POV – James
The morning sunlight cut through the soft mist that lingered after the storm, painting the streets in pale gold.
Elena sat beside me, quiet, her hands folded neatly in her lap as I drove. Every few seconds, I caught her reflection in the window — thoughtful, distant, beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.
For a while, neither of us spoke. It wasn't uncomfortable — just that kind of silence that exists between two people who have already said everything that matters without needing words.
Finally, I glanced at her. "You're quiet," I said softly.
She smiled faintly, still looking out the window. "Just thinking."
"About?"
Her lips curved a little more. "About how surreal this feels."
I chuckled under my breath. "You and me both."
Her gaze shifted toward me then, eyes warm but cautious. "James…" she began, her tone hesitant, "I just don't want this to get complicated."
I looked at her, meaning every word when I said, "It already is. But I'm not sorry."
That earned me a soft laugh — the kind that sounded like sunlight breaking through clouds.
We drove in silence for a few more minutes, the city slowly waking around us. I wanted to say something — something simple, human, unguarded — and before I could stop myself, the truth slipped out.
"I'm really enjoying this," I said.
She blinked, glancing at me. "This?"
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my mouth. "The mornings with you. The quiet. Even the nerves. It feels… good."
For a second, she just looked at me — and I swear, something in her eyes softened in a way that made the world slow down.
When we reached the street near Ashford Industries, I eased the car to a stop a few buildings away, like we'd agreed. She unclipped her seatbelt, pausing for a heartbeat before speaking.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For making this feel… safe."
I wanted to tell her she was safe — always would be — but instead, I just smiled. "Go on. I'll be right behind you."
She stepped out, graceful as always, her hair catching the light, and I watched her walk away — the way her heels clicked against the pavement, the quiet strength in every step.
The wolf inside me purred with pride and longing in equal measure. Mate.
When she disappeared through the glass doors of the building, I pulled into a nearby spot and killed the engine. The moment the door shut, the Alpha in me stirred — the man fading, the protector awakening.
By the time I reached my office, I was already dialing Lucian.
He answered on the second ring. "Morning, Alpha. I take it you've survived your weekend."
"Barely," I muttered. "I need you in my office. Now."
He chuckled. "That bad?"
"That important."
Minutes later, Lucian appeared — composed as always, crisp shirt, calm eyes, and that subtle aura of command that made him the perfect Beta. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. "I take it this is about Miss Dorne."
My jaw tightened. "It's always about Miss Dorne."
He smiled faintly. "Then we're aligned."
I gestured for him to sit, though I didn't. I could feel the storm still in me — the need, the restraint, the gnawing urgency of knowing she was only a few floors below, oblivious to who she truly was.
"I can't keep lying to her," I said finally. "She has to know what she is, what I am. But I can't just tell her she's a descendant of an ancient bloodline and expect her not to run."
Lucian nodded slowly, folding his hands. "I anticipated this."
I arched a brow. "Of course you did."
He smirked. "You've never been subtle, Alpha. The moment I sent that report, I knew it was only a matter of time before you'd call me. So, I've been digging deeper."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded file — thinner than before, but with a faint silver mark etched on the front. My pulse quickened.
"What is this?"
"Not a record. A ritual."
My eyes narrowed. "Lucian…"
He met my gaze steadily. "It's not magic in the witch sense — at least not fully. Think of it as an awakening. There's an old Lycan practice for revealing dormant bloodlines. It doesn't force the truth; it… guides it. It can awaken her senses gradually, safely."
I frowned. "And what's the catch?"
Lucian's lips curved slightly. "It requires proximity. Strong emotional connection. Trust. Which, from what I've seen, you have in abundance."
I gave him a look. "Lucian."
He laughed quietly. "Relax. It's not dangerous — for her, at least. But it will test your control. The more she awakens, the more the bond will intensify. Once she starts feeling the pull, you won't be able to hide what you are for long."
I leaned against the desk, exhaling slowly. "You think she's ready?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "Emotionally? Yes. Spiritually? Her blood is already stirring. She's felt it — she just doesn't understand it yet. This will bring her closer to the truth… and to you."
I stared at the papers in my hand — the faint silver symbol catching the light. "And if I wait?"
Lucian's eyes darkened slightly. "Then the awakening will happen on its own. But uncontrolled. Painful. Confusing. You'd lose her before you could explain."
I went quiet, the weight of the decision pressing against me.
Lucian rose, his tone softening. "You love her, Alpha. That's clear. But love without truth doesn't survive long. She needs to know — in the way she was meant to."
I looked toward the window, down at the streets below. Somewhere there, Elena was sitting at her desk, focused, unaware that her whole world hung by threads of destiny she couldn't yet see.
And in that moment, I made the only choice I could.
"Prepare it," I said quietly.
Lucian inclined his head. "Already done."
As he turned to leave, I caught my reflection in the glass — a man caught between two worlds, and one woman who unknowingly held both.
This wasn't just about love anymore.
It was about fate.
…
The morning had been a blur of half-finished meetings and unspoken thoughts.
Even with a thousand things demanding my attention, my mind kept circling back to her — the soft cadence of her laugh in the car, the look she'd given me before walking into the building, that quiet courage she carried like a second skin.
I was staring at a spreadsheet that might as well have been written in an alien language when I heard a soft knock at the door.
"Come in," I said automatically, without looking up.
Her voice answered. "Mr. Ashford?"
Every muscle in my body reacted before my brain did. I looked up — and there she was.
Elena Dorne, framed by the doorway, sunlight catching the ends of her hair, professionalism wrapped around her like armor that didn't quite hide the warmth underneath.
"Miss Dorne," I said, forcing my tone into something that resembled composure, though the corner of my mouth betrayed me with a smile. "What brings you here?"
She stepped inside, a folder in her hands, doing her best to look composed. "There's a new restructuring proposal for Human Resources — I need your written authorization before I can forward it to the finance division."
I gestured toward the chair opposite mine. "Of course. Sit."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying, and as she did, her perfume drifted across the space between us — something clean, warm, faintly sweet. My pulse betrayed me instantly.
She placed the folder on the desk. "It's just a routine approval," she said quickly, as if trying to fill the air before it could become charged.
I reached for the pen, my gaze flicking to hers. "Routine approvals shouldn't make you this nervous, Elena."
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened. "Maybe it's not the paperwork."
That simple sentence stole the breath from my lungs. I felt the smile tug at my lips before I could stop it.
"Then I'll have to make sure your boss is a little less intimidating," I murmured.
Her cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady. "That might help."
Our eyes met again — and in that instant, the office, the glass walls, the whole damn company disappeared. There was only her.
The woman who had somehow dismantled every wall I'd ever built.
"Elena," I said quietly, "about last night—"
But I never finished.
The door opened without warning.
And everything stopped.
A familiar voice — deep, firm, unmistakably commanding — filled the room.
"James."
I froze. Slowly, I looked.
My parents stood in the doorway.
My father, tall, broad-shouldered, his hair silvered but still striking, the weight of a lifetime of leadership in his stance. My mother beside him, poised and elegant, her presence softer but no less powerful — eyes the same shade as mine, assessing, perceptive.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
"Mother. Father," I managed, my voice even. "This is… unexpected."
My mother's gaze flicked to Elena. "So it seems."
Elena immediately stood, flustered, clutching the folder to her chest. "I— I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt—"
My father smiled politely, but his tone carried the quiet edge of someone who missed nothing. "No interruption, my dear. And you are?"
"Elena Dorne," she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves.
The moment the name left her lips, my mother's expression faltered.
Just slightly — a flicker, a breath, but I caught it.
"Dorne?" she repeated. "As in—"
"Mother," I cut in quickly, rising from my chair. "Elena is one of my department heads. She was just dropping off documents."
My mother's eyes moved from Elena to me, and something shifted behind them — understanding, disbelief, and something dangerously close to recognition.
"I see," she said carefully. "How… interesting."
Elena looked between us, confusion clear in her features. "Mr. Ashford, if you could just sign—"
"Yes, of course." I signed the papers swiftly, keeping my voice calm. "Thank you, Miss Dorne."
She nodded, visibly eager to escape the tension she didn't understand. "Thank you, sir."
As she turned to leave, I caught her hand for the briefest moment — a silent promise, a grounding touch. She met my eyes, searching, and I gave the smallest reassuring nod.
"You did great," I murmured softly.
Her lips curved in a faint, grateful smile before she slipped out the door.
The moment it clicked shut, the room changed.
My mother exhaled slowly, her composure breaking just enough for emotion to show. "James," she said quietly. "That girl—"
"I know," I said before she could finish.
My father stepped forward, voice low, serious. "You know who she is?"
"I know what she is."
My mother exchanged a look with him, then turned back to me. "James… she's a Dorne. Her parents—"
"I know what happened to them," I said evenly. "Lucian found the records."
My father's eyes darkened. "Then you also know they were murdered for what they were."
I met his gaze without flinching. "And you know I can't let that happen again."
Silence.
My mother's eyes softened. "You've found your mate."
It wasn't a question.
I swallowed hard. "Yes."
Her hand went to her chest, a quiet, pained breath escaping. "Oh, James…"
My father's expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then, quietly, "You know what this means."
"I do."
"It's not just about the bond," he said. "It's about blood. The prophecy, the old lines — everything the Dornes and Ashfords once stood for."
I nodded once, slow. "I know exactly what it means."
My father studied me. "Then you also know the danger. If the Council finds out before she's ready—"
"I'll handle it," I cut in. "No one touches her."
He sighed, the sound old and weary. "You sound like I did when I met your mother."
My mother's lips curved, bittersweet. "And look where that got us — running two realms at once."
That earned the faintest smile from me.
My father's tone softened. "Be careful, son. The fates may have chosen her, but it's your choice that will protect her."
"I know." I exhaled slowly, glancing toward the door where she'd just been. "She has no idea who she is. Or what she's walking into. But I won't let her face it alone."
My mother watched me for a long time, her eyes full of something deep and knowing. "You're your father's son," she murmured. "But your heart is mine. Don't let either one destroy the other."
When they left, the silence felt heavier than before.
I turned back toward the window, watching the faint reflection of the city — the glass towers, the rain-slicked streets, the world of humans that would never understand what existed among them.
Somewhere down there, Elena was working, unaware of the legacy written in her blood — unaware that fate had already bound her to a war she didn't yet see.
And for the first time in my life, I was terrified.
Because love, I realized, wasn't the danger.
Destiny was.