Alarick's POV
The box on Lina's desk watched me like a second pair of eyes. I had not moved the box. I had not even touched it, though the proximity was tempting. It sat poised at the edge of her glass-topped work table, her belongings visible through the half-open lid, almost as if they were calling out for attention. I wondered if opening it would reveal anything useful; would the contents offer me a clearer glimpse of her, or perhaps hand me some secret that could help persuade her to stay by my side? The urge to reach out was real, but I hesitated, uncertain whether what lay inside would bring me closer to her or simply deepen the mystery that lingered between us.
I flexed my hand, tightening it until the knuckles whitened, then released and curled my fingers again. The suit jacket resisted every movement, the fabric pulling taut along my arm. Supposedly custom-fitted, but today it clung in all the wrong places, as though my body was expanding against it, restless and uncontained. An itch ran beneath the synthetic lining from shoulder to wrist, prickling with every breath. I felt it most when I was on edge: a strange heaviness, the sensation of something swelling just under my skin. That was my reality—a side effect, my personal curse. I yanked my tie loose. Instantly, cold air licked at my neck, sharp and startling in contrast.
I leaned forward and let my gaze drift over the room, seeking distraction in the things I could control: the order of the desk, the weight of the silver pen resting atop a closed planner, the angled efficiency of the chairs arranged for meetings I had not scheduled.
I was waiting for something. Not a call—those I ignored by reflex, except when the caller ID forced my hand. Not a visitor; I'd told Coco to hold all appointments for today. I was foolishly waiting for her response but i knew she needed more time. Maybe, in a day or a week, Lina would be standing in the doorway again, her hair still damp from rain, her mouth twisting in that reluctant smile that meant she'd give us a chance.
There were, of course, other possibilities. In some, she never returned. In some, the curse found a new permutation and I lost not only her, but everything the office and its panoramic view represented: my authority, my pack, the neat future I had been building since adolescence. My father's plan. My mother's hope.
I rotated the office chair to look at the stack of framed photographs behind me. The one on top—my family at my father's succession ceremony, my father and my grandfather both shared a striking resemblance,blance on the photo they both looked hopeful, my grandfathers hand resting too tightly on my fathers shoulder as his noe on mine. I considered throwing it out, but there was a fine line between progress and arrogance, and I was not ready to cross it yet.
I drummed my fingers on the mahogany, a habit that annoyed my father and, to my surprise, also myself. I forced my hand to stillness. I tried to focus on the facts.
Lina and I were bound in the old way a way lost to our pack hundreds of years ago. I knew it, had always known. She had not known until today, how could she as a human. Even now, I doubted she understood what it meant—what it would demand of her, what it would risk. Humans were poorly prepared for this kind of certainty. Even the wolves weren't familiar with the in-betweeners like me, with half shifter.
The so-called gift our pack received from the moon goddess had always been spoken of with reverence. Yet, in the harsh clarity of my vision, I recognized it for what it truly was: an ancient curse. Not a simple metaphor, not some cautionary tale passed down in hushed voices, but something old and real that had wrapped itself around our line. Oddly, I hadn't found it mentioned in any of the ancient texts,in all the years I had looked into them preparing for my succession. Which only made things more confusing: did my personal curse—the half-shifting, that strange in-between state only I seemed to suffer—also stem from the same dark gift? Or was it something else entirely, tangled up with the original curse, yet separate? The question gnawed at me, unanswered, as I tried to piece together the truth from fragments of vision and gaps in the written record.
If the curse lifted, there was a real risk: every connection ever forged in defiance of the old order would break apart, leaving everyone stranded and alone—or worse, stuck with the ones they were supposed to be with from the start, regardless of who they were with now, the marriages, the children. I hadn't told Lina that detail yet. Maybe I never would.
I let out a sigh, louder than I meant to, the sound echoing in my large office. Returning to the desk, I checked my phone. No messages. I opened my laptop, and the login screen pulsed an unfeeling blue, unwavering and cold. As soon as I signed in, a flood of unread notifications stacked up along the edge of the screen: project updates; budget escalations. Still nothing from Lina. I even checked the spam folder, just in case. Nothing there, either.
The door burst open, the sudden noise echoing through the room before I even had time to react. Leon pushed through as if personal boundaries were little more than a rumor he'd overheard but never fully appreciated. His abruptness was jarring—it clashed completely with the Leon I knew: always law-abiding, always respectful.
"You could have knocked," I said, the words escaping with a sharpness I hadn't meant to reveal. Frustration prickled beneath my skin, crawling up my arms, nails sharpening and canines threatening to emerge. I pressed my palms against the smooth surface of the desktop, knuckles straining white as I tried to steady myself and waited for the sensation to ebb away.
Leon raised both hands, palms outward in a gesture of mock surrender. "You summoned me, and I wasn't worried," he said, his tone light, easy. "I knew Lina had already left, so there was no chance of finding you in a compromising pose." Leon's attempt at humor floated in the space between us, meant to ease the tension that lingered in the air.
I grunted, forcing the wolf down. "You're lucky I wasn't."
Leon grinned, snagged the visitor's chair by its armrest, and spun it to face the desk. "Or what? You'd jump me as you did at the engagement party?" His gaze flicked to Lina's box, and for a second, the humor thinned. "You want to talk about it?"
"No," I said, because I didn't. "We have business."
He decided not to push it further, and the atmosphere shifted. His back straightened, feet set firm on the floor. It was as if he had swapped one persona for another in the space of two breaths: the casual, almost clownish demeanor replaced instantly by something managerial and alert. Meeting Melissa had done that to him. She kept revealing sides of him I hadn't known, even after all those years growing up together.
"How was your session with Niza?" he asked, his voice dropping lower than usual. "Coco told me you had a vision."
I hesitated, the memory of incense still clinging to the inside of my throat. Niza's gaze had never once wavered; even as my senses blurred, her eyes stayed locked on mine. "Truly enlightening."
He waited for me to go on.
"She did the full regression," I said. "Took me back further than anyone else ever has. I saw the origin of our gift."
Leon's eyebrows rose, just slightly. "The first wolf?"
"Not the first. The first to be cursed." I drummed a finger on the mahogany, then stopped, self-conscious. "He looked like me, but younger. Weaker. His mate was—" I hesitated, then powered through. "She looked like Lina. But it wasn't her. Not exactly. Different eyes, maybe."
Leon nodded. "Genetic echoes. That's how my sister puts it. So what did you see?"
"Blood. Betrayal. The words hung between us, prickling along my skin. For our mates, the curse had never been a punishment; instead, I saw it now for what it truly was—a defense mechanism, a last resort woven deep into our bones. I'd seen our family struggle, again and again, to resist the mate-bond, fighting with everything they had, but it never let go. Each time fate paired one with an unsuitable mate, the result was always the same: murder. The chosen mate was killed, every time, no matter how much they tried to break free. Until, finally, I stood my ground and denied my own mate."
Leon exhaled through his teeth. "That's not what the old books say."
I stared at him. "You believe the books?"
He shrugged, an offhand gesture. "I suppose whoever wrote those reports must have been scared out of their minds. That usually means something significant was going on."
He made a fair point. Fear was the only emotion my ancestors had passed down intact.
The rain had thickened outside, the city lights warping into gold and orange stripes across the glass. For a moment, I caught our reflections: two men, both in dark suits, one leaning forward as if about to pounce, the other shrinking into himself. I straightened, adjusted my cufflinks, then paced to the window. The suit still felt wrong, like borrowed skin.
Leon cleared his throat. "What about her? Are you going to tell her?"
"I don't know," I said. "I'm not sure what good it would do."
"She's part of it now," he said. "If anyone deserves the truth—"
I turned, and the look I gave him was enough to silence him on the spot. My words came out measured, clipped; "The truth is, I don't know what happens next. If I break the curse, the whole system collapses. Every pack, every bond—it all snaps back to the original matches." I let it hang there, the enormity of it. "Do you have any idea what that would do?"
He did. Of course he did. He'd only just gotten together with Melissa, and the idea of losing her already, after everything, flashed across his face before he could hide it.
"You're not the only one with skin in the game," Leon said, his voice quieter now, edged with something almost resigned.
The room seemed to hold its breath. The tension wasn't just between us; it lingered, heavy and unspoken, filling the spaces between words.
I nodded. "I know."
He waited, then: "What do you need me to do?"
"For now we'll just keep this quiet and gather information. If anyone finds out—especially the old guard—it's over."
Leon bristled at the implication, but held his tongue. "So we're waiting."
I said, "For now." My eyes drifted to the box. "You can check the logs in the family documents and the pack library. Maybe we can learn more if we know the story behind it."
Leon stood, stretched. "I'll have Coco double-check the library. See if there's anything in the old pack records you missed."
"She's already on it," I said. "Told her to start with the American entries, pre-Industrial Revolution."
He paused in the doorway. "You know, either way, whether this works or not, nobody's going to thank you."
"I know,It's my resposibility" I said.
He left, pulling the door gently behind him this time.
The office felt heavier, as if his presence had displaced all the oxygen and left only memory. I walked back to the desk, sat, and for the first time, let my hand rest on the box.
It was smaller than I expected. I thought about opening it, but decided to wait.
There would be time for that. There would be time for everything.