Chapter 2
1650 Words
POV: Dinah
The car climbs up the winding road, and every turn takes me further away from my safe little life and deeper into the territory of the Goldenclaw Pack.
I press my face against the cool glass of the window and I try to breathe, but the air outside is getting heavier with every mile. It feels different here.
We pass the iron gates and they are huge and black and topped with spikes that look like teeth. Two guards are standing there in their human forms but I can see the glow in their eyes as the car passes.
They bow their heads in submission to the Alpha but when they see me in the passenger seat their eyes narrow with suspicion.
The Goldenclaw packhouse sits at the top of the hill like a sleeping monster.
It isn’t just a house. It is a fortress that has stood here for a hundred years.
Cade stops the car and the gravel crunches under the tires.
"Get out," Cade says.
He doesn't look at me. I fumble with the handle but I manage to open the door and step out onto the driveway.
Cade is already walking toward the massive front doors and his strides are long and confident.
An old man is waiting for us at the entrance.
He is wearing a stiff black suit and his hair is white but his back is straight and his eyes are sharp. This is the Pack Steward.
He manages the house and he manages the secrets of the Goldenclaw family.
"Alpha," the steward says and he bows low. "Welcome home."
Cade nods but he doesn't stop moving. "How is he?"
The question hangs in the air and I know who he is talking about.
"The Young Alpha had a difficult afternoon," the steward says and his voice is low and grave.
"His temperature spiked again and he was in some pain. Miss Shaw came by an hour ago. She is with him now and he seems to be resting more peacefully."
The name hits me like a slap across the face.
I lower my head and stare at the floor because I don't want the steward to see the flash of anger in my eyes.
Mara Shaw. The daughter of the Beta. The perfect wolf with the perfect bloodline who everyone said was supposed to be the Luna.
She is playing mother to my child while I am treated like a ghost.
Cade makes a sound in his throat and keeps walking into the main hall.
I follow Cade toward the grand staircase but we don't go up immediately.
There is a small table set up at the bottom of the stairs with a silver bowl and a stack of white clothes. A young maid is standing there waiting.
When she sees Cade she rushes forward and dips a cloth into the bowl. The water smells strong and herbal like sage and rosemary and antiseptic.
She wipes Cade’s hands quickly and efficiently to clean the outside world off him before he goes upstairs to the sacred parts of the house.
Then she turns to me.
She pauses. Her eyes flicking over my old clothes and her nose wrinkles like she smells something bad.
"Her too," Cade says and his voice is flat.
The maid dips another cloth into the water and she doesn't wring it out properly so it’s dripping wet. She grabs my hands and her grip is rough and she wipes my skin hard.
The water stings my skin but I don't pull away. I am the dirty thing that needs to be sanitized before I can see the Alpha heir.
"Go," Cade commands.
We walk up the wide staircase with my footsteps silent but my heart pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it.
We reach the third floor and the hallway is long and quiet. The windows are covered with heavy velvet curtains to keep the light out and the air smells different up here.
We get closer to the door at the end of the hall and I can hear voices coming from inside.
"Does it still hurt here?" a woman asks. Her voice is soft and gentle.
"A little bit," a small voice answers.
The sound of that small voice stops me in my tracks.
I stop breathing. My hand goes to the wall to steady myself immediately.
That is my baby.
"It's okay," the woman says and she laughs softly. "I'll rub it for you again. Is that better?"
"Yes," the boy says. "Thank you."
My chest aches and I want to run into that room and scream, to tell her to get her hands off him. But I am frozen by guilt and fear.
Cade pushes the door open and says, "Leo."
I force my legs to move and I follow him into the room.
It is a beautiful room. It is painted in soft blues and creams with untouched toys on the shelves and a big window that looks out over the forest.
But all I see is the bed.
Leo is sitting up against a mountain of pillows.
He is so small. He looks smaller than a four-year-old should be. His skin is pale like paper and I can see the blue veins mapping out his temples and his wrists. His dark hair is messy and his eyes are big and shadowed.
He looks like Cade. But he has my chin. He has my mouth.
And sitting on the edge of the bed with her hand on his back is Mara.
She looks up when we walk in and she is flawless. Her hair is perfectly styled and her clothes are expensive silk.
"Daddy," Leo says and he reaches his arms out.
Cade walks over and sits on the other side of the bed. He picks the boy up and holds him against his chest and for a second I see a flicker of something human in Cade's face. He looks worried.
"Where does it hurt?" Cade asks.
Leo doesn't answer him, he’s looking at me.
His gray eyes are wide and curious and he is staring right at me standing awkwardly by the door in my cheap clothes with my red hands.
Mara follows his gaze and she stands up slowly. She moves like a queen, like she belongs here while I do not.
"You must be Miss Quinn," she says.
She walks over to me and her scent hits me. Roses and expensive perfume and underneath it the metallic tang of a high-ranking wolf.
She takes my hand with her soft palms. "Thank you for coming. We really appreciate you being willing to help."
She talks like she is the mother, like she is the one thanking me for helping her child.
I pull my hand away because I can't stand her touch. "I'm here for him," I say and my voice comes out rusty and weak.
I walk past her and approach the bed but my legs feel like lead. I am terrified. What if he cries? What if he smells the fear on me and hates me?
I stop a few feet away from the bed.
"Hi," I whisper, fighting back the tears tugging at my eyes.
Four years without seeing him and this is how we meet.
For four years, l've lost count of how many times I dreamed of him. Again and again, I traced his features in my sleep, telling myself that he must be living well here.
But when I finally saw my son-his eyes bright as stars, yet his body so thin, like a fragile flame trembling in the wind—l was overwhelmed with regret. How had I ever dared to leave him behind?
How had I even convinced myself not to try to bring him back?
How could I ever make up for all the time I had been absent from his life?
Leo blinks at me, looking confused.
"Do you still feel sick?" I ask and try to smile but my lips are trembling too much.
Leo tilts his head to the side just like his father does.
"Who are you?" he asks.
The question shatters me.
He doesn't know me. Of course he doesn't know me. Why would he? I am nobody. I am just a donor. I am just an incubator that they threw away when they were done with me.
I open my mouth to say something but no words come out. I don't know who I am anymore.
Mara steps in before I can answer. She puts a hand on Leo's shoulder and smiles down at him.
"This is Auntie Dinah," she says smoothly. "She is an old friend of Daddy's and Mommy's. She heard you were sick and she came to visit."
"Oh," he says, sounding disappointed. He turns back to Cade and buries his face in his father's shirt. "I'm sleepy."
Mara reaches out her arms. "Here, let me take him to the bathroom to wash up for bed. You two must have things to discuss."
Cade shakes his head. "It's fine. I've got him."
Then he pauses and looks at me. His eyes are cold gold coins, "Do you want to hold him?" he asks.
The room goes silent.
I stare at the little boy in his arms. My son. My flesh. I want to hold him more than I want to breathe.
But I look at his frail body, and I look at the way he is clinging to Cade and I look at Mara watching me with those sharp predatory eyes.
I hesitate, frozen like a statue while my heart screams yes yes yes but my body won't move. Will I even be able to hold him prop—
"Forget it," Cade’s cold voice cuts into my thoughts before I can form the words, “somethings never change.”
- Writer
