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Lucian
Dinner at Mara’s home had been… eventful.
Her father pushed every button I had at first, and if Mara hadn’t been pregnant, I might’ve sat there and let him vent. But the second I saw how much it was affecting her, I knew I had to shut it down. She didn’t need
stress–not now.
Still, I understood where her father was coming from. I had said horrible things to Mara that day on the porch, and knowing her parents had overheard them? That shame stung. Add that to the rumors about Tina, and I couldn’t really blame the man for thinking the worst. I’d earned some of that anger.
But by the end of the night, things had settled. Bridges hadn’t just been rebuilt–they’d been tested and held. When we returned home, Mara was exhausted. She got ready for bed while I turned off the lights and checked the doors. By the time I slipped into bed, she was already asleep.
She reached for me in her sleep, wrapping an arm around my chest like she always did, fingers curling into me like I was her anchor. I smiled into the darkness. She didn’t even know she did it anymore–it had become
second nature.
I gently ran my hand over her arm, her skin soft beneath my fingers, and let sleep take me.
We slept in the next morning, no alarms, no plans. Just quiet.
I decided we’d start the day slow, drawing her a bath with her favorite cinnamon–scented salts and bubbles. She said they reminded her of me.
She sat between my legs, head leaning back against my shoulder as we soaked. My arms circled her waist, holding her like she might float away.
“I still can’t believe we’re expecting,” she murmured, almost in a daze.
I kissed her shoulder, letting my lips linger on her skin. “Neither can I. I thought we’d be trying again next heat cycle. I didn’t know it had already happened… That the goddess had already answered us.”
She giggled softly, and I held her closer.
We spent a long time in the bath, just soaking, talking, existing.
Eventually, I suggested lunch. Rather than stay locked away all day, I took her out–to La Puerta del Sol. I knew it wasn’t the wisest choice. It was the same place Chase’s man had tried to kill us. But it was also the best
food in town.
When Mara realized where we were going, her body tensed.
“Hey,” I said gently, taking her hand across the car. “We’re safe. I promise. And I’ll never bring you anywhere I haven’t secured.”
She nodded slowly, trusting me like she always did. And she was right to. We ate in peace, watched closely by my men from a distance, just in case.
After lunch, we strolled through the park. People waved. A few even brought us flowers. The show of love
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from the pack was overwhelming.
The fight at Driftwake had changed things. The people looked at me differently now–with respect, yes, but also with belief. And Mara… Mara had earned their admiration. The curfew she imposed had saved lives. She had stepped into her role as Luna, and the pack felt it.
Later that afternoon, we returned home to prepare for dinner at the Nighthorn mansion.
When I told Mara, she grimaced. “Do we have to go?”
“We do,” I said. “At least for tonight.”
She wore something simple and elegant. No effort, and still stunning. We left around five. As expected, Austin was already outside, waiting for us. I’d instructed him earlier to prepare a fresh salad for Mara- something light before dinner began.
She needed the nutrients. And I wasn’t risking her skipping another meal.
There was a lot I intended to discuss with my father after dinner–specifically, what I learned from the prisoners. Given the weight of that conversation, I suspected we’d end up spending the night at the mansion.
But that could wait.
Tonight, I was arriving not as a son.
But as an Alpha.
And I had things that needed to be said.
The moment we entered the dining room, my father stood and pulled Mara into a long embrace. It wasn’t rushed. He held her like she was precious–like he’d finally understood her place in our legacy.
Then he turned to me and pulled me into a hug too. I could feel it–he was truly happy. For once, his pride wasn’t veiled in politics or pressure.
Tiffany and Darian entered next, arriving together. They stood closer than usual. There was a softness between them now–a quiet understanding I hadn’t seen before.
Tiffany had a small gift bag in hand. She walked up to Mara and offered it with a genuine smile.
“Congratulations, Luna Mara,” she said, voice soft.
The two women hugged, even kissed each other’s cheeks. That moment alone was something I never thought I’d witness.
Darian clapped my shoulder and shook my hand. “Congrats,” he said simply.
There was no envy in his tone. No shadow of bitterness. Just calm acceptance. I hadn’t expected that, but I was grateful for it.
Maybe this dinner wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d feared.
Martha spoke next. “Congratulations, you two.” Her tone was measured, polite.
I nodded, keeping it cordial.
Then Lacy chimed in. “Luna Mara, congratulations.”
I turned slightly toward her, hiding my surprise. Why was she here? I didn’t voice the question. The mood was
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peaceful, and I intended to keep it that way–for Mara’s sake.
We took our seats. The meal was warm, delicious, and–for once–without tension. Unlike at the Thornridge house, there were no snide remarks or buried jabs. Just laughter, soft conversation, and my father animatedly listing names and future aspirations for the “Little Nighthorn,” as he kept calling the baby.
Tiffany, I noticed, smiled along but her eyes dimmed slightly whenever the child was mentioned. She was holding something in, and I knew Darian could feel it too. But I didn’t press. That was his path to walk, not
mine.
After dinner, I turned to my father.
“I need to speak with you,” I said, quiet but firm. “Privately. In the office.”
He nodded immediately.
“Darian, I want you in this too,” I added.
As we stood to leave, Tiffany approached Mara. “Luna Mara, do you mind if I hang out with you while they have their meeting?”
She was sweet about it–too sweet, maybe–but her smile was genuine.
Mara looked at me, silently checking. I linked her: It’s okay. Just be careful.
She nodded, and Tiffany linked arms with her, leading her out.
I watched them go. It was strange. This unlikely friendship… Maybe real. Maybe not. But I didn’t trust anyone under this roof completely–not when old loyalties could shift on a whisper.
Once they were out of sight, my father, Darian, and I headed for the study.
As soon as we entered, my father turned to me, settling into his chair behind the desk.
“Now that she’s pregnant,” he said, “are you moving back in?”
There was no point pretending anymore–not with my Alpha mark now fully active.
I met his gaze and shook my
“No.”
head.
His expression flickered, and I could feel the old tension creeping in.
But I was done with performance.
We had bigger things to talk about.
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