Page 4 of Bronx

“Bronx,” Steele began, his gray eyes serious but sympathetic, “I’ve been thinking about the future of our pack, especially now that we’re all beginning to heal from recent events.”

The Idaho Pack’s attack on the Moonstone Pack had been rough on everyone, Bronx knew, but he still flinched at the reminder of his own wounds. “Okay,” he said slowly, waiting for whatever was coming next.

Steele paused, gauging Bronx’s reaction. “We need to strengthen our ties with the Idaho Pack, and I believe you should choose a mate from within their ranks.”

The words hit Bronx like a rockslide down a cliff, his eyes widening as panic clawed at his chest.

A mate? From the Idaho Pack?

“Steele, I… I can’t,” he stammered, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. The thought of asking a woman to have him, to see beyond the battle-scarred exterior and accept him for who he was, terrified him more than any enemy he’d ever faced.

“This isn’t just about you,” Steele said gently, though the authority in his voice remained, a thread as hard as the metal the alpha had been named for. “It’s about forging bonds between our packs, creating a stronger future together.”

Bronx’s mind raced, images flashing through his head—a faceless woman recoiling in horror at the sight of his scars; the whispers and pitying glances of other pack members; a life spent alone, forever unworthy of love. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the images away, but they continued to haunt him.

“No,” he insisted. “I won’t do it. I can’t.”

Steele sighed, leaning forward in his chair. “You’ve been a loyal guardian for years. More than that, you’re my family. You deserve happiness, and I want you to have that chance. But you need to face your fears as well. It’s not just about you—it’s about our packs’ unity.”

The future of our packs rests on me?The thought speared Bronx straight through the belly. Silence hung between the two men, the conversation pressing down on Bronx like a physical force. He struggled to breathe, to think, but there was no escaping the reality of Steele’s words.

“I need you to do this, Bronx. You and Ryker—you’re more than just my family. We’re the descendants of the original Moonstone families. The pack leaders. And if we aren’t willing to integrate the Idahos into our lives, why should anyone else in the pack?”

“Ryker’s already taken a mate from the Idahos.”

Steele nodded. “That’s what gave me the idea.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Once might be a fluke. But if it’s not just Ryker—if you also choose a mate from among the Idahos—others could be convinced to consider it an option too.”

Bronx rubbed his hand across his eyes but didn’t speak. There had to be some way out of this insane plan of his cousin’s.

Steele paused for a long moment, as if considering his next words carefully. “I understand your fears,” he finally continued. “But if you don’t make a choice, I’ll have to make it an order from your alpha.”

The words hung between them like a storm cloud about to burst. Bronx’s throat tightened, and his scarred hands clenched into fists at his sides. An order from Steele was not something he could refuse, no matter how much it frightened him.

“Steele, please,” Bronx said in tones of raw vulnerability. “I’m not… I can’t… I’m too damaged for anyone to want me.”

“Enough of that,” Steele snapped. “You are not damaged, Bronx. You are strong, loyal, and one of the best guardians I’ve ever known. The scars only show what you’ve survived.”

Bronx swallowed hard. He knew, deep down, that the alpha was right—but how could he find the strength to believe in himself when all he saw were the scars?

“What if the woman I choose rejects me?” The question came out in a harsh whisper. “What if she can’t see past my scars?”

“Then she’s not the right mate for you,” Steele replied, his expression softening. “But you won’t know unless you try. And I truly believe there is someone out there who will see the man beneath the scars and love you for who you are.” He paused again. “At least consider it. For the sake of our packs, and for yourself.”

Bronx’s blood roared in his ears as he stared at Steele. The alpha rested his elbows on the dark oak desk between them.

With a sigh, Bronx nodded, his alpha’s not-quite-order sitting on his chest like a stone. He knew he couldn’t disobey Steele, even if the thought of obeying sent waves of panic through him.

“I’ll try,” he managed to grit out, swallowing hard.

“Good,” Steele said, nodding once before standing. “You have my support, and the support of our pack. You can do this, Bronx.”

As Bronx rose to his feet, he could only hope his alpha was right. That somewhere within the Idaho Pack, there was a woman who could see past his scars to the man behind them.

It felt like too much to ask for.

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