Page 42 of Once You Go Pack
But it was the sight of Mila that nearly shattered his carefully maintained control.
She stood beside Lyra near the memorial altar, her golden hair swept back in a simple style that somehow made her look both elegant and approachable. The formal black dress she wore—one from the wardrobe he’d selected for her—hugged her body in a way that made his wolf rumble with possessive pride. But it was her actions that stole his breath entirely.
Lyra was crying—soft, silent tears that spoke of a grief too deep for words—and Mila had one arm wrapped around his sister’s shoulders, offering quiet comfort with the kind of natural grace that couldn’t be taught. Her free hand rubbed soothing circles on Lyra’s back while she whispered something that made his sister nod and lean into her embrace.
She’s taking care of my family,Cade realized, his chest tightening with a mixture of gratitude and longing so intense it nearly brought him to his knees.She’s standing there being everything we need, everything I should be giving them, and I’m...
Standing alone. Isolated by duty and the suffocating weight of expectations, while his mate provided the comfort and connection his family desperately needed.
Through their fragile mate bond, he felt her strength like a steady flame in the darkness. Not the blazing fire of alpha dominance, but the quiet, enduring warmth of someone who refused to break under pressure. Someone who saw what needed to be done and simply did it, without fanfare or expectation of recognition.
I don’t deserve her,the thought whispered through his mind like a prayer and a condemnation.She came here for excitement, for something beyond her ordinary life, and instead she’scomforting my grieving sister while I hide behind the crown like a coward.
But even as the self-recrimination threatened to consume him, something else filtered through their bond—something that sounded suspiciously like her voice, warm and fierce and absolutely certain:I’m not going anywhere.
The words knocked the breath from his lungs, whether imagined or somehow transmitted through their mate connection. His wolf whined, desperate to cross the room and bury his face in her neck, to breathe in her scent and let her strength anchor him to something real and solid.
But I can’t,he reminded himself, forcing his attention back to the steady stream of dignitaries offering their respects.Not here. Not in front of everyone. If I let myself lean on her now, if I show them how much I need her, they’ll see it as weakness. Zarik will see it as weakness.
An elderly council member approached—Elder Whitefang from the Blue Moon pack—his weathered face creased with genuine sympathy. “Your Majesty, your father was a great king. The Blue Moon pack stands ready to support your reign in any way necessary.”
“Thank you, Elder Whitefang. Your loyalty means everything during this time.”
The words came automatically again. But his gaze kept drifting back to Mila, drawn like a moth to a flame despite his best efforts to maintain royal composure.
She looked up at that moment, their eyes meeting across the crowded hall, and the jolt of connection that passed between them nearly made him stumble. Her blue eyes held no pity and no disappointment at his distance—only understanding and a fierce determination that caused his wolf to howl with recognition.
She knows,he realized.She understands why I can’t go to her right now, and she’s not angry about it. She’s just... there. Waiting. Being exactly what I need her to be.
Another hour crawled by in a blur of condolences and political maneuvering disguised as grief. His feet ached from standing in formal shoes, his jaw hurt from maintaining a stoic expression, and his wolf clawed at him with increasing desperation.
Just a little longer,he promised both himself and the beast within.Once everyone leaves, once the viewing is over, then I can...
“The viewing has concluded,” Martin announced from the front of the hall, his voice carrying the authority of a Beta speaking for his king. “Thank you all for honoring King Drake’s memory. The funeral procession will begin tomorrow at dawn.”
The hall began to empty slowly, conversations continuing in hushed tones as the various pack representatives filed toward the exit. Cade remained frozen beside his father’s casket, unable to move, unable to look down at the still form that had once commanded an entire army with nothing more than a lifted eyebrow.
One by one, the mourners departed. Lyra kissed his cheek and whispered something about seeing him in the morning before following the crowd toward the doors. Martin lingered for a moment, his expression questioning, but Cade shook his head slightly and his Beta retreated with understanding.
Soon, the vast hall held only two people: a newly crowned king drowning in responsibility and grief, and the human woman who had somehow become his lifeline in the span of three impossible days.
He expected her to leave with the others. Expected her to give him the space that protocol demanded, and the distance that would allow him to maintain the illusion of strength and control.
Instead, she walked toward him.
Her heels clicked against the marble floor with quiet determination, each step echoing in the emptiness like a challenge to every rule of royal behavior he’d ever learned. She stopped directly in front of him, close enough that he could smell her sweet scent beneath the funeral flowers, and close enough to see the fierce resolve burning in her blue eyes.
“I’m not going to be ignored anymore,” she said, her voice steady despite the magnitude of what she was doing—confronting a grieving king in the sacred space where his father lay in state. “I didn’t want to force you to let me comfort you, but apparently I need to, because you’re not going to admit you need help.”
The words hit him like ice water, stripping away every carefully constructed barrier he’d built around his heart. Here was this incredible woman—this human who had no obligation to him beyond a mate bond she’d never asked for—standing up to him with the kind of courage that most of his pack members couldn’t muster.
She’s fighting for us,he realized with stunning clarity.She’s fighting for our mate bond, for what we could have together, even when I’m too much of a coward to reach for it myself.
“Mila, I?—“
“No.” She stepped closer, eliminating the last few inches between them, and reached up to cup his face in her hands. The touch was gentle but unyielding, demanding his complete attention. “You don’t get to shut me out. Not anymore. Not when you’re hurting like this.”
Something inside him cracked at her words—some fundamental wall he’d built to protect himself from the very thing standing before him. The grief he’d been holding at bay, the fear of failure, the desperate need for connection that hiswolf had been howling for since the moment his father died—all of it came rushing to the surface like a dam bursting.
