Page 62 of The Reaper's Vow
She swallows hard, her fingers still twisted in my shirt, and I feel her walls slowly rising again gathering the pieces of herself she had let slip for just a breath. Just enough to let me in.
I press one last kiss to the corner of her mouth, then shift her gently off my lap and back into the passenger seat. She curls into herself, silent but watching me.
The engine rumbles back to life beneath us, and I force my hands to stay on the wheel where they won’t betray how close I am to turning this car around just to take her somewhere I can finish what we started.
But I don’t.
I drive. The hours pass, the car ride stretching between us like a live wire. Karina hasn't spoken since our roadside encounter, her face turned toward the window as miles disappear beneath our tires. The silence should bother me, but it doesn't. My wolf understands what words can't express—the terror still clinging to her skin, the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
The first hints of dawn bleed across the horizon when I see it. My ancestral home. The Marek compound rises from the mist-shrouded forest like something from another time—stone and timber and power stretching across the mountainside. Watchtowers mark the perimeter, sentries already alerted to our approach. My father's security doesn't miss a thing.
“We're here.”
Karina stirs beside me, tension radiating through her body as she takes in the imposing structure ahead. “This is where you grew up?”
“This is where I was born.” The distinction matters, though I can't explain why.
The iron gates stand open, a rare sight that tells me my father received my message. He's expecting us. The knowledge sits like lead in my stomach. Hudson Marek doesn't do anything without calculation, including welcoming home his prodigal son.
I feel Karina's anxiety spike as we drive past the first checkpoint. Guards with assault rifles track our movement, their expressions giving nothing away. To them, I'm still the Alpha's son. The Marek heir coming home at last.
“Who are all these people?” Karina whispers, shrinking into her seat as we pass groups of wolves going about their morning routines. Some stop to watch us, recognition and curiosity flickering across their faces.
“My pack,” I answer, the words feeling foreign on my tongue after so long away.
I guide the car up the winding drive that leads to the main house—a sprawling structure of stone and timber that dominates the highest point of the compound. My father's pride and joy, designed to showcase the Marek power to anyone who visits. The message is clear. We see everything from up here.
“Your father lives there?”
“We all do.” I park near the front steps, killing the engine but making no move to exit.
And all the danger that comes with it.
“It's time,” I say, reaching for the door handle. “Knowing my father, he’s already waiting for me.”
The mountain air hits us like a slap as we exit the car—crisp and thin at this elevation, carrying the scents of pine and wolf and home. Karina shivers beside me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her against my side as we ascend the stone steps. My scent will offer some protection, marking her as mine even to those who can't see the bite on her neck.
The oak doors swing open before we reach them. My father's beta, Gabriel, stands in the entryway, his expression carefully neutral as he takes in our blood-stained appearance.
“Alpha Hudson is waiting in his study.”
No 'welcome home.' No questions about our condition. Just business as usual in the Marek household.
“We need to clean up first.”
Gabriel hesitates, clearly weighing my request against my father's orders. “Alpha Hudson was very specific about?—”
“Gabriel.” My voice drops to the register I've used on men before I killed them. “Look at us. We're covered in blood. My mate needs a shower and clean clothes before she meets my father.”
The word has the desired effect. Gabriel stiffens, his focus shifting back to Karina with sharpened interest. “Of course. I'll inform Alpha Hudson you'll join him within the hour.”
“Make it two, and have someone bring a change of clothes for her.”
His jaw tightens, but he inclines his head. “As you wish.”
He steps aside, granting us entry.
I guide Karina through the grand hall, my palm steady at the small of her back. The marble floors gleam beneath our feet, immaculate despite the predawn hour. My mother’s influence lingers in every detail—the tasteful artwork, the vases of fresh-cut flowers, the faint polish of lemon that can’t quite smother the deeper scent of wolf.
