Page 51 of Primal

“You’re right, McNamara,” I begrudgingly admit through clenched teeth. “My omegas do need you, but I’m done upholding this façade of mutual respect and pretending I don’t know your true motives.”

“How very noble of you,” Cathal sneers, his voice dripping with mockery and thinly veiled contempt. “Spare me the tortured martyr routine, boy. It’s grating.As long as you continue to play your part, I take no issue with dropping this fake narrative between us. I think it will be better for both of us if we be straightforward with one another. It leaves less room for…misunderstandings or incorrect expectations, don’t you think?”

This fucking asshole…

“Agreed.”

“Wonderful,” he chirps, sounding more than pleased with himself. “With that being said, I want to make my expectations clear where my daughter and you are concerned. Talis reassuredme that you’ve taken care of the wolfless girl and her rejection was effective. Nice touch bringing Talis with you.” It wasn’t a nice touch. It was cruel, and letting that venomous redhead open her mouth or contribute in any way to Noa’s suffering is something I’ll regret until my last breath. “With her out of the way, you can focus on what’s important—your union with my daughter. It is on you to ensure she is shown the respect she is due as your future Luna and that your pack falls in line and accepts her because one way or another, this will end with your mark on her neck.”

For the first time in three days, my wolf stirs. He lifts his head, a guttural snarl vibrating low and dangerous in my chest. It doesn’t carry the full weight of his usual fury, but it’s more than I’ve felt from him since that goddamn clearing. It’s a sign. A shared vow between us. Whatever fractures still exist between man and beast, we agree on one thing—if there’s one line I won’t fucking cross, it’s putting my mark on Talis McNamara.

I may have only just accepted that this alliance can’t stand, but the urgency to find another way roars inside me like a battle cry. The very idea of committing such a sacred, irreversible act with Talis makes my skin crawl. Mating marks are meant to be a symbol of a pair’s unwavering devotion to one another. They should be worn with pride, and I’d sooner burn my own flesh off than wear her claim on me.

“This brings me to the reason for my call. Your official betrothal party is happening two weekends from now, and I want to ensure everything, along with yourself, is prepared for it. It will be the first official gathering of our two packs since Talis was announced as your intended mate. It will give my daughter and you a chance to show up as a united front, as a mated pair. I expect it to go off without a hitch.”

The thought of standing beside Talis at some spectacle of a betrothal party makes my jaw clench hard enough I hear itpop. Pretending she’s mine, letting her drape herself all over me while our packs look on like this is something to celebrate, is the last thing I want. Every forced smile, every false word of admiration, will feel like sandpaper on my soul. Because the only hands I want on me are hers. Noa’s. The only touch I crave is the one I rejected before I got the chance to really know it, like a fucking coward. I’ll have to fake it, smile through gritted teeth, let Talis play her part, all the while my thoughts would be consumed by the woman I’ll never stop needing and will do everything in my power to get back. It’s a performance I have no interest in giving, but one I’ll endure just long enough to buy myself time. Because the only thing more unbearable than feigning a future with Talis is the thought of letting Cathal think he’s already won.

“I’m sure all the appropriate people are on top of everything, and I’ll confirm with Rhosyn just to be sure.” It’s a bald-faced lie, considering I have no idea if Rhosyn or Canaan have any plans to return anytime soon. But Cathal doesn’t need to know that. He’ll recognize her name and the critical role she plays in keeping this place running, and that’s all that matters.

Letting him think everything’s under control and on track is imperative. I need him focused on the illusion while I quietly start making the moves that will lead me to a real solution—one that doesn’t end with Talis wearing my mark or Noa bearing the weight of my betrayal alone.

“Very well,” McNamara says. “I’m glad you finally deigned to take my call. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to drive back down there to speak to you in person about this.” His threat is so poorly concealed, but I think that’s the point.

“We definitely wouldn’t want that,” I agree, sarcasm dripping off my tongue.

I don’t bother waiting for a reply or wasting time on a polite sign-off. I hang up and shove the cracked phone across the desk,the device scraping against the ruined surface before settling among the wreckage. Groaning, I settle back into my chair. The torn and ripped cushion below me reminding me of the destruction I’d wreaked in this room. On top of needing all new furniture and electronics, I’m fairly certain I’ll need someone to come in and repair the walls. I can’t be sure if the holes were caused by me throwing shit at them or if it were my own fist going through the drywall.

Those repairs are the least of my worries right now, though.

No, I have much more vital things to repair.

If they can even be repaired.

Fuck.

I slump further into my seat. My hands drag down my face, scraping over the short beard that is probably in need of a good trim, and I lean my head back, eyes closed. Exhaustion hits me all at once. I’ve been running on nothing but anger and guilt, and now that the call has ended, now that I’ve finally let some of that decay bleed out, I feel the crash. My bones ache. My thoughts are a tangle of sharp edges and regrets.

I should be planning. Plotting the next move. Finding a way to untangle this disaster without losing any more of what I’ve already sacrificed. But the quiet is loud, and for a second, all I can do is sit in it. Breathe it.

And while I do, I let myself focus on the thread still nestled in my chest.

It’s faint, but there. That fragile connection still pulses between me and her, the bond I thought I’d severed. It should be gone—burned out, stone cold—but for reasons I don’t understand, it’s not. It’s there, flickering like the last ember in a dying fire, clinging to life.

It’s my private symbol of hope. Hope that, even if I don’t deserve it and the odds are not in my favor, I will somehow be able to mend the ruin I’ve caused.

The phone vibrates against the desk with a text.

I ignore it. If it’s Cathal again, he can stew in his own self-importance for a while longer. Then it buzzes again, longer this time, a persistent hum that slices through the quiet. Reluctantly, I lean forward and flip the phone over.

Canaan.

Every muscle in my body locks.

Three days. Nothing but silence and distance. Just one short message to let me know where they stood.We’re still with her.I haven’t stopped thinking about those words since. I've accepted, no, braced, for the possibility that he wouldn’t reach out again. That he and Rhosyn had drawn their line and decided I wasn’t on the right side of it.

My thumb hovers for half a second.

Then I answer.

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