I understood immediately what he intended. “You’re going to tell them.”
“I can’t let the lie stand another day.” His hand pressed more firmly against where our children grew, drawing strength from their movements. “They deserve better than a foundation built on deception. You deserve better than carrying the weight of my crime.”
The risk was staggering. An alpha admitting to killing his own brother, even in blood rage, would face challenges from every direction. The council could demand his execution. Other packs might declare war, seeing weakness to exploit. Everything Damon had built, everything his father had established, could crumble with this confession.
“You don’t have to do this. We could find another way.” Even as I said it, I knew he’d made up his mind. The set of his jaw, the resolution in his scent, all spoke of a decision that wouldn’t be swayed.
“No more lies. Our children deserve better than a foundation built on deception.” His lips pressed against my hair, breathing in my scent like fortification. “I’ve hidden from the truth for months. Let others judge for what I actually did.”
“The pack might call for your head.” The possibility made my chest tight with unexpected fear. Despite everything, the thought of losing him now, just when understanding had begun to bridge our chasm, felt unbearable.
“Then at least I’ll face judgment for my actual crimes, not let you carry them.” He shifted to look at me properly, dark eyes holding a peace I’d never seen before. “I’d rather die with truth than live with lies.”
“Your mother will never forgive this.” Lucinda’s reaction would be volcanic. She’d lost Laziel, and now Damon would publicly admit to being his killer. The perfect son revealing himself as a fratricide, choosing an omega over family honor.
We rose together as the sun climbed higher, the morning routine taking on the weight of finality. Damon helped me dress, his hands gentle with the dark blue dress that accommodated my growing belly while maintaining dignity. His fingers lingered on the zipper, tracing the line of my spine with reverent touch.
“Whatever happens,” he said against my shoulder, “know that I’m doing this freely. Not for forgiveness, not for redemption, but because it’s right.”
I turned in his arms, reaching up to frame his face. “I know. That’s what terrifies me.”
He kissed me then, deep and desperate, pouring promise into the connection. When we broke apart, both breathing hard, I saw fear in his eyes that matched my own. But beneath it, stronger than terror, was determination that wouldn’t be moved.
“Together?” he asked, offering his arm.
“Together,” I agreed, though the word felt fragile as spun glass.
The great hall buzzed with the comfortable chaos of pack leadership at breakfast. Advisors debated territory disputes overeggs and coffee. Department heads reviewed reports between bites of pastry. The normalcy of it all made what was coming feel surreal, like watching a calm sea before a tsunami.
We entered through the main doors, and conversation stuttered to a halt. Every eye tracked to where Damon’s hand rested possessively over my bump, to the way he positioned himself between me and any potential threat. The whispers started immediately, why was the accused murderer at the formal breakfast? Why did their Lycan King treat her with such careful attention?
Lucinda sat at the matriarch’s place, ivory silk making her look carved from marble. Her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw our linked hands, the protective way Damon guided me to the head table. The weeks since our return had been a cold war between mother and son, each maintaining distance while the pack watched nervously. Now that détente was about to shatter spectacularly.
“Good morning, Mother,” Damon said with perfect courtesy that fooled no one.
“Damon.” Her acknowledgement was like ice given voice. Her gaze flicked to me with naked disgust before returning to her son. “I see you’ve brought your pet to breakfast. How... quaint.”
The insult slid off me, insignificant compared to what was coming. Damon’s hand tightened on mine briefly, the only sign her words had landed. We took our seats as the meal proceeded with forced normalcy, though tension wound tighter with each passing minute.
I picked at fresh fruit while Damon discussed border patrol reports with his security chief. The mundane pack business felt surreal, knowing he was about to detonate everything with truth. Around us, the pack’s elite conducted their morning rituals, blissfully unaware they were about to witness history.
“The northern perimeter needs reinforcement,” someone was saying. “Three rogues were spotted last week, testing boundaries.”
“Double the patrols,” Damon agreed, voice perfectly steady. “And increase sensor coverage in the blind spots.”
Normal orders for a normal morning, if you ignored the way his hand trembled slightly on his coffee cup. If you didn’t notice how he kept glancing at the great clock, counting down to his confession. If you missed the way various council members watched us with barely concealed curiosity.
Finally, as servers cleared the main course, Damon stood. The movement commanded instant attention, conversations dying mid-word as the pack turned to their king. Power radiated from him in waves that made even the strongest alphas shift nervously. This wasn’t going to be a normal morning address.
“I stand before you to correct a grave injustice.” His voice carried to every corner of the vast hall, alpha command ensuring none could ignore him.
The words fell like stones into still water, ripples of unease spreading through the assembled pack. Several advisors exchanged loaded glances. Guards stationed around the perimeter straightened, hands moving unconsciously toward weapons. Everyone sensed something momentous approaching.
“Months ago, I condemned Rhea Thornback for the murder of my brother.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “I was wrong. She never harmed Laziel. I did, in a blood rage over my mate.”
The hall erupted. Gasps, shocked exclamations, chairs scraping as people rose involuntarily. But Damon continued, voice rising above the chaos with alpha authority that demanded silence.
“The evidence was clear, had I chosen to see it. The claw marks, the pattern of attack, the very possibility of an omega overpowering an alpha prince. But I was blinded by grief and rage, eager for someone to blame.” His gaze found mine across the chaos. “I blamed the one person who showed me nothing but loyalty.”
