The moon had long passed its peak, and yet the night refused to end.
Dwyn was still unconscious.
No — not unconscious. Withdrawn.
Her body lay curled on the bed, trembling even beneath layers of blankets. Sweat clung to her brow. Her breath came in uneven waves, like each inhale was an effort. Her hands were clenched, her jaw locked. Pain held her like a cage.
And I could do nothing.
I sat at her bedside, shoulders heavy with the weight of failure — not as an Alpha, but as a father.
She had been strong. Always. She had trained harder than most warriors, sharper in instinct than even my Beta's son. She never asked for affection, rarely complained. She wore her legacy like armor.
But she was not made only of wolf.
No one knew. Not even her.
But I did.
Because I was the one who had watched her mother die.
Naia.
My first mate. My secret.
A siren who had washed ashore years ago, quiet and strange and impossibly beautiful. I was young, wild, and foolish to love her — to claim her — to hide her from my world. But I had.
And when Dwyn was born, the sea had taken Naia back.
Only I remained to carry the truth.
The world believed Dwyn was born of some nameless she-wolf — a mistake, a past I never spoke of. It was easier that way.
Safer.
For her.
But now...
Now her body was burning from the inside out. Not just because of the rejection — not just because Kael had shattered the mate bond and taken another — but because something old, something other, had been stirred awake inside her.
The siren magic.
I could feel it pulsing under her skin like a second heartbeat. Dormant her whole life, buried beneath her wolf. But rejection had torn the barriers open.
And she didn't even know what she was becoming.
She whimpered in her sleep, her hands twisting in the sheets. I reached for her, brushing a damp curl from her forehead.
"You were never meant to be this hurt," I whispered. "Not like this."
Her fingers flexed.
She was fighting even now. Of course she was.
I looked away, jaw tightening.
Kael had made his choice. A fool's choice. But I couldn't undo it. I couldn't take away what had been broken.
All I could do was protect what remained.
I stood, walked to the window. Outside, the pack was silent. Tense. Whispers had already begun to stir.
They had seen an Alpha's daughter fall to her knees in agony.
They had seen her mate reject her.
They had seen nothing of her magic. Yet.
And I intended to keep it that way — until she was ready.
Behind me, she stirred again. Her breath hitched. Her back arched ever so slightly, and then collapsed into stillness once more.
I returned to her side, sat beside her again, took her hand.
She didn't wake.
But I leaned close and whispered the promise only a father could make:
"They will not define you by this pain. You are mine. You are hers. You are more than wolf, more than mate."
I closed my eyes.
"And when you rise, Dwyn... they will all see what you truly are."