I watch Claire sleep in my bed, her body curved against mine like she was designed to fit there.
Moonlight catches the curve of her shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, and something in my chest aches with a tenderness I spent forty-two years convincing myself I didn't need.
She looks peaceful—finally peaceful—after a day that nearly destroyed both of us. My fingers trace lazy patterns on her hip, memorizing the warmth of her skin, the soft sounds she makes when she dreams.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, shattering the quiet.
The screen glows with Richard's name, and I know immediately this isn't a conversation I can have with Claire beside me.
I slip out of bed carefully, pulling on sweatpants before padding to the living room. The penthouse is dark, the city lights casting long shadows across the floor, and I answer on the fourth ring.
"Hugh." Richard's voice is haggard, wrecked in a way I've never heard from him. "I got Theo's report. Tell me she's okay. Tell me my daughter is alive and safe and not lying in some morgue because I let her out of my sight."
"She's fine, Richard. Shaken, but unharmed. Theo handled the situation before they could take her."
I keep my voice low, measured, even though every word tastes like inadequacy.
"She's sleeping now. The safest place for her is here, with me. Until we identify the leak and neutralize the threat."
"I need to see her." His voice cracks, and the sound hits me harder than I expect. "I'm her father, Hugh. I need to look at her, hold her, know she's really okay. You can't keep her from me… Not now."
"I'm not keeping her from you. I'm keeping her alive."
The words come out sharper than intended, my wolf's protective instincts bleeding through.
"There's a mole feeding them information. Someone close, someone with access to schedules and movements. Until we know who, moving her is a risk I'm not willing to take."
"A risk you're not willing to take?" Richard laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Since when do you make decisions about my daughter without consulting me? You're overstepping, Hugh. She's my child, not yours to control."
"I'm trying to protect her in any possible way!"
My voice rises despite my best efforts, frustration and fear tangling together in my chest.
"Every time we think we've secured her, they find another way in. They're organized, well-funded, and they're not going to stop. I will not let them take her because we got sloppy."
"You don't understand. You don't know what it's like to watch your child in danger and feel completely helpless…”
Richard's voice drops, raw with emotion I've rarely heard from him.
“To know there's nothing you can do, no money you can throw at the problem, no connections you can leverage. She's all I have left, Hugh. After her mother, after everything… Claire is all I have."
Something snaps inside me. The careful control I've maintained for weeks, the distance I've tried to keep between my feelings and my actions—it shatters like glass.
"I know exactly how to protect my mate," I growl before I can stop myself, "and I don't need anyone telling me how to fucking do it!"
Silence. The word hangs in the air between us, impossible to take back.
Shit.
"What did you just say?" Richard's voice has gone cold, dangerously quiet. "Repeat that, Hugh. I want to make sure I heard you correctly."
I don't answer. Can't answer.
The silence stretches, damning in its weight, and I hear Richard's sharp intake of breath as the implication lands.
"Mate." He says the word like it burns. "You're telling me that my daughter, my nineteen-year-old daughter… is your mate? That this entire time, while I trusted you to protect her, while I believed you were acting as her guardian, you were—"
He stops, and when he speaks again, his voice is flat and controlled in a way that terrifies me more than anger would.
"Do you love her?"
I should deny it. Should give him some professional reassurance that my feelings haven't compromised my judgment. But the words won't come, and my silence says everything I can't bring myself to articulate.
Richard sighs, and the sound is ancient—exhausted and resigned and older than his years.
"God above help us all. I suppose I should have seen this coming. The way you looked at her, the way you agreed on being the one to protect her, even after putting up a little fight… A father should see these things, even when he doesn't want to acknowledge them."
"Richard, I never intended—"
"Save it." His voice is weary. "We'll discuss the intentions later. Right now, I need to see my daughter. I'll send you coordinates tomorrow—a secure location that only I know about. Bring her there. Let me look at her face and know she's really okay."
"I'll agree to that only if we're taking precautions."
My mind is already calculating routes, contingencies, backup plans.
"Complex route with multiple checkpoints and I drive a decoy vehicle. We vary the timing and don't communicate the final location until we're already moving. If there's a leak, we don't give them anything useful."
"Fine. Whatever you need."
Richard pauses, and when he speaks again, there's something almost like defeat in his voice.
"Just bring her to me safely, Hugh. Whatever else is happening between you two, whatever complications this creates… She's still my daughter. She's the only thing in this world I can't afford to lose."
"I understand."
And I do. More than he knows.
The call ends, and I stand in the dark living room for a long moment, processing.
Richard knows.
I should feel worried. Should be calculating the political fallout, the complications this creates for pack dynamics and business relationships. Instead, I just feel tired.
Tired of secrets, tired of hiding, tired of pretending the most important thing in my life is something shameful.
When I slip back into bed, Claire stirs against me, her body instinctively seeking warmth. Her eyes flutter open, still hazy with sleep.
"Who called?" she murmurs, voice rough. "Is everything okay? You were gone for a while, and I got cold without my personal furnace."
"Your father." I pull her close, tucking her head under my chin. "He wants to see you tomorrow. Make sure you're really alright after what happened. I told him we'd meet him at a secure location—somewhere safe where you two can talk."
“What else is there? I can feel it in your tone and somehow… feel it.”
She can actually feel it? My discomfort and worry? That’s… new. And something I totally overthink later.
Claire's quiet for a moment, her hand pressing against my chest, when understanding dawns on her.
"He knows. He knows about us, right? Is he angry? How did he find out—" I feel her spiral before she feels it herself.
"We'll figure it out in the morning." I press a kiss to her hair, breathing in her scent. "Right now, you need to sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day, and you've been through enough."
She doesn't argue, just burrows deeper into my arms with a soft sound of contentment. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and I'm left staring at the ceiling while she sleeps peacefully against me.
Tomorrow, I'll face Richard. Tomorrow, I'll navigate whatever fallout comes from the truth finally emerging. But tonight, she's here and safe and mine, and that's enough.
It has to be enough.