Page 4 of Rebel for Claws
"The soup seems to be helping," Cade observed from his position near the kitchen counter, pouring steaming coffee into a ceramic mug. "The color's coming back to your face."
Alaric managed a grunt of acknowledgment, his throat still raw from the breathing apparatus they'd forced on him during the experimental procedures. The hot broth had been a mercy,the first real sustenance he'd tasted in weeks that wasn't designed to keep him compliant and weak.
"Your boys should be here within the hour." Cade settled into the leather chair across from him, his weathered features creased with concern. "Kieran sounded... intense on the phone."
Intense. That's one word for it.
Alaric's jaw tightened as he remembered what he'd done at Moon Hollow five months ago—the public banishment of his son Kieran he'd been forced to decree, the guilt that had burned in Alaric's veins when he cast out his eldest son for refusing to kill an innocent hybrid. The memory sent a fresh wave of self-loathing through his chest.
"He has every right to hate me," Alaric said, his voice rougher than he intended. "They both do."
Cade leaned forward, his intuition reading the guilt radiating from his old friend. "You want to tell me what really happened that night at Thorne's estate five months ago? Because the version I heard doesn't match the man I trained with thirty years ago."
Alaric closed his eyes, feeling the weight of decades of deception pressing down on his shoulders. The dual identity he'd maintained—outward traditionalist, secret reformer—had cost him his sons' respect and nearly his life.
"I went to Thorne to negotiate." The words came out like ground glass. "Kieran had found his fated mate, and I wanted to prevent his banishment from becoming permanent. I thought I could convince the Council to accept Maya as his Luna."
"And Thorne's response?"
"He told me that hybrids were abominations that threatened our very existence." Alaric's eyes snapped open, gold bleeding into the grey as his wolf stirred with remembered rage. "He said that any Alpha who would allow such contamination of bloodlines was unfit to lead."
Cade's expression darkened. "So he had you removed."
"Sedated during dinner. Woke up in that facility with human scientists eager to understand what made an Alpha's blood special." Alaric's hand unconsciously moved to the small scar on his jaw—a memento from his first escape attempt. "Five months of being Thorne's pet experiment while he tried to extract whatever advantages he thought I possessed."
The fire crackled in the silence that followed, both men lost in the implications of Thorne's betrayal. Alaric pulled the blanket closer, his body still struggling to regulate temperature after months of controlled environment and chemical suppression.
"The boys don't know about your... extracurricular activities with the rebellion, do they?" Cade asked carefully.
My sons think I'm a tyrant. A traditionalist who values pack law over family.
"They know the version of me I had to show the world." Alaric's voice carried the heavy weight of years spent playing a role that had alienated his own children. "Rigid. Uncompromising. Loyal to the Council above all else."
"Even above them," Cade muttered.
"Especially above them." The admission tasted bitter. "I taught them to question authority while publicly demanding their absolute obedience. I implemented reforms under cover of darkness while maintaining the facade of unwavering tradition during Council meetings."
Cade whistled low. "That's a hell of a balancing act."
"One that ultimately failed." Alaric stared into the flames, seeing the disappointment in Kieran's eyes during their last time together at Moon Hollow, when he'd given Kieran the kill order on the hybrid, who ultimately ended up being Kieran's fated mate. "The last words I spoke to my eldest son were a kill order.The last time I saw Malcolm, he was watching his brother be cast out for showing mercy and valuing love over tradition."
What kind of father sacrifices his children's love and respect for the greater good?
The thermal henley stuck to his skin where nervous sweat had broken out despite the lingering chill in his bones. Five months of captivity had left him physically diminished but mentally sharper—the clarity that came from having everything stripped away except the essential truth of what mattered.
"They're going to have questions," Cade said.
"Questions I'm not sure I'm ready to answer yet." Alaric's hands trembled slightly as he reached for the water glass Cade had provided. "How do I explain thirty years of deception? How do I tell them that every harsh word, every impossible demand, and every moment they thought I chose duty over love was part of a lie I had to live to protect them?"
An hour later, sharp knocks echoed through the cabin like gunshots. Alaric's spine stiffened against the leather chair, his enhanced hearing catching the familiar rhythms—Kieran's controlled, measured strikes and Malcolm's more urgent rapping beneath. The sound sent his pulse stuttering, a primal recognition of his sons' presence that made his wolf stir restlessly beneath his skin.
Cade rose from his chair, crossing the wooden floor with practiced silence. When the door swung open, Alaric's breath caught in his throat.
Kieran filled the doorframe first—still imposing at six-foot-three, his midnight black hair disheveled from what had clearly been a frantic journey through December's bitter cold. Those silver-blue eyes, so much like Alaric's own, swept the cabin with tactical precision before locking onto his father's gaunt frame. The scar running from Kieran's right temple to his jaw seemedmore pronounced in the firelight, a reminder of the violence that had shaped his eldest son's path to leadership.
Malcolm appeared behind his brother, his shorter black hair wind-tossed and his blue eyes wide with concern. Both sons looked as though they'd pushed themselves to their breaking point racing to get here.
Christ, they look like men now. When did that happen?
