“Fathe—Alpha, do you really plan to fight the traditional way?” Flora had asked, her voice shaking slightly as she stood in the dimly lit tent. Daemon sealed the letter he intended to send to the Silverwoods, his fingers brushing against the parchment, feeling the weight of destiny pressing down on him.
“You're underestimating their strength,” she added, her eyes wide with concern.
“Do I look like I'm doing that?!” His voice boomed in response, echoing against the tent walls, causing Flora to tremble in fear. She had always quaked under his presence, a relic of their strained relationship. It was a fear rooted in the past—his refusal to embrace a family, to acknowledge her existence beyond the realm of duty. He even named his own child Flora, so that his fated pair who had died would for
