UNDER HIS RULE

CHAPTER TWO (Ivy's pov)

Grandma reached the door before I did. She always did — for a woman who baked more than she moved, she had a way of getting somewhere first when it mattered.

The door swung open, and then my father was there.

He hugged me so tightly, so *affectionately*, that for a second I forgot how to breathe. It had been years since he'd held me like that. Years since I'd let myself think about how much I missed the particular way he used to fold me into his arms like the rest of the world could wait outside the door.

When he finally pulled back, I studied him — really looked — and my chest tightened.

He'd changed. Not just older. *Smaller*, somehow, in a way that had nothing to do with height. His shoulders sat differently. His eyes had lost something I didn't have a name for yet.

I turned toward the sofa before I let myself dwell on it, and there was Cormac, lounging like he owned the room out of habit rather than truth.

He'd grown up. Really grown up — broader now, jaw sharper, the boyish softness I remembered replaced with something unmistakably *man*.

*He looks good,* Ash said, entirely too pleased with herself. *Our brother is all grown up.*

*Focus,* I told her, though I couldn't quite argue.

Grandma didn't linger for reunions. She dropped her handbag by the doorway without a second glance and was already halfway to the kitchen before I'd even fully stepped inside.

"Dad." My voice came out quieter than I meant it to. "What happened?"

Cormac winked at me, easy as ever, like winking could soften whatever was coming.

My father sniffed — an actual sniff, like he was holding something back — and that undid me more than anything else so far. I had never, not once in seventeen years, seen Alpha Gideon look weak. He wasn't built for weakness. He was steady hands and even tempers and the kind of calm that made an entire pack feel safe.

This wasn't that man. Not right now.

"Alright," Cormac cut in, sitting forward, sparing him from having to say it himself. "Dad only wanted to expand his territory. He tried to take advantage of a small pack — didn't know it was under Alpha Damien's protection. The most powerful alpha in the region." He said it plainly, like ripping off a bandage fast hurt less. "So he lost. And now here we are. Commoners."

The word landed heavier than I expected, even though I already knew it. Hearing it out loud, in my brother's voice, in my father's house, made it real in a way the drive over hadn't managed to.

"I pleaded that we stay within the territory," Cormac went on, quieter now. "He agreed. Dad wasn't exactly in his right frame of mind by then." He glanced at me sideways, that easy, sheepish grin creeping back despite everything. "Am cool right? For doing that?"

Dad rolled his eyes at him, but there was no real bite in it. Just tired affection.

"Ivy." My father's attention shifted back to me, and his voice was softer now, careful in a way I wasn't used to. "I'm glad you're back."

That was all he offered. He didn't explain further, didn't try to justify the decision that had cost him everything he'd spent a lifetime building. I didn't push.

*The loss really affected him,* Ash said within me, and there was none of her earlier teasing left in it.

*Yeah,* I thought back. *I noticed.*

Then, cutting through the heaviness like it had been summoned on purpose, the smell of Grandma's cookies rolled in from the kitchen — warm, buttery, achingly familiar. I inhaled without meaning to.

"Enough of the moody talk!" Grandma's voice rang out, sharp and cheerful. "Ivy, come join me."

I caught it immediately — the way my father's whole mood lifted at just the smell of them. He'd always loved his mother's cookies more than a grown alpha probably should admit to.

He followed me into the kitchen, helping Grandma pull down bowls and measuring cups like he hadn't just spent the last few minutes looking like a man carrying the weight of his own house on his shoulders. For a little while, it was almost normal. Flour on the counter, Grandma bossing him around like he was still a boy who tracked mud through her kitchen, the two of them bickering gently about whether the recipe called for one egg or two.

I left them to it and drifted back to the sitting room.

Cormac was still on the sofa, and the second I sat down across from him, I noticed the smirk. Slow. Deliberate. Entirely too pleased with itself for someone who'd just delivered news like that.

A very naughty older brother, I thought, rolling my eyes as I sank back into the cushions.

"What?" I asked.

His smirk only widened.