The hours after my father's ultimatum passed in a fog.
I go through the motions of existing—standing beneath the shower's scalding spray until my skin turns pink, scrubbing at the scent of those unknown Alphas until my flesh feels raw.
A maid helps me dress in something clean and simple. Another brushes the tangles from my hair with gentle hands that don't ask questions.
I sit before my vanity mirror and watch a stranger stare back—green eyes hollow, face pale, expression emptied of everything except exhaustion.
My future has never belonged to me. I've known that since I was old enough to understand what being the Aldridge heir meant.
But there was always the illusion of choice, the comforting lie that someday I might carve out something of my own. That illusion has been stripped away now, torn from my grasp like a child's blanket.
A mating bond that will chain me to someone I don't know, don't love, might never love. All because my wolf never woke, and my father sees me as nothing more than a bargaining chip to secure his precious legacy.
The walls of my chambers press in too close.
The silk sheets on my bed remind me of last night—different sheets, different bed, different life.
I need air. I need space.
I need the one person who has never looked at me like I'm broken.
The east garden is quiet at this hour, the afternoon sun slanting golden through the old oaks that line the walking paths.
I follow the stone trail to the bench that overlooks the forest—the same forest where the pack runs on full moons, their howls echoing through the night while I watch from my window, always apart, always alone.
Dominic sits on the bench, forearms braced on his knees, head bowed. He's still wearing yesterday's clothes, wrinkled and tired-looking.
He hasn't slept either.
His body tenses when he hears my approach, the line of his shoulders going rigid, but he doesn't look up. The anger from this morning still lingers in his posture, a barrier I'm not sure I have the right to cross.
I stop a few feet away, uncertain of my welcome. "Nic."
He doesn't respond. Doesn't move.
"I'm sorry." The words tumble out, raw and genuine, desperate to bridge the distance between us. "For last night. For disappearing. For making you face my father alone."
My voice catches, and I force myself to continue.
"You've never been anything but loyal to me. You've protected me and covered for me and put yourself at risk for me more times than I can count. And I repaid that by…"
"By terrifying me."
He finally looks up, and the exhaustion in his dark eyes makes my chest ache. The amber of his wolf flickers beneath the brown, restless and worried.
"I thought something had happened to you, Eva. I thought I'd failed you. I thought…" He shakes his head, unable to finish.
"You didn't." I take a tentative step closer. "You never have. I'm the one who failed. I failed you."
Dominic holds my gaze for a long moment, something shifting behind his eyes. Then he sighs, and I watch the tension bleed from his frame like water draining from a basin.
His shoulders drop. His hands unclench.
"I can't stay angry with you, Eva." A ghost of a smile crosses his face, there and gone like a shadow. "I never could." The smile turns wry, self-deprecating. "Even when you make it exceptionally easy."
There's something beneath those words. A warmth, a weight, that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
I feel as though he's confessing something larger, something he's buried so deep even he might not recognize it anymore.
The way he says my name. The way his wolf always seems to calm when I'm near. The way he looks at me sometimes, when he thinks I'm not watching.
But I don't push. Some truths are too fragile for the harsh light of acknowledgment. Some things survive only in the shadows where they're planted.
I close the remaining distance and sit beside him on the bench, close enough that our shoulders almost touch. The warmth of him radiates through the thin fabric of my sleeve, steady and grounding.
For a moment, we simply exist together, watching the forest sway in the evening breeze. The trees whisper secrets to each other, their leaves catching the golden light like scattered coins.
"Four Alphas are arriving tomorrow. Princes from allied packs to mate me." My voice comes out smaller than I intended, barely louder than the rustling leaves. "He’s given me one month."
I swallow hard against the tightness in my throat.
"I have to choose one of them as my mate, or..." The words stick, jagged and painful. "Or I'm no longer his daughter. No longer part of this pack."
Beside me, Dominic's shoulders visibly tense.
His hands curl into fists against his thighs, knuckles going white, and I catch the flash of amber in his eyes before he wrestles his wolf back under control.
For a moment, I see the war playing out across his features—the things he wants to say, the lines he's not allowed to cross.
"He can't—" He stops himself, jaw tight, the words bitten off before they can fully form. When he speaks again, his voice is carefully measured. "That's not fair to you."
"Fair has never been part of the equation." I watch a bird take flight from a nearby branch, envying its freedom. "Not for me."
Silence stretches between us, heavy with everything unspoken. I can feel Dominic struggling beside me, his wolf pacing beneath his skin, wanting to offer more than silent support.
But he knows his place.
A low-ranking bodyguard doesn't get to challenge the Alpha King's decisions. He doesn't get to voice opinions about who the princess should marry. His role is to protect and serve, not to want or hope or dream.
Finally, he speaks, his voice careful as someone walking through a minefield.
"Maybe... maybe one of them will surprise you."
He glances at me, something soft and sad in his expression.
"Not all Alphas are like your father. Some of them might actually see you—the real you." His throat bobs as he swallows. "Anyone who takes the time to know you would be lucky."
It's a silver lining he doesn't believe, offered only because he can't bear to watch me drown.
I recognize the attempt for what it is—not agreement with my father's edict, but a desperate grasp at hope because the alternative is too painful for either of us to face.
"You don't believe that," I say quietly.
"I believe you deserve better than an ultimatum." His voice drops, rough with something unspoken, something that sounds almost like grief. "I believe you deserve to choose for yourself. I believe…"
He stops, shaking his head, and when he continues, his words are heavy with resignation.
"It doesn't matter what I believe. I'm in no position to change anything."
The confession hangs between us, weighted with everything he won't say. Can't say.
I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder.
He stiffens for a heartbeat, I feel the tension ripple through him, then relaxes, his body curving toward mine like it's the most natural thing in the world.
His wolf radiates warmth and safety, and for a moment, I can pretend that tomorrow isn't coming.
"Thank you," I whisper against the fabric of his shirt. "For always being here."
Dominic doesn't respond with words. He simply rests his cheek against the top of my head, and we watch the sun sink below the treeline together, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose.
Tomorrow, my life will no longer be my own.
But tonight, I have this. I have Nic.