Chapter 2

Chapter 2 CALLIE I didn't wait for him to change his mind. I turned and walked fast toward the east wing where our children room were, and I heard his footsteps behind me, slower, reluctant, like each step cost him something. We passed guards in the hallway who barely nodded at me, the same way they always did, their eyes flicking to my face and then away, like even looking at me too long might curse them. I was used to it by then. The whispers. The way mothers pulled their pups a little closer when I walked by, trying to make sure that I did not harm their pups. Zara's killer, they still called me in the quiet corners of the pack house, even after all these years of nothing being proven. Nothing could clean my reputation in their eyes. We reached the room and I pushed the door open. Mia was lying on the small bed near the window, wrapped in three blankets, her face was pale, her lips a little blue at the edges. She looked so much smaller than what a seven years old should look like. The healer, an older woman named Petra with kind eyes and gray streaked hair, stood up quickly when she saw Lucas walk in behind me. "Alpha," she said, surprised, bowing her head. She had not expected me to be successful, that was for sure. "Where is she," Lucas asked, and his voice had changed, gone flatter, more clipped, like he was walking into something he didn't want to face. And the sooner he can get to it, the sooner he can leave. "Here," I said, and gestured to the bed where she laid. He walked over slowly, like he was not ready, for this. I watched his face as he looked down at his daughter properly, maybe for the first time in months. Something crossed his features, something I hadn't seen from him in a long time. Shock, maybe. Or guilt of abandoning her, or not being a good father to her. "I was told it was a mild fever," he said, more to Petra than to me. Petra's mouth pressed into a thin line, as she suppressed what she actually wanted to say. It was not a new thing for the pack members or messengers to lie to their alphas about anything concerning me or the twins. They always downplayed the symptoms, so ALpha Lucas was not in the loop of what was happening unless he saw it for himself. "It was reported as such, Alpha. But it isn't mild neither is it something that can be easily fixed with mere herbs. The Luna princess is weak in ways medicine alone can't fix. She needs contact from her father. Alpha strength, passed through touch. Without it, her body won't hold on to what little warmth it makes." Lucas didn't say anything. He just stared down at Mia, and Mia, sensing him there, blinked her tired eyes open and looked up at her father like she wasn't sure if she was dreaming. "Papa," she whispered, so soft I almost didn't hear it. That seemed to break something loose in him. He reached down and lifted her carefully, blankets and all, cradling her against his chest the way I hadn't seen him do since she was a baby and they had handed her over to him after hours of gruesome labor. I watched her small hand curl into his shirt, watched her face press into his neck, and for a moment, just a moment, I let myself hope. Because I saw it happen. I saw the tension leave her tiny shoulders. I saw the blue fade a little from her lips, returning back to normal. Her breathing, which had been shallow and quick, slowed down, evened out, like her lungs were clearing and breathing no longer hurt for her. Lucas's eyes widened as he felt it too, felt whatever passed between an Alpha and his pup when the bond finally, finally got used the way it was supposed to. "She's..." he started, his voice rough with emotion, I was not able to name. "I didn't know it was this bad." "I told you," I said, quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment by making it into an argument. "I've been telling you." He looked at me then, really looked, for the first time in longer than I could remember. There was something there, something almost like the man I married before all the blame and silence built a wall between us. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, maybe an apology, maybe just her name again. Then the door burst open. A guard stood there, breathless, his face tight with urgency. "Alpha. Forgive the interruption. There's trouble at the northern border, the tracks we found, they've moved closer, past the second marker. Command needs you now." Lucas's whole body went rigid. I watched the warmth drain right back out of his face, watched him become Alpha again instead of father, instead of husband, nothing like the softness that I had seen before, already faded away, melting into that hardened demeanour of an Alpha KIng first. He looked down at Mia, who was still curled against him, her color better than it had been in weeks, and for a second I thought he might refuse, might tell the guard to handle it without him. "I have to go," he said instead. "Lucas." My voice cracked on his name. "Just a little longer. Please. You saw what it did for her. She is getting better, you can't abandon her like this now. She needs you." "Callie, this is my job. This is what keeps this pack alive." He was already moving, already shifting her weight to hand her back to me, handing her over gently despite the urgency in his tone. I took her, felt how much lighter she was now that she wasn't shivering the same way, but it wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough, five minutes stolen between border reports and duty, Mia needed more than what he could afford to give in between his duties. "When will you have time for her again," I asked, and I wasn't sure if I meant it as a real question or as an accusation. He paused at the door, his back to me. "Soon," he said. "I promise." Then he was gone, his footsteps fading fast down the hallway, as he made his way back towards whatever mattered more than the daughter he left behind. I held Mia close, felt her small heartbeat against my chest, steadier now but still too faint and still too fragile. "Papa..." she called out, her hands outstretched towards the door. "Soon," I whispered to her, more to convince myself than her. "He said soon." But standing there, in the middle of the cold room, some part of me already knew soon wasn't a promise Lucas kept. It was just a word he used to say because he felt he could keep it.