15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Bane

R ook leans casually against the edge of the desk, swirling his wine like he has all the time in the world. His relaxed demeanor grates on my nerves, especially now, with that damned note burning a hole in my pocket.

"You’re quiet," Rook observes, taking a slow sip. His green eyes flick to me, sharp and calculating. "That usually means someone’s about to regret existing."

"Not now, Rook," I mutter, my fingers tapping restlessly against the desk. The note Aria found earlier replays in my mind, the jagged handwriting and venomous words a constant itch at the back of my skull. Take your half-breed son and go before it’s too late.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at the door. My eyes dart up as it swings open, revealing one of the guards. He salutes sharply, his posture stiff as he delivers the message.

"Alpha," the guard begins, his voice steady. "Council Elder Nathaniel has arrived. He's waiting in the main hall."

Rook straightens immediately, setting his glass down with a sharp clink. His usual smirk disappears, replaced by a stony expression. I feel my own spine stiffen at the name.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. "Just what I needed—a lecture from the fossil brigade."

Rook stands, clearly intending to make a quiet exit. "I'll leave you to it."

"Sit your ass back down," I growl, pointing at the chair across from me.

He hesitates, his eyes narrowing slightly, but obeys, sinking into the chair.

"Nathaniel can deal with you being here," I say sharply. "You're my beta. You're not leaving me alone to deal with this old wolf."

The guard steps aside, and a moment later, Nathaniel enters the room.

The elder moves with a grace that belies his years, his silver hair slicked back, his eyes sharp and calculating as they sweep the room. He looks every bit the picture of a regal wolf, his traditional leather attire starkly contrasting with the modernity of my office.

"Bane," Nathaniel greets, his voice low and calm but carrying the weight of authority.

"Nathaniel," I reply evenly, standing to meet him halfway. I don't offer my hand. He doesn't expect it.

Nathaniel's eyes flick to Rook, who remains seated, then back to me. His thin lips press into a line, but he says nothing about it.

"I've been hearing… troubling things," Nathaniel begins, clasping his hands behind his back. "Whispers of unrest in the pack. Letters of concern. And at the heart of it all, a human mate."

I lean back against the desk, crossing my arms. "Ah, so you've come to give me your usual sermon on purity and tradition. How quaint."

Nathaniel's eyes darken slightly, but his tone remains steady. "This isn't about tradition, Bane. This is about stability. About the future of the pack. You've brought a human woman into our midst, along with her… half-breed child. Do you not see the risk you've invited into our territory?"

I let out a sharp laugh, the sound echoing in the room. "Risk? The only risk I see is from cowards too afraid of change to adapt. The world's moving forward, Nathaniel. Maybe it's time you tried keeping up."

Nathaniel's jaw tightens, but he doesn't rise to the bait. "This isn't about me. It's about the pack. Your decisions have consequences, Bane. Bringing Vittorio Sorrenti's daughter here—"

"She's not Vittorio," I snap, my voice cutting through his.

"She is his daughter," Nathaniel presses, his tone hardening. "Bloodlines matter, Bane. Allegiances matter. You've invited the enemy into your home."

I push off the desk, stepping closer to him. "And what would you have me do, Nathaniel? Kick out my mate? Abandon my son? Bow to a bunch of spineless wolves who don't have the guts to say this shit to my face?"

Nathaniel holds his ground, his steel-blue eyes boring into mine. "I would have you put the pack first, as any good alpha would. Your personal attachments should not come at the expense of our safety."

I laugh bitterly. "Safety? You think Vittorio's going to back off if I send Aria away? He'll see it as a weakness, a crack in our defenses. But you wouldn't understand that, would you? You're too busy clutching your pearls over bloodlines."

Nathaniel's lips press into a thin line. "Your insolence does you no favors, Bane."

"And your outdated bullshit does you no favors," I shoot back.

Rook clears his throat, drawing both our attention. "If I may," he begins cautiously, "perhaps we should focus on the real issue here. Vittorio. Whether or not Aria stays, he's going to make a move. We need to be ready."

Nathaniel regards Rook for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Your beta speaks sense, as always."

"Of course he does," I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "It's why I keep him around."

Nathaniel ignores the jab, his gaze returning to me. "I'll take my leave, Bane. But mark my words: your decisions will shape the future of this pack. Be certain they are the right ones."

As soon as the door clicks shut behind Nathaniel, I exhale loudly and drop into my chair like I've just run a marathon.

"Gods above," I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face. "I hate that old man."

Rook leans back in his chair, casually grabbing his wine glass again. "What's not to love? He's charming, full of wisdom, and definitely doesn't look at you like you're a rebellious teenager every time you open your mouth."

I glare at him. "Sarcasm noted, Rook. You could've backed me up a little more, you know."

"You handled it better than I expected," Rook says, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I shoot him a look. "Don't get used to it."

Rook chuckles, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Here's to surviving another round with the fossil brigade."

I shake my head, my thoughts already shifting back to Aria and Elias.

He shrugs, taking another sip. "You seemed to be having so much fun on your own. Didn't want to steal the spotlight."

I roll my eyes and stand, adjusting my shirt. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving? That's it? No brooding or ranting about Nathaniel's 'outdated bullshit'?" Rook smirks, leaning forward slightly.

"Not in the mood," I reply, heading for the door.

Rook's grin widens. "Where are you off to, then? Let me guess—checking on a certain human and her kid? Or are you finally going to admit she's got you wrapped around her little finger?"

I stop mid-step and shoot him a glare. "I don't have time for this, Rook."

"Of course you don't," he says, leaning back with a smug expression.

Before I can retort, the door opens again, and a guard steps in. Rook immediately wipes the grin off his face, sitting up straight and fixing the newcomer with a raised eyebrow.

"What now?" he asks, his tone clipped.

The guard salutes sharply. "Beta, Alpha. You're needed urgently by the east patrol unit. They've reported unusual movement near the perimeter."

Rook nods, setting his glass down. "On it." He stands and turns to me. "Looks like your moment of peace is over."

"Was it ever peaceful?" I shoot back dryly.

Rook smirks but doesn't reply as he follows the guard out.

I watch them go, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension from Nathaniel's visit. With one last glance at the stack of letters on my desk, I turn and head out, my mind already on the next thing demanding my attention.

As I step back into the pack house, the faint sound of laughter carries through the halls. I pause, cocking my head toward the noise, and feel an unfamiliar pull in my chest.

Following the sound, I find myself standing just outside the kitchen doorway. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of childish giggles and Aria's soft, melodic laughter.

Elias is perched on a stool at the counter, covered head to toe in flour and grinning like he's just conquered the world. Aria stands next to him, her hair slightly tousled and a streak of batter smeared across her cheek.

"Mom, it's supposed to go in the bowl!" Elias exclaims, his little hands waving dramatically.

Aria laughs, holding up her hands defensively. "Hey, I never claimed to be a master chef. Besides, you're the one who started throwing flour!"

"That was an accident!" Elias protests, though his mischievous grin says otherwise.

"Sure it was," Aria teases, scooping a fingerful of batter and flicking it at him.

Elias shrieks with laughter, dodging her attempt, and the sound is so carefree, so light, that I can't help but stop and watch.

They don't notice me standing there, and for once, I don't announce myself. I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, and just... observe.

Aria leans down to Elias, wiping a smudge of batter off his nose with her thumb. "Alright, master chef, what's next? Your dad's probably going to expect a masterpiece."

Elias's eyes light up, and he beams. "Dad's going to love this!"

Something warm spreads in my chest at the word "dad." It isn't just pride—it's something deeper, something I can't name but feels undeniably good.

I'm not used to this. The pack, the politics, the battles—those are my constants. But this? Watching my son laugh like he doesn't have a single care in the world and seeing Aria's face lit with genuine joy? It's new. And it's good.

I stay there for a while, unnoticed, content to be an outsider to this moment.

I stay silent a moment longer, until Aria finally notices me. Her smile falters, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as her expression cools. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see that you're both terrible at keeping the kitchen clean," I say with a smirk, pushing off the doorframe.

"Hey!" Elias protests, spinning to face me. "We're making something amazing!"

Aria arches an eyebrow. "Amazing is... generous. It's edible. Probably."

I chuckle, stepping closer. "Looks like you're having fun, at least."

"Yeah!" Elias says, running up to me, batter-covered hands outstretched. "Do you wanna help, Dad?"

I raise my hands defensively, taking a step back. "Oh no, you don't. I'm terrible at cooking."

Elias's brow furrows. "Really? But you're good at everything else."

"Not this," I admit with a grin. "Trust me, kid. If I help, whatever you're making won't be edible."

Aria snorts, clearly amused. "For once, I agree with him. Let's not risk it."

Elias laughs, shaking his head. "Okay, fine. But you're missing out!" He spins on his heel and darts back to Aria, who is already waiting with a fresh spoon of batter.

"I'm sure I am," I mutter, watching them dive back into their chaotic baking session.

My mind drifts to the crumpled note still sitting on Aria's drawer. “Leave. Take your half-breed son and go before it’s too late.” The words feel like a noose tightening around my throat.

Rook’s warning from earlier pounds in my skull. "They’re not bluffing this time, Bane. If you hesitate, they’ll make the first strike—and they’ll make it count."

I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I watch Aria smear flour on Elias’s nose, her laugh so carefree.

My hand grips the doorframe as I glance toward them.

If they’re coming for her—if they’re coming for Elias—then I’ll make damn sure they regret it.