[Hugh’s POV]
The knock comes while Claire's in the shower, which means I have approximately eight minutes before rational thought becomes impossible.
I open the door to find Theo wearing his "someone's about to ruin your day" expression. "We need to talk. Now. Without her."
I close the door harder than necessary. Very mature. Very Alpha. "What happened?"
"Got updates on the leak investigation."
He's pacing, which means it's actually bad.
"We've narrowed it down. Financial analysis shows three people with unexplained deposits in the last six months—all within forty-eight hours of scheduled movements that got compromised."
Finally, something concrete. "Names."
"Connor Webb from your security team. Sarah Holland from Richard's household staff. And David Reese—your driver rotation supervisor."
Perfect position to ensure the regular driver got conveniently incapacitated. "Amounts?"
"Webb got fifty thousand. Holland got thirty. Reese got a hundred and twenty, plus what looks like a quarterly retainer starting eight months ago." Theo's jaw tightens. "Someone's been building an intelligence network around her."
Eight months ago. Before her nineteenth birthday.
Before I'd even fully acknowledged the mate bond beyond increasingly unhinged internal monologues about her scent.
They'd been watching her, buying access, while I'd been busy convincing myself I could resist destiny through stubborn idiocy and excessive self-denial.
"Lock them down. Quietly. Surveillance, communications monitoring, everything. Don't move on them yet—I want to know who they're reporting to."
The words come cold and controlled while I catalog forty-seven ways to make them regret existing.
"Triple-check everyone else. If they bought three, they might have bought more."
"Already on it. But Alpha, there's more." He stops pacing, which is worse. "The organization… Intel suggests they're coordinating with factions across five states, maybe more. This is bigger than we thought."
They don't want ransom. They want to make an example.
Want to finish what they started. "How long before they move?"
"Days, maybe weeks. But it's coordinated." Theo's expression softens, delivering the blow he knows I don't want. "She needs to know the truth, Alpha… All of it. Before they come again."
He's right, which is deeply inconvenient because I'd prefer him to be wrong so I could continue my strategy of aggressive avoidance and strategic lying-through-omission.
Because it’s easier to wrestle with than with fear I'll lose her because I chose control over honesty. Again. Like I always do.
"I'll tell her. Soon."
"The timing's never going to feel right for—" Theo cuts off, his gaze snapping to something behind my back.
I look over my shoulder to find Claire emerging from the hallway wearing one of my shirts, damp hair leaving water spots on the shoulders. She looks thoroughly claimed, and my wolf preens with satisfaction.
She crosses to me with casual intimacy and clearly oblivious to Theo’s presence, hidden behind the frame of my body, before I could mention him and pressing a kiss to my lips.
Natural. Easy. Like she's done it a thousand times.
Then she freezes, finally noticing my Gamma. Panic flashes across her face—we were supposed to keep this hidden, from everyone. From her father, from other people and especially from werewolves.
I see the questions in her stunning hazel eyes immediately.
What if he thinks our relationship is an abomination too? Are we in trouble? Is he gonna hate me now? Hate us?
She’s pretty easy to read, but she has a point.
Would he? Would Theo understand? Would he judge us?
Can I trust him fully when it’s about her? About us?
I have known Theo his whole life, trained him since he was a kid, gave him deserved high-rank in our pack. But there was never a moment when we talked about the topic of connections between two of our kinds beyond simple friendship or cooperation.
I don’t know what he really might think about all of this.
The discomfort of my mate bleeding through our bond makes my wolf bare its teeth in a defensive way inside me, and I tense. Ready to intervene, ready to defend her from whatever judgment or disgust is about to occur… But Theo grins.
And it’s not a polite smile or a professional acknowledgement.
A full, genuine grin that suggests he's delighted by this development and plans to make it everyone's problem. I let out a breath of relief at the same time with Claire.
"Relax, princess." He waves a hand dismissively. "I don't have any problems with it. You two look like true mates anyway. The whole possessive-Alpha-guarding-his-mate thing is pretty obvious when you know what to look for."
Claire visibly deflates with relief, then laughs—nervous, flustered, the sound higher-pitched than usual.
"Well, that's good because… we are. Mates, I mean. Actual fated mates, can you believe it? I’m still not sure if I fully understand how it works, but Hugh said so himself. So it's like… official or whatever."
The words hang in the air like a bomb mid-detonation.
The temperature plummets and every muscle in my body locks down as Theo's expression shifts from teasing to serious in the space of a heartbeat.
His eyes meet mine, and I see the understanding dawn—the realization of what she just revealed, what that means. The implications for pack politics and security and a dozen other complications I haven't figured out how to navigate yet.
His Alpha mated to a human.
He knows exactly how complicated it is. How even more complicated it can become.
I see the quiet comfort in his eyes he’s trying to offer me and which I’m not fully ready to receive at the time.
"Theo." My voice comes out flat, cold, the Alpha command threading through it whether I intend it or not. "You're dismissed. We'll continue this discussion later."
He nods slowly, the easy humor completely gone from his face replaced by silent sympathy.
"Yeah. Sure thing, Alpha." He glances at Claire, something weighted in his expression—not judgment, but concern. "See you later, princess."
Then he's gone, the door closing with a soft click that somehow sounds like a period at the end of a sentence I wasn't ready to finish.
Claire's relief curdles into horror. "Did I… Was I not supposed to say that? I thought since Theo's your Gamma, he'd be one of the first to know. That it’d be okay with you for him to know."
I can't look at her—the irritation that I don’t want her to notice, the fear of complication seizing me in place—the weakness I want to hide from her. "No one was supposed to know yet. Not until I figured out how to handle the pack politics."
"But you trust Theo, don’t you?" She moves closer, confusion clear in her voice. "He's your confidant. If we can't tell him, who can we tell?"
"It's not about trust." The words come out clipped. "It's about timing. Strategy. The moment even one person knows, word spreads. Pack dynamics shift, questions get asked about my judgment, my leadership. Whether I'm compromised."
"We already knew this would be complicated." Her voice sharpens. "You already told me both sides would see us as an abomination, that we'd have to hide. So what's different about Theo knowing now versus later?"
"Because I wasn't ready." The admission comes out rougher than I intended. "I haven't figured out how to protect you from the fallout yet. Haven't mapped out every threat, every political complication. And now Theo knows before I've secured everything."
She's quiet, studying me with those too-perceptive eyes. "You're keeping something else from me. Something bigger than just the pack politics and timing, isn’t it?"
She's right.
Devastatingly, impossibly right, and I have no idea how to tell her I've known about the danger she's been in since before we met.
"Soon," I manage. "I'll tell you everything soon. But right now, I need you to trust that I'm doing everything to keep you safe."
"Even if I don't want to be protected?" Her hand presses flat over my racing heart. "Even if I'd rather know the truth and face it with you than be kept safe and ignorant?"
The question hangs unanswered because I don't have a response that won't damn me.
I pull her against my chest instead, arms wrapping around her, breathing in her scent while my wolf howls with the need to mark her, claim her, make certain everyone knows she's mine to protect.
But claiming her publicly means exposing her to the threats I'm trying to prevent.
I'm not ready to decide between her safety and her agency, protection and partnership.
So I hold her and say nothing, knowing silence is its own kind of lie, and that eventually the weight of everything I'm not saying will crush whatever fragile thing we're building.
The truth is coming. I can feel it bearing down like a freight train, inevitable and devastating.
I just hope we both survive the impact.