Page 28 of Lycan Prince's Secret Baby

But weeks later, with only Mark to glean information about Leah, I was unraveling. My assistant had reported that Leah hadn’t said anything about the escaped Blood Moons despite the lack of food and confinement she endured for weeks.

My heart squeezed at the thought of her down in the cells. My wolf wanted to go to her. Some nights, I woke in a cold sweat from nightmares, where branches weighed down by snow clawed at me, a devastating scream ringing in my ears. The first few times I’d had the dream, I’d been so convinced it was a premonition of harm to Leah, I’d insisted Mark check on her. But each time, he returned with the assurance that she was all right. I’d concluded the nightmares were part of my wolf’s agony with his mate locked up and unable to protect her.

Of course, it wasn’t just my wolf that was in pain at Leah’s imprisonment. The sense of betrayal I felt after discovering the disturbed papers in the safe and the likelihood that she was the spy in our midst twisted my insides. Hadn’t I known she was deceitful when I first laid eyes on her? But her tender-hearted treatment of her pack and the hints of vulnerability she’d shown me stole past the walls I’d built.

More and more, my thoughts returned to the moments we’d spent together. I saw her determination as she challenged me about my feelings, forcing that tormented confession from me, and the way her mouth had hung open in astonishment. All of her reactions had seemed so genuine. The way she’d melted into my embrace that night felt real.

Just because she’s attracted to you doesn’t mean she’s not deceitful.

Plagued by these relentless thoughts, I heaved a sigh. It was another reason I’d come to my father’s house—to gather comfort because here I was surrounded by memories of my mother. I pottered around the shelves, examining old memorabilia—my mother’s pottery, bowls and cups she’d made, alongside my own childhood attempts at the craft.

Eventually, I pulled a family photo album down from the shelf. Dust motes swirled in the soft lamplight. I hadn’t looked at pictures of her in years. It had hurt too much after her loss. Judging from the thick dust on these, my father was the same. I stared down at a picture of her and Maria laughing together in the garden. A stab of loneliness seared through me as I shut the album, preparing to return it. But something caught my eye in the nook behind the stack.

I frowned, pulling out a notebook. It opened near the back, where a bookmark lay between its pages. A faint hint of jasmine—my mother’s perfume, drifted from the pages.

I closed my eyes, the floral scent wrapping around me as if she were here. Opening my eyes, I drank in my mom’s flowing script over the pages. It was my mother’s old diary. Part of me experienced a surge of guilt as I started to read her words. Yet,as I read, it was almost as if her reflective tone was filling the air, and I couldn’t stop reading.

“Reginald’s contempt toward our neighbors has left me feeling cold. I keep telling him that to live in harmony with the Blood Moons will bring its own rewards—trade, expertise, allies, but I fear that his greed for their territory runs too deep.”

My heart thumped at this insight. I clutched my necklace as if I were grasping my mom’s hand. The cold pendant, firm beneath my skin, told me to read on.

There was only one more entry after the one I’d already read on the other side of the bookmark.

“It’s as I feared. Reginald will seize their territory by force. I need to trust in my own decisions. IamLuna of our pack, and I have to believe that going behind his back for the sake of our people, for the sake of both of our packs, will be worth it. I have to believe that the peace and alliance I will broker will be worth the rift that will come between us as husband and wife.”

The silence hung heavily around me, seeming to smother the house. I had always believed my father supported my mother in the peace talks. That’s what he’d told me after Mom’s death when I’d been twenty-one. I was suddenly back in my university room, sitting on my bed, and pressing my mobile to my ear as my world fell apart, my father breaking the news of her death.

I rifled back through her diary entries, most of them filled with concerns about my father’s greed and ambitions toward the Blood Moons. Scowling, I knew I needed to hunt for more information.

Purpose pitched through me. I needed answers about what had happened. I glanced outside and saw the lights in the Council Chamber flicker off. My chest thrummed with urgency; my father was finally leaving the Council Chambers. I extinguished the lights in the living room to conceal my presence, straining to see if my father would head toward the cell block.

When I saw him moving this way, I ducked into the cupboard beneath the stairs.

He’d be back in a few minutes. I could wait all night if I had to to search his office for anything else that might shed light on the events around my mother’s death.

But when my father entered, he wasn’t alone.

“You need to keep Kyle on a shorter leash. You’ve given him too much freedom. He’s got ideas in his head,” Sam said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Shock whipped through me at overhearing Sam talking aboutme. I held my breath.

“I’ve been too lenient on him,” my father growled, frustration in his tone laced with something sharper. “Sometimes, he reminds me too much of Tamara.” The creak of leather told me he or Sam had sat down on the sofa.

The utterance of my mother’s name made my skin crawl. His tone lacked any softness, only coldness and anger.

The clink of glass and the slosh of liquid met my ears, and I envisioned Sam helping himself to my father’s best bourbon. The elder had a taste for the finer things.

“Hmm,” Sam mused. “I’m inclined to agree with you. The more he embraces these reforms, the closer he gets to following her path. Letting him develop these ideas could lead your pack back to where it was with Tamara—her authority overshadowing yours.”

A wave of understanding crashed over me. My mother had overshadowed my father in the pack. The pack had been willing to follow her ideals, and Reginald couldn’t bear losing control to her. My heart thudded, lurching with the sickening suspicion of how far he’d been willing to go to protect his power.

A gruff agreement came from my father. “I’d thought him going off to university would be beneficial—to distance him from her influence, you know? But sometimes, I fear he’s got too much of her in his blood.” Resentment simmered in his every word, and I fought to quell my anger.

I clenched my fists. Dreaming up those reforms was when I felt most alive because, not only was I improving others’ lives, but Ididfeel closer to my mother. I was barely breathing as I knew how vital it was to keep quiet now.

“He doesn’t respect the traditions of the pack,” Sam added, his tone full of contempt.

“Perhaps seeing how this Blood Moon has tricked him, he’ll have more respect for tradition and less softness for those we’ve conquered,” Reginald said, his voice full of arrogance.

---