Page 29 of Alpha's Runaway Mate

“You plan on sparring with your shirt on?” His voice knocked me back to the present, and I turned around to take my shirt off. Luckily for me, I was wearing a tank top underneath.

“What’s that mark?” Dominic asked, his gaze locked on my side. I followed his eyes to the scar that never quite faded, remembering how I had gotten it—a burning dagger pressed to my abdomen.

Shaking off the traumatic thoughts, I turned back to Dominic, averting the conversation. “Are we doing this or not?”

He caught the hint, and thankfully, didn’t probe any further. “Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”

With every punch Dominic swung my way, I sidestepped, weaving my body in and out of his reach. He was slow, too slow, and I realized he was holding back. I caught his next strike mid-air and followed through with a high kick that grazed his cheek.

“Ouch,” he grunted, more in surprise than pain, touching his cheek to see if there was blood. “Well, that hurts.”

“I warned you,” I said with a small laugh.

He shook his shoulders and took his stance again, bouncing lightly on his feet as he urged me to come at him again.

“So…” he continued conversationally. “Kaine didn’t come home last night.”

“And how do you know that?” I threw a quick punch at him, but he ducked to avoid it effortlessly.

“I live in the packhouse with him.”

Right.

“I’m guessing that had something to do with you?” Dominic pressed on.

“Yeah, he, um, he came around last night,” I answered, keeping it as vague as possible.

Dominic’s smirk widened, clearly understanding what I was implying. “Well, just be careful, Lyra. You know the saying, ‘fool me twice’.”

I lowered my eyes on him. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just saying—Kaine rejected you. Who’s to say he won’t do it again? And he was going to get married to Juniper Greymont before you showed up. He’d moved on. That doesn’t just change overnight.”

I hesitated for a moment, distracted by his words, but that split second was all Dominic needed. His punch landed squarely on my jaw, knocking me to the ground. But it wasn’t the impact of the blow that hurt—it was the truth behind what he’d said.

God, I was such a fool for sleeping with him.

Chapter Twelve — Kaine’s POV

The whiskey had long lost its bite, but I kept drinking, hoping for the numbness to settle in. But it didn’t. The elder’s ultimatum echoed in my head, louder than the noise in the bar.You’ve been offered a chance to right your mistake, thanks to Zephyr. You have one week to marry Juniper and seal the alliance, or the Moonshadow pack walks away for good and we’d be making an enemy out of them.

After the failed retribution, the elders stayed behind while the rest of the pack filtered out. That’s when they revealed that they’d been working without my knowledge to revive the alliance after everything that went down at the mating ceremony. They all filed out one by one, but Zephyr remained.

He began by stating the obvious—what it means for a rejected mate to have the Alpha’s son. He spoke quietly, telling me that he had watched me grow and always believed I’d make a fine Alpha. Then he reminded me of where my loyalties should lie, and my father’s final words before he passed.

The conflict of the decision before me weighed heavily on me, so I went to the bar, hoping the alcohol would drown out the voices in my head. But it wasn’t much help. My father’s words lingered in my head, as though he was sitting beside me, and I was plunged back to that moment, six years ago…

The healer emerged from his room, and one look at her face told me everything. My father had just had another one of his seizures, and we had sent for the healer. She arrived in time torevive him, but when she looked at me now and shook her head, I knew that he didn’t have much time left.

“You should say your goodbyes,” she said softly. “He’s barely hanging on.”

Hearing her say it was like a rude awakening. My father was going to die today. She left and I entered the room, knowing that this might be our last conversation. My chest was heavy, and I felt a thick knot form in my throat when I saw my father lying in bed, looking pale, gaunt, and breathing slowly.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cry,” he said, his voice groggy yet still carrying a hint of humor even on the verge of death.

I chuckled, though it felt like a sharp pain stinging my chest. “You should save your strength, father.”

“So, what? We’re just going to sit here while you watch me die?”

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