Chapter 35 T & Cs
That night, I dream of Wei.
He's standing in a burning building, a child in his arms, flames all around. But he's not afraid. He's calm. Certain.
"Love is worth dying for," he says. "But it's also worth living for. Choose life, Sage. For yourself and your daughter. Choose life."
I wake with tears on my face and Rory standing beside my bed.
"You were crying in your sleep," she says softly.
"Just a dream, baby."
"About my father?"
"No. About a man named Wei who loved so deeply he gave up everything for it."
Rory climbs into bed beside me. "Would you give up everything for me?"
"I already have."
"And would you give up everything for my father? If he asked? If he proved he was worthy?"
I pull her close, breathing in her scent—pine trees and wolf and something uniquely Rory.
"I don't know, baby. I honestly don't know."
"That's okay." She yawns, already drifting back to sleep. "You don't have to know yet. You just have to be ready to decide when the time comes."
The next morning dawns bright and cold.
Elena finds me in the dining hall at breakfast. "Sage, we have a situation."
My heart sinks. "What now?"
"Mason Black arrived at the front gate an hour ago. He's requesting permission to enter. To see you and Rory."
The eggs on my plate suddenly look unappetizing. "He's here already?"
"Yes. And he's not alone. He brought his Beta—Damon, I believe—and an elderly woman he says is a pack elder witness."
"A witness for what?"
"He didn't say. Just that he needs to speak with you. Formally. Under pack law."
Pack law. Which means this isn't just a personal visit.
This is official pack business.
I look across the dining hall to where Rory is eating breakfast with her new friends, laughing at something one of them said.
She has no idea her whole world is about to change.
"Tell him I'll meet with him," I say finally. "But not here. Somewhere neutral. And Rory stays away until I've heard what he has to say."
"The meditation grove might work. It's private, peaceful, neutral territory within the sanctuary grounds."
"Fine. Tell him one hour. And Elena? If this goes wrong, if he threatens me or tries to take Rory—"
"We'll intervene immediately. You're under sanctuary protection now. No one touches you or your daughter without permission."
The next hour passes in a blur.
I shower, change into clean clothes, practice breathing exercises that do nothing to calm my racing heart.
Mark stops by the cabin. "You don't have to do this alone. I can be there as your advocate."
"No. This is between me and Mason. It has to be."
"At least let me brief you on your rights under sanctuary law. He can't—"
"I know what he can't do. I know my rights." I meet his eyes. "But I also need to hear what he has to say. Need to know if he's changed. If he's capable of being the father Rory deserves."
"And if he's not?"
"Then I'll reject him formally. Break the mate bond permanently. And move on with our lives."
Mark nods slowly. "For what it's worth, I think you're the bravest person I've ever met."
"Or the stupidest."
"Sometimes those are the same thing."
At exactly ten AM, I walk to the meditation grove.
It's beautiful here. A small clearing surrounded by old-growth cedars, with a natural spring feeding a shallow pool in the center.
Peaceful. Serene.
The worst possible place for the confrontation I'm about to have.
Mason is already there.
I see him before he sees me, and for a moment, I can only stare.
He looks terrible.
Not just thin—gaunt. His face is hollow, eyes sunken, skin pale. He's aged a decade in three years.
The mate bond rejection is killing him. Visibly, obviously killing him.
Part of me—the part that loved him once—wants to run to him. Hold him. Tell him everything will be okay.
The other part—the part that remembers the rejection, the pain, the terror of those months alone—wants to turn around and walk away.
I do neither.
Instead, I step into the clearing and say, "Hello, Mason."
He turns, and the look on his face when he sees me—
It's devastation. Relief. Love. Regret. Everything I've felt for three years, reflected back at me.
"Sage." My name comes out broken. "You're alive. You're really alive."
"Did you think I'd die in the woods?"
"I didn't know what to think. You disappeared. Vanished. No trace, no word, nothing." He takes a step toward me, then stops as if remembering he has no right. "I've been searching for you for three years."
"Really? Because it seemed like you were pretty happy with Stella."
"I was never happy with her. Never wanted her. The whole thing was—" He runs a hand through his hair. "It was politics. Pack pressure. Her manipulation. But none of that matters now because—"
"Because she lost the baby and you realized you made a mistake?"
"Because I realized I made the biggest mistake of my life the moment I rejected you." His voice breaks. "Because I've been dying without you. Because I saw that video yesterday and realized I have a daughter—a child I didn't even know existed—and—"
"Her name is Rory." I cross my arms. "She's three years old, reads at a seventh\-grade level, and shifts better than wolves twice her age. She's brilliant, powerful, and perfect. And she's been asking questions about you."
Mason sinks onto one of the meditation benches like his legs won't hold him anymore. "I have a daughter."
"You have a daughter you rejected before she was even born."
"I didn't know—"
"You didn't care." The words come out harsh. "You chose pack politics over your own child. Over your mate. You don't get to claim ignorance now."
"You're right." He looks up at me with those amber eyes that once made my heart race. "You're absolutely right. I failed you. Failed our child. Failed everything that mattered. And I've spent three years paying for that mistake."
"Good."
He flinches like I've hit him.
Behind him, Damon and an elderly woman I don't recognize stand at the edge of the clearing, silent witnesses to this conversation.
"Why are you here, Mason?" I ask. "Really here. Not for me. Not for Rory. What do you want?"
He stands, moving closer. "I want to reject Stella formally. Publicly. Permanently. I want to sever all ties to her and the politics that made me choose her in the first place."
"You already rejected her."
"No. I ended the engagement. I stopped sleeping with her. But I never formally rejected her as potential mate. Never made it official under pack law." He pulls a document from his jacket. "This is a formal rejection declaration. Witnessed by Elder Sarah. Notarized by a supernatural legal authority. It severs any and all romantic or political bonds between me and Stella permanently."
I take the document, scanning it. It's legitimate. Detailed. Binding.
"And this helps me how?"
"It clears the way for me to formally petition for reconciliation with my true mate. With you." He swallows hard. "I know I don't deserve it. I know I hurt you in ways that can't be forgiven. But Sage—I'm begging you. Give me a chance to know our daughter. To be part of her life. I'll do anything. Accept any conditions. Follow any rules you set. Just please—"
"Don't."
The word stops him cold.
"Don't beg. Don't plead. Don't make promises you might not keep." I step closer, looking him directly in the eye. "If you want to be part of Rory's life, you need to prove you're worthy of it. Not with words or documents or grand gestures. With consistent, dedicated action over time."
"I'll do it. Whatever it takes."
"It won't be easy. She's not like other children. Her development is accelerated. Her power is extraordinary. She needs specialized training, guidance, protection from people who would use her for her abilities."
"I can provide all of that."
"Can you? Because last time you couldn't even provide protection from your own pack. From Stella's manipulation. From the politics that made you reject your pregnant mate." I cross my arms. "What's changed, Mason? What's different now?"
"I am." He says it with absolute certainty. "I spent three years as a shell of who I was. Watching my pack fall apart because I was too weak to lead properly. Losing wolves because I couldn't maintain pack bonds. Failing at everything that mattered because I rejected the one person who made me whole." He takes a shaky breath. "I learned the hard way that pack politics mean nothing without love. That power means nothing without purpose. That being Alpha means nothing if you can't protect what's precious."
"Pretty words."
"I know. But I'll prove them with actions. However long it takes."
"You might not have long." I gesture to his gaunt frame. "The mate bond rejection is killing you. Everyone can see it."
"I know. The pack healers give me weeks, maybe a month. Unless..." He looks at me with desperate hope. "Unless the bond is renewed. Unless you accept me back as mate."
"I'm not going to save your life just because you're dying."
"I know. I'm not asking you to. I'm asking for a chance to save yours." He moves closer, close enough that I can smell his scent—pine and wolf and something achingly familiar. "Because that bond is hurting you too, Sage. I can see it. The way you hold yourself. The shadows under your eyes. The loneliness that radiates from you despite being surrounded by people."
He's right. Of course he's right.
The bond has been like a wound that won't heal. An ache I can't escape.
"If I agree to this," I say slowly, "to letting you into Rory's life—there are conditions."
"Name them."
"First: You don't get to be Dad immediately. You have to earn that title. For now, you're Mason. A person Rory is getting to know."
"Understood."
"Second: Rory's safety comes first. Always. If I even suspect you're putting pack politics above her wellbeing, you're out."
"Agreed."
"Third: You prove yourself here at the sanctuary first. Spend time with us in neutral territory before we consider anything involving your pack."
"How long?"
"As long as it takes. Could be weeks. Could be months. You don't get to set the timeline."
He nods, accepting this.
"And fourth..." I take a deep breath. "You tell me the truth. All of it. About Stella, about the pregnancy, about why you really rejected me. No more lies. No more pack politics. Just raw, honest truth."
"Now?"
"Now."
Mason sinks back onto the bench, and for a long moment, he just sits there, gathering himself.
When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"Stella told me she'd been pregnant before. Years ago. That she'd lost that baby due to pack violence during a territorial dispute." He looks up at me. "She said if I rejected you—if I chose her—she'd finally feel safe enough to carry a child to term. That the pack needed stability, needed an heir from approved bloodlines, needed everything that you weren't."
"And you believed her?"
"The pack elders believed her. My Beta believed her. Everyone believed her because she'd been telling that story for years. Building sympathy. Establishing herself as a tragic figure who deserved her happy ending." His hands clench into fists. "I didn't want to believe her. Every instinct I had screamed that rejecting you was wrong. But the pack pressure, the constant meetings, the threats of challenges to my leadership if I chose an omega over a suitable Luna—"
"So you chose politics over love."
"I chose what I thought would save the pack. And it destroyed everything instead." He meets my eyes. "A month after you disappeared, Stella admitted she'd lied. About the previous pregnancy, about her intentions, about everything. She'd orchestrated the whole thing to become Luna. To secure her position as my mate."
Rage burns through me. "And what did you do?"
"I rejected her. Publicly. In front of the entire pack. Stripped her of her Luna title and gave her the choice: accept rogue status or remain as a regular pack member with no special privileges."
"She stayed?"
"For a while. But after she lost her pregnancy—our son—she became obsessed with finding you. Convinced herself that you'd somehow cursed her. That your rejection energy had transferred to her child and killed him." Mason's voice breaks. "She went insane with grief and rage. Started gathering wolves who believed her conspiracy theories. Eventually, I had to exile her for everyone's safety."
"When?"
"Six months ago. I exiled her with twelve followers who chose to go with her."
Twelve wolves. Stella has twelve loyal followers searching for me.
The thought sends ice through my veins.
"Does she know about Rory?"
"She does now. After that video went viral." Mason stands. "Sage, that's why I came so quickly. Why I brought Elder Sarah and Damon as witnesses. Because Stella is dangerous. Unhinged. And she knows you have a daughter who's everything her son should have been."
"You think she'll come after Rory."
"I know she will. It's only a matter of time."
As if summoned by his words, Marcus appears at the edge of the clearing, his expression grim.
"Sage, we have a problem."
My heart sinks. "What now?"
"Stella and her followers were spotted an hour north of here. They're heading this way."
Mason swears viciously. "How many?"
"Fifteen wolves total. More than she had when you exiled her."
"She's been recruiting." Mason turns to me. "Sage, you need to let me help. Let me protect you and Rory. I know I don't deserve—"
"Save it." I move toward the clearing exit. "Right now, we focus on keeping Rory safe. Everything else can wait."
We run back to the main compound.
I find Rory in the library, reading to a group of younger children who hang on her every word.
She looks up as I enter, and her eyes—those brilliant amber eyes—widen. "Mama? What's wrong?"
"We need to go somewhere safe, baby. Right now."
"Is it the bad people? The ones you've been hiding from?"
"Yes."
She stands, closing the book carefully, and addresses the other children. "Sorry, everyone. We have to finish the story later."
The younger children protest, but Rory silences them with a look—pure Alpha authority radiating from a three-year-old child.
It should be impossible. But nothing about Rory has ever been possible.
"Come with me," Marcus says, leading us toward a building at the far edge of the compound. "We have a secure bunker for emergencies. It's warded against supernatural tracking, reinforced against attack—"
"No."
Everyone turns to stare at Rory.
"No bunker," she says firmly. "If bad people are coming, I want to help stop them. Not hide."
"Rory, you're three years old—"
"And I'm stronger than most adult wolves." She crosses her arms. "You said I'm special. That I'm powerful. Let me use that power to protect our home."
"Absolutely not." I kneel to her level. "Rory, these are dangerous people. They want to hurt you—"
"Then let them try." Her eyes flash amber. "I'm tired of running, Mama. Tired of being scared. You taught me to survive. But you also taught me to stand firm. To fight for what's mine." She gestures to the compound. "These people—this place—it's ours now. Our pack. And pack protects each other."
Mark exchanges a look with me. "She's not wrong."
"She's three!"
"She's an Alpha." Elder Sarah speaks for the first time, stepping forward from where she's been silently observing. "And she's right. Running will only delay the inevitable. Stella won't stop until she's confronted. Until she's defeated."
"So what are you suggesting? We let a toddler fight a pack of wolves?"
"No." Mason's voice is hard. "We let an Alpha defend her territory with the support of her pack. And her father."
Rory looks at him directly for the first time since we entered the compound.
"You're him," she says. "My father. The one who rejected Mama."
"Yes."
"Are you sorry?"
The question is simple. Childlike. But the weight behind it could crush mountains.
"More than you could possibly understand," Mason says quietly. "I made a terrible mistake. One I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for."
"Will the rest of your life be long enough?"
"Probably not. But I'll try anyway."
Rory studies him for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. You can help protect us. But if you fail again—if you choose wrong again—I won't forgive you. Not ever."
"I understand."
"Good." She turns to Mark. "How long until they get here?"
"Maybe an hour. Maybe less if they're traveling fast."
"Then we need to prepare." Rory's voice carries authority that shouldn't belong to a child. "Mama, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
I look at my daughter—my brilliant, powerful, extraordinary daughter—and realize she stopped being just a child the moment she was born.
She's always been more. Always been destined for this.
"I trust you," I say.
"Good. Then here's what we're going to do..."
And as Rory outlines her plan—a plan that's tactically sound, strategically brilliant, and absolutely terrifying—I realize something important.
My daughter doesn't need me to protect her anymore.
She needs me to stand beside her.
As an equal. As pack.
And if that means facing down Stella and fifteen wolves with a three-year-old Alpha leading the char
ge, then that's exactly what I'll do.
Because Rory is right.
It's time to stop running.
It's time to fight.
And God help anyone who stands in our way.