed.
“I saw you’re leaving today.”
“I am.”
She looked at him for a second.
“You forgot to tell me.”
The conversation fell silent.
Adrian put his fork down.
“Can you take the kids to the puppy pen today?”
“You know I can’t, Adrian. I have Pilates!”
Adrian looked down at his hands for a moment.
“I know.”
Silence fell again.
The she sighed.
Not a tired sigh, but one of annoyance.
“I’ll move it.”
Adrian looked at her.
“I appreciate it, thank you.”
She nodded her head.
“Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever moves plans for me."
She looked at him.
She wasn't wrong.
That was the problem.
She rarely was.
His duty always came first.
Not because he wanted it to.
Because it had to.
His wolf remained silent.
Even he had no argument.
But that was the price they paid, when their wolves didn’t connect. He had hoped, with time, that they would. That their mindlink would be stronger, more connected. But it was ordinary.
His jaw tightened.
“I’m asking you to take the children—our children—to spend the day with their friends at the pup nursery. Once they’re there, you can continue with your day as planned.”
“You’re asking me to change my plans.”
“I’m asking you for help.”
“You always ask when it suits you.”
“It doesn’t suit me.”
She looked at him.
Adrian let a moment of silence settle between them.
“I would do it myself, like I usually do,” he said. “But I don’t have the time today.”
“Because you’re never home.”
Adrian looked at her.
“I’m home now.”
“That’s not the same.”
His gaze drifted across the table.
The children were still there.
One was drawing.
The other was trying to reach the last piece of pancake without being noticed.
Adrian drew a breath.
“Okay.”
He stood.
“Are you finished eating?”
Both children looked up.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He pointed towards the hallway.
“Then you’d better hurry and brush your teeth.”
One child sighed.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a very important mission for you.”
The children immediately looked more interested.
Adrian leaned across the table.
“I’ve heard there’s a dangerous creature in this house.”
Both children froze.
“A creature?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Adrian lowered his voice.
“A creature that eats children who don’t brush their teeth.”
One child jumped down from the chair.
“I’m going now!”
The other followed.
“Wait for me!”
Adrian pointed after them.
“And remember—”
The children turned.
“If the creature discovers that you haven’t brushed properly—”
They ran.
Adrian shook his head.
“—then it’s your own fault,” he finished.
He waited until their footsteps disappeared down the hallway.
Then the smile vanished from his face.
His wife was still sitting at the table.
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“You already planned your entire day.”
“Yes.”
“And now you expect me to change mine.”
“I’m asking if you can help me today.”
“That’s the same thing.”
Adrian drew a slow breath.
“There’s been a disagreement over the southern border. I need to speak to their Alpha personally.”
“You could have sent someone else.”
“I could have.”
“But you’re not.”
“No.”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“So you’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
“And when you leave, everything changes here.”
Adrian looked at her.
“How?”
She gave a short laugh.
“You’re really asking?”
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
She looked at him for a moment.
“I have to make sure the children get to the pup nursery.”
“Yes.”
“I have to pick them up again.”
“Yes.”
“I have to manage their appointments. Their clothes. Their meals.”
“We have help.”
“Yes.”
“So—”
“A nanny, Adrian.”
She leaned back.
“A nanny can help. She can’t be me.”
Adrian said nothing.
“And if something happens, I’m the one who has to make the decision.”
“You do that when I’m home too.”
“Yes.”
“So what’s the difference?”
She looked at him.
“The difference is that when you’re home, I share it with you.”
Adrian fell silent.
She was right.
It wasn’t the same.
He couldn’t really argue with that.
He was the one who usually took the children to the pup nursery.
The one who got up when one of them woke during the night.
The one who read bedtime stories.
The one who made sure they had breakfast, even when the house was already filled with other things demanding his attention.
He did not do it as a favour to her.
He did it because he was their father.
And because he wanted to be.
“I can understand that it’s more difficult when I’m not here,” he said.
She looked at him.
It was clearly not the answer she had expected.
“It’s not just more difficult.”
“No.”
“It’s always me who has to adjust.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not always true.”
“No.”
She picked up her coffee and took a sip.
“Only almost always.”
Adrian couldn’t help smiling faintly.
She sent him a look.
“That wasn’t a joke.”
“I know.”
She set down her cup.
“You have your life.”
“So do you.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve never lacked for anything.”
Her gaze sharpened.
Adrian continued before she could answer.
“That wasn’t an accusation.”
“It sounded like one.”
“That wasn’t how I meant it.”
He looked at her.
“We both knew what we were saying yes to.”
Her expression shifted slightly.
“It wasn’t a fairytale.”
“No.”
“It was an agreement.”
“Yes.”
“A very advantageous agreement.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, there was almost a smile in his voice.
“It was.”
She looked back at him.
“You needed a Luna.”
“I needed a strong alliance.”
“And an heir.”
“Yes.”
“And a family.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“More children, if possible.”
Adrian nodded.
“Yes.”
He made no attempt to dress it up.
It had never been a secret.
“And I needed an Alpha.”
She lifted her chin slightly.
Adrian looked at her.
She settled more comfortably into her chair.
“I wasn’t born into an Alpha bloodline.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t have a fated mate who might suddenly appear and change my entire life.”
Adrian fell silent.
She continued.
“That was never a risk for me.”
He knew what she meant.
Wolves outside the old Alpha bloodlines could choose their mates.
They could marry.
Plan their lives.
Build their alliances.
They could climb.
And many did exactly that.
She had not been the first.
Nor would she be the last.
“You knew you could choose,” Adrian said.
“Yes.”
“And you chose me.”
She looked at him.
“I chose a Thorne.”
Adrian accepted the words without reacting.
“You did.”
“It was a strong match.”
“Politically.”
Adrian let a brief glance pass over her.
“You got what you wanted.”
She smiled faintly.
“So did you.”
Adrian did not answer immediately.
It was not an accusation.
And it was not entirely wrong.
He had gained a strong Luna.
A political alliance.
An heir.
A second child.
A future that, on paper, was far more secure than it had been before.
He had also gained a life he had chosen for himself.
It had not been love at first sight.
He had never expected it to be.
He had waited for his fated mate for years.
Long enough that the clans had eventually begun to talk.
An Alpha without a mate was not merely a man without a wife.
It was also a political uncertainty.
A weakness others might begin to notice.
So when Adrian turned thirty-five, he had made his choice.
He had said yes to an arrangement that was good for both of them.
He had hoped that something else might grow from it.
Not because he had demanded it.
Not because she had promised it.
But because he had thought that, with time, they might learn to care for one another in a different way.
Perhaps love could be built.
Perhaps it did not always arrive like lightning.
He had not been naïve enough to believe it would happen by itself.
But he had hoped.
And they had gained something.
Not what he had once been waiting for.
But something real nonetheless.
Two children.
A home.
A life.
A friendship built over the years.
It was not nothing.
“You knew what you were getting into,” his wife said.
Adrian looked at her.
“So did you.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I had been waiting for my mate.”
“I knew you hadn’t found her.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
She looked down at her hands.
“But I also knew that if you hadn’t found her by then, you might never find her.”
Adrian said nothing.
She had not said it as comfort.
She had said it as a statement of fact.
“You weren’t the only one taking a risk,” she continued.
Adrian looked at her.
“I know.”
“I could have chosen someone else.”
“Yes.”
“Another Alpha.”
“Yes.”
“One who had more time.”
Adrian said nothing.
“One who didn’t travel all the time.”
“I don’t travel all the time.”
She sent him a look.
Adrian decided not to argue.
“I could have had a different life,” she said.
“Yes.”
“But I chose you.”
“You did.”
She looked at him.
“So I don’t understand why you still expect me to adapt to yours.”
Adrian lowered his gaze.
It was a fair point.
He did not expect her to be him.
He did not expect her to love the same things he did.
Nor had he married her believing that one day she would wake up longing to spend her days in meetings and carrying out duties.
He had known who she was.
He had known from the beginning.
“I don’t,” he said.
She looked at him.
“No?”
“I don’t expect you to have the same life as me.”
“That’s how it feels.”
“I know.”
That made her fall silent.
Adrian looked at her.
“But the children are not only my life.”
She looked away.
“No.”
“They’re ours.”
“I know that.”
“And I want to be part of their everyday lives.”
“I know that too.”
“So when I’m home, I do that.”
“Yes.”
“And when I’m not home—”
“Then I do it.”
Adrian fell silent.
She had won that part of the argument.
Not because she had said something he could refute.
But because she was right.
When he travelled, his absence became extra work for her.
He could not change that by saying that the children were their shared responsibility.
She already knew that.
“I never said I didn’t love our children,” she said.
Adrian looked at her.
“I know.”
“I just don’t want my life to change every time you travel.”
“I understand.”
She looked at him.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you do.”
Adrian was about to answer.
Then he stopped himself.
Because perhaps he hadn’t understood before.
Not really.
He had thought of it as something practical.
She thought of it as something added on top of her life.
And then she smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
It was a smile Adrian knew.
A smile that meant she had had an idea.
“But there is a solution.”
Adrian immediately grew suspicious.
“There is?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
She ignored him.
“We could have another child.”
Adrian said nothing.
She leaned back in her chair.
“You wanted more children.”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“You love being a father.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Yes.”
“And you would love another heir.”
“It’s not about having an heir.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
Adrian sighed.
“It’s not only about that.”
“It would still be an advantage.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
A third Thorne would strengthen the family.
A son could become a future Alpha.
A daughter with strong Luna powers could strengthen the clan’s position.
A marriage to another Alpha could create an alliance.
He knew exactly how much a new child could mean.
And so did she.
Adrian looked at her.
“That’s not what you want.”
She smiled.
“Yes, it is.”
“You do want another child.”
“Yes.”
“But that’s not why you’re suggesting it now.”
Her smile grew a little wider.
“You’re getting better at knowing me.”
“I’ve had a few years.”
She stood and walked over to the coffee machine.
“It was easier when I was pregnant.”
Adrian looked at her.
“You hated being pregnant.”
“I hated many things about being pregnant.”
“Such as?”
She began counting on her fingers.
“Being heavy. Being tired. Having back pain. Having people constantly wanting to touch me.”
“You hated it.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound easier.”
She turned towards him.
“I said it was easier.”
Adrian fell silent.
She poured herself more coffee.
“I didn’t have to attend half the things I normally had to.”
“You were pregnant.”
“I was the Luna.”
“That wasn’t the same thing.”
“It was very much the same thing.”
She set down her cup.
“Everyone understood that I had more important things to take care of.”
Adrian couldn’t help looking at her.
“You were carrying a child.”
“I was carrying a Thorne.”
She said it with such certainty that he fell silent.
“And the entire pack knew it.”
She smiled faintly at the memory.
“Everyone wanted to know how I was doing. How the baby was doing. Whether I had felt it move.”
Adrian said nothing.
“There were articles.”
“Yes.”
“People guessed the sex.”
“Yes.”
“Everyone had an opinion about what the baby would become.”
She looked at him.
“And everyone treated me as though I had done something almost divine.”
Adrian couldn’t help smiling.
“You enjoyed it.”
“Of course I did.”
It was so honest that he laughed.
She sent him a look.
“I didn’t enjoy every part of it.”
“No.”
“But I enjoyed being important.”
Adrian said nothing.
She looked down into her coffee.
“I enjoyed the entire pack being excited.”
Then she looked at him.
“I enjoyed you being like that.”
Adrian fell silent.
He knew what she meant.
He had been everywhere around her.
Fetching things.
Buying things.
Getting up during the night.
Making sure she never lacked anything.
He had been proud of her.
And proud of what she carried.
He had been happy.
“You got up before I even asked you to,” she said.
“You were pregnant.”
“You fetched anything I pointed at.”
“You shouldn’t have to go without anything.”
“I didn’t.”
“That was the point.”
“You jumped and danced at every little command.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“I did not.”
She looked at him.
“Adrian.”
He considered it.
“Fine.”
“You did.”
“I was a very attentive husband.”
“You were absurdly doting.”
“That is not a word.”
“It is now.”
Adrian couldn’t help smiling.
She smiled too.
For a moment, there was something almost warm between them.
Then it disappeared again.
“And it wasn’t only you,” she said.
Adrian looked at her.
“The entire pack was obsessed.”
“Yes.”
“You loved it.”
“Yes.”
She set down her cup.
“I miss it.”
Adrian looked at her.
Not only him.
He understood that now.
She did not only miss being waited on by her husband.
She missed being the centre of everyone’s attention.
Being the woman carrying a new Thorne.
Being admired.
Being celebrated.
Being treated as something special.
And perhaps also getting a break from everything else she did not particularly want to do.
“So that’s why,” Adrian said.
She lifted her chin.
“It’s a good reason.”
“It’s a reason.”
“You can’t say it isn’t a good idea.”
Adrian thought about it.
“I can say it’s a very convenient idea.”
She smiled.
“That’s a good quality too.”
He shook his head.
“You want another child because you miss being treated like a queen.”
“I want another child because I want another child.”
“And because you miss being treated like a queen.”
“It can be both.”
Adrian could not argue with that.
It could.
She looked at him.
“And you would love it.”
Adrian fell silent.
Because he would.
He would love another child.
He would love another little hand in his.
Another child waking him in the morning.
Another voice in the kitchen.
Another bedtime story.
Another life he could protect.
And yes.
He would also love what it would mean for the family.
A new Thorne.
A new future.
He knew it.
She knew it.
“That’s not fair,” he said.
She smiled.
“No.”
Adrian looked at her.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Yes.”
It was almost the most honest thing she had said all morning.
He sighed.
“I’m still going to Blackwater.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still taking the children to the pup nursery.”
She sighed.
“Yes.”
“And you still have Pilates.”
“Yes.”
“So we’re back where we started.”
She thought about it.
“No.”
Adrian looked at her.
“No?”
“Now you have something to think about.”
He couldn’t help smiling.
“I already had that.”
“Not the same thing.”
No.
It wasn’t.
Adrian went upstairs to pack.
His bag was still where he had left it.
He began packing.
Shirts.
Trousers.
A jacket.
Documents.
His weapon.
He worked methodically.
It was easier than thinking.
Blackwater Pack lay to the west.
A journey of a few days.
He would meet with their Alpha.
Talk about the border.
Talk about security.
Talk about the expedition.
And afterwards, he would meet with the others who would be travelling with him.
He closed the bag.
Then stood still.
For a moment, he thought about the morning.
About the children.
About his wife.
About the third child she had placed between them like a card on the table.
He knew her well enough to know that she had not said it by accident.
And he knew himself well enough to know that she had hit something.
He wanted another child.
That was the dangerous part.
He set the bag down.
For a moment, he imagined what it would be like.
A small child in the house again.
Less sleep.
More chaos.
Another little Thorne.
He almost smiled at the thought.
Then the smile faded.
Because another thought followed.
Elena.
He did not know why she appeared in his mind now.
Perhaps because his wife had asked him what he truly wanted.
Perhaps because Elena was the first person in a very long time who had not asked anything of him.
Not for an alliance.
Not for an heir.
Not for a decision.
She had simply looked at him.
And for one brief moment, Adrian had not felt like an Alpha who was supposed to give someone something.
He had simply felt like himself.
Adrian shook his head.
It was a thought he did not have time for.
He had a journey ahead of him.
A territory to protect.
A border to negotiate.
A family waiting for him.
He picked up his bag.
And left.
- Writer
