Chapter 28 Twenty eight

Chapter 28 Twenty eight
 Ella’s POV

The forest holds its breath.

Sam stands in front of me, still in his wolf form, muscles coiled, hackles raised. Jude is frozen several feet away, chest heaving, his own wolf half-shifted, eyes wild with panic. The other rogues, those who had been so bold just a moment ago, now stand rooted in place, staring into the darkness of the trees.

Because that howl wasn’t just a rogue wolf’s.

It was older.

Darker.

Bound to me by blood I have spent my entire life trying to outrun.

The underbrush cracks.

Then he steps out.

A massive black wolf, bigger than any Alpha I have ever seen, fur as dark as the void and eyes, those eyes. The same deep, molten red I remember watching as a child when he performed rituals in the forest. The same eyes that used to look at me with something twisted that he called love.

My father.

Even after all these years, his presence suffocates me. I cannot run. I cannot breathe. It is as if the forest, the air, the world bends to him.

Sam emits a deep growl. Protective. Warning.

My father’s eyes flick to him, unimpressed, like one might look at a fly.

Then his gaze falls on me.

His wolf lowers its head, not in submission, not in affection, something stranger. As though he is taking in every inch of me. Every change. Every scar. Judging what I have become.

Something inside my chest twists painfully.

Jude is the first to break.

“W-we should leave, ” he stutters, taking a step back.

My father’s wolf moves once.

Just one step.

And Jude collapses to his knees, trembling. Not because of physical force.

Because of dominance.

Pure. Overwhelming. Ancient dominance.

The rogues whimper and bow without being commanded.

Sam doesn’t bow.

But I feel the strain in him. I feel his bones resisting instinct, his wolf wrestling to stay upright.

I move before I realize I am moving, stepping in front of Sam.

My father makes a rumbling sound, almost pleased.

“Ella,” Sam warns, his voice emerging through the link, strained and hoarse. Don’t.

But I know something Sam doesn’t.

My father does not like to be challenged.

Even by Alphas. Especially by Alphas. If Sam attacks first, he will die. No hesitation. No mercy.

I cannot let that happen.

I swallow, tasting blood from my bitten lip. “Dad,” I whisper.

The massive wolf shifts, bones snapping and reshaping, fur withdrawing into skin until a tall man stands in the clearing. Bare-chested, scars etched across his body in deep, ancient runes. Ritual marks. Power woven into flesh.

He looks exactly as I remember him, and somehow worse.

“Ella,” he says softly.

Softly. As if he is greeting a beloved daughter.

The sound of his voice makes my stomach twist. A thousand memories rush up, some warm, most horrifying.

“You’re alive,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I always knew you would be. You are mine, after all.”

Sam snarls behind me. A low, vicious warning.

My father ignores him completely.

“I heard rumors,” my father continues, his head tilting. “My daughter, living among wolves who despise her. Wearing the mark of a mate who would rather break her than protect her.”

His gaze sharpens. “And yet you stayed. You endured. Why?”

My breath shakes.

Because I thought I deserved it. Because I believed I had to repent. Because I thought no one would ever love someone like me.

But I don’t answer.

His eyes flick to my neck, to the bruises still fading from Sam’s hands.

Sam shifts back in a blur of movement, his body snapping into human form, bare and bleeding in places where the rogues had scratched him. He steps directly beside me, wrapped in nothing but fury.

“Don’t touch her,” Sam says.

My father turns to him slowly.

For a heartbeat, the world seems to stop.

The air thickens with power. The rogues flatten to the ground. Even the wind stills.

“You dare speak,” my father murmurs, “after what you have done to her?”

Sam bares his teeth. “She is mine.”

“No,” my father says, voice calm. “She was never yours. You marked her to keep her alive, not because you valued her. You caged her. Starved her. Allowed your pack to injure her.” His tone does not rise, but something in it feels like the edge of a blade. “If you had not been drugged that night, you would still pretend she was nothing.”

Sam’s jaw clenches. His chest rises unevenly. His hands curl into fists.

Because it’s true.

For the first time, Sam does not deny it.

My father steps closer. His eyes soften, soft in a way that is somehow more terrifying.

“She is my blood,” he says. “My heir. And you, ” His gaze pins Sam in place. “You made her suffer.”

Sam’s voice is low. Broken. “I know.”

The admission shocks me.

My father considers him.

Then his gaze shifts to me, sweeping over me as if counting each year, each wound, each breath I’ve survived without him.

“You ran from me,” he says. Not angry. Not accusatory. Just stating it. “You believed I would harm you.”

My throat tightens painfully. I can’t speak.

He steps closer again, until he is right in front of me.

And he reaches out.

Sam moves instantly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me behind him, placing himself between us.

My father stops.

Not because he is intimidated, he isn’t.

But because he… smiles.

It is small. Nostalgic. Sad.

“You think I’m here to take her,” he says.

Sam doesn’t answer.

My father looks past him, directly at me.

“I came to see if you were still alive,” he says. “And to give you one message.”

He lifts his hand, not toward me, but toward the woods.

“They are coming.”

The words settle into my bones like ice.

Sam stiffens. “Who?”

My father’s expression darkens. “The ones who fed the rogues. The ones who want revenge for what happened in the forest. The ones who want her.”

My heart stops.

“They know she survived,” he says quietly. “And they will not rest until she is dead.”

Silence. A silence that feels like the world is breathing in before it screams.

Sam grabs my hand.

My father’s eyes flicks to the gesture, but he says nothing.

Instead, he steps back, the shadows swallowing him like they had been waiting.

“One more thing,” he says, just before the darkness fully claims him.

“You were never the monster, Ella.” My breath shatters.

“For all you endured…” His eyes soften one last time. “…I am proud of you.” Then he is gone. The forest exhales.

The rogues scatter, disappearing into trees, tripping over each other to escape the presence that lingers like smoke.

Jude runs too, but not far enough. Sam’s wolf form tears after him with a sound that chills the night.

I stand alone, staring at the place where my father once stood, my heart aching with a grief I don’t know how to name. Because for the first time…

I saw a glimpse of the father I once hoped he could be. And that may hurt more than all the rest.