Chapter 96

Angus POV

The room smelt of whiskey and regret.

I sat slumped in my chair, an empty glass dangling between my fingers. The dim light from the desk lamp cast long shadows across the walls, but even in the darkness, I could see the damage I had done. Papers scattered across the mahogany desk. A half-empty bottle is sitting beside them. My reflection in the glass—haunted, broken.

I took another sip, the burn of alcohol doing nothing to numb the ache in my chest.

Lisa.

Her name alone felt like a wound that would never heal.

I had lost her.

Not because of fate, not because of Hunter, but because of my own damn foolishness.

A sharp knock on the door cut through the silence. I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. My mother never waited for permission when she was worried.

She stepped inside, her sharp gaze sweeping over the disaster I had made of myself.

"Oh, my goodness, son," she breathed, the disappointment in her voice cutting deeper than any blade. "What is going on here? You drinking like this will not change anything."

I dragged a hand through my dishevelled hair, exhaling heavily. "If I had listened to you, I wouldn’t be going through this."

She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing. "I noticed you went to her birthday party. Alpha Hunter hosted it, and he proposed to her that day. Is that why you want to drink yourself to death?"

The words hit like a slap.

I swallowed hard, my throat burning. "Mother, I was foolish. That’s why I lost her." My voice cracked, the weight of my own mistakes pressing down on me. "I was blinded by my friendship with Feeler, not knowing she would be my destruction."

My mother sighed and moved closer. The warmth of her presence was suffocating, a stark contrast to the cold void inside me.

"It’s all right, my son," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me.

That was it.

The dam broke.

I clutched onto her like a drowning man, my body shaking as sobs ripped through me. I wept—like a child, like a man who had lost everything.

Lost her.

I didn’t even hear the mind-link at first.

But then, Delta Slate’s voice cut through my mind like a dagger.

"Alpha, I just heard—Lisa’s dad is dead."

I froze.

The world tilted.

My heart lurched as if someone had driven a knife straight through it.

My mother pulled back, concern etched deep into her face. "What is it, son?"

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. "Mother… Lisa’s dad is dead."

She gasped, bringing a hand to her chest. "Oh my goodness!"

A heavy silence settled between us.

Then she placed her hands on my shoulders, her grip firm. "You have to trace her family now and console her, Angus. You have to make this right." Hopefully clarity will cut through the haze of regret.

I couldn’t change the past.

But maybe—just maybe—I could still make amends.

I shot up from my chair, wiped my face, and ran out the door.

Lisa POV

The night was dark when we arrived at Luke’s house, the quiet air heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. I had been numb for hours, but now, as I stepped out of the car, a small part of me yearned for the familiar feeling of my old life, the one I had been forced to leave behind when my father died.

Luke’s house was nestled in a quiet corner of the pack territory, surrounded by tall trees that seemed to shield it from the world. As we walked up the steps, Hunter by my side, I could already sense that this place was a refuge for those who needed it. A lady stood by the door. I'm guessing she is Luke’s mate; she was smiling gently at us, but there were no happy emotions to reciprocate it.

“Lisa, Alpha Hunter, welcome,” she said, bowing slightly. Her voice was warm yet measured, as if she knew exactly what we needed without needing to say a word.

"Lisa, meet Estela, my mate, and my kids, Hadam and Razia," Luke said, his deep voice filled with a rare tenderness as he gestured toward his family.

"Nice meeting you all," I muttered, my voice flat, while Hunter echoed the sentiment, though neither of us had any smile to offer.

Estela nodded sympathetically, her eyes soft with understanding. "Sorry for your loss, Lisa. Come this way." She gestured for us to follow, leading us inside.

I could feel the silence between me and Hunter growing, a strange barrier of tension that neither of us seemed willing to break.

We followed Estela down a narrow hallway, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. She guided us into a cosy room, smaller than I expected, but warm and inviting. The bed was neatly made, and the room smelt faintly of lavender.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said, her smile kind but distant. "If you want to eat, just let me know."

I nodded stiffly. "You don’t have to worry. I have no appetite."

“I don’t either,” Hunter added, his voice sounding even more distant than usual.

Estela gave us a sad smile before turning to leave. The door closed softly behind her, leaving me and Hunter in the quiet of the room.

I sank down on the edge of the bed, the weight of the day pressing down on me. My mind was still spinning, still processing everything I had learnt. My father was dead. He’d left behind a letter, an apology that felt too little, too late. I felt like I was drowning, and no matter how much I struggled, the water kept rising.

Hunter sat beside me, his broad frame hunched, his eyes staring at the floor. We didn’t speak for a long time. The silence felt suffocating, like we were both too afraid to let our thoughts spill out, afraid of what might happen if we did.

“What happens now?” I finally asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Hunter didn’t immediately respond. He shifted, his hand resting on his knee, his fingers tapping in rhythm with the thoughts in his head. Then, finally, he sighed.

"I don’t know, pumpkin."

That word. That simple word. My heart lurched at the sound of it, the nickname he’d used for me so many times. The one that had once made me feel loved, protected. Now, it only reminded me of everything that was lost.

A single tear slipped down my cheek, but I wiped it away quickly, not wanting Hunter to see it. I wasn’t ready to break down yet.

"But the first thing I’ll do is confront my parents about this." His voice was firm, a quiet resolve behind his words.

I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"My parents," Hunter repeated, his jaw tightening as he looked at me. "They should have told me about this long ago. But they didn’t say anything to me."

The anger in his voice was like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. I could see the pain in his eyes, and it made my chest tighten. I wanted to reach out to him to tell him that I understood, but there was still so much hurt between us, so much unspoken grief.

"They should’ve told me, Lisa. They should’ve warned me about what I was walking into," he continued, his voice growing more passionate with each word. "I walked into this blind, and now—now I’m stuck here. I’m stuck with the man who abandoned me, with the truth that I should’ve known years ago."

I didn’t know what to say to that. Hunter’s words hit me hard, but I couldn’t help but feel the same way about my own situation. My father had been absent for most of my life, but to find out that he had abandoned me before I was even born—that he had betrayed my mother so completely—was something I couldn’t process.

I could hear the frustration in Hunter’s voice and see the way his fists clenched in anger. The pain he was carrying was as raw and jagged as my own.

"Do you really think confronting them will make a difference?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

Hunter paused. His gaze softened for a moment, but the hardness returned almost immediately. "I don’t know. But I have to do something. I can’t just sit here and let this… let this go without doing something about it."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of everything we’d just discovered. I knew how he felt. It was the same feeling that had been gnawing at me all day—the need to make sense of something that didn’t make sense, to confront the people who had caused the pain, the people who had torn apart our families.

But even as I thought about it, I realised something else. Confronting my family, my mother—my father, even if he was gone—wouldn’t fix what had been broken. No amount of confrontation would change the past, no matter how much we tried.

It wasn’t just about confronting people. It was about handling the issue to avoid further problems. finding a way to heal, to let go of the anger that had built up over the years. It was about forgiveness, not just for them, but for ourselves.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with unshed tears. "What if… what if confronting them doesn’t fix anything? What if it just makes things worse?"

Hunter looked at me then, his eyes filled with understanding. He seemed to read the pain in my voice, the same fear that was haunting me.

"It might," he admitted quietly. "But I have to try. We both do. We can’t keep living like this, Lisa."

He was right. I knew he was. The anger and the grief, the resentment, if we didn’t face it, we’d be stuck in this place forever. But I wasn’t toward our families—it was poisoning us. If we didn’t confront, I was sure I was ready for what came after the confrontation. What came after the truth was laid bare.

"Maybe…" I hesitated, unsure how to voice the thought that had been floating in my mind. "Maybe we don’t have to fix everything right now. Maybe we just need to… breathe. Let things settle before we make any decisions."

Hunter stared at me, his expression softening. "You’re right. We’ve been through a lot today. We need time."

Time. It was something neither of us had felt like we had in a long time, and yet, in that moment, it felt like the only thing we truly needed.

We sat there in silence again, but this time, it was different. The weight of our grief, of our anger, was still there, but it was quieter now. As if, for the first time in hours, we were allowing ourselves to feel the full extent of everything that had happened. And in that silence, I realised something. No matter how lost I felt, how broken, I wasn’t alone. Hunter was right there beside me, carrying his own pain but still willing to fight for something better.

Maybe, just maybe, we could both heal. But it wouldn’t happen overnight