Chapter 79: I told you so 2

Chapter 79 Lenora The rabbit darts through the underbrush, its tiny legs pumping, ears twitching with every bound. I push harder, my wolf muscles surging with speed, teeth bared in triumph. You won’t escape me. I’m about to lunge when— It’s gone. I skid to a halt, dirt spraying under my paws. My bunny, my victory prize, is cradled in someone’s arms. Blinking, I realize I’m no longer in wolf form. My body is clothed—simple shorts and a t-shirt—despite the shift. This isn’t real. This is a dream. And the thief holding my bunny? My father. "Shouldn’t you be in the afterlife?" I fold my arms, unimpressed. "Oh, the afterlife is going great," he answers casually, petting the rabbit. "I see you haven’t outgrown those bunny-chasing dreams." "You’re lucky you found me in a bunny dream," I deadpan. He shudders dramatically. "I went to visit Cameron earlier, and let’s just say... I’d have lived happily never knowing about some of his preferences ." "That’s what you get for showing up unannounced," I shoot back. "What are you doing here?" "Can’t a father visit his daughter?" He drifts closer, circling me like he always used to. "I thought you were always with me—in my heart," I say, walking away. "Clearly, you’ve moved on from your grief pretty easily." His words land heavy, but before I can respond, the dream twists. The rabbit is no longer fluffy and alive—it’s skinned, roasting perfectly over a fire. Somehow that makes sense. Dreams never play fair. For example: the nearby tree now looks suspiciously like Ronan. "It’s time to go home, Lenora," my father says suddenly. I flinch. "Alric is running the place into the ground." I stay silent, eyes fixed on the sizzling rabbit. "Snowball," he presses, voice softer, "it’s time. You’re a Maen. It’s in your blood." "Don’t say it," I warn. "Say what?" I glare at him. "I told you so." He says it, before smiling—then the dream cracks like glass, and I wake up. I blink against the early light, peeking one eye open. The bed beside me is empty. Odd. Today’s Saturday. We drove out of town to the house on the outskirts, and yesterday I got to shift and run. Saturdays here usually mean sleeping in until eleven—recovering from the indulgence of the night before. But it’s only 8 AM, and he’s not here. That’s unusual. My first thought is Eamon Maen, though I could be wrong. Which is hopeful thinking, I know. I slip out of bed, wrapping myself in a robe, tying it snug around my waist. The wooden floor is cool under my feet as I pad to the door. And there he is—walking back inside, shirtless, joggers hanging low on his hips, skin damp with sweat. His dark hair sticks slightly to his forehead. Fuck me. "Had something on your mind?" I ask, leaning lazily against the doorframe, doing my best not to gawk too obviously. He’s my mate. Of course I gawk. I don’t even bother hiding it. "Just needed some air," he says. "You preferred air to sleeping in with me?" I arch a brow. *** Cameron I let out a scoff of a laugh. She’s right—there’s nothing I’d ever prefer over being wrapped around her, under her, inside her. That silk robe does nothing to hide the curve of her hips or the slope of her collarbone, and I have to drag my eyes away before I give myself away too easily. "You got me," I admit, raising a hand in surrender as I head toward the kitchen. I pull a chilled bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap and drinking deep. The cool liquid doesn’t settle me as much as I’d hoped. "I needed to think about some things," I say finally. My voice comes out quieter than I intended. "Do said things involve a visit from my dad last night?" she asks. I blink, caught off guard. "Um... yeah." Is this normal? Do wolves really see their dead loved ones? Not grief dreams, but actual encounters? Because the way she asks—so calm, so steady...must be normal. She exhales. "Yeah, he said—" I start. "I know." She cuts me off. She’s standing there with her bedhead sticking up in all directions, a faint line of drool at the corner of her mouth, tear stains still clinging to her cheeks... and somehow she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Gray eyes wide, worried, unwavering. "I don’t know what to make of it," I admit. Without hesitation she comes forward and hugs me. Sweat and all. For a second I freeze, then my arms circle around her instinctively. Was having a different dream before Eamon Maen barged in. Lenora in leather, holding a whip—something out of my subconscious I was really enjoying until her father ruined it by telling me to step up, claim the mantle, become Alpha of White Stone Pack. Sure, I run a billion-dollar empire, but that’s... different. A company can be sold, expanded, folded into another. A pack is blood, bones, legacy. A pack is family—and I’ve never had one. How the hell am I supposed to be father, leader, anchor, when I never had an example? "Hey," Lenora murmurs, pulling back enough to look up at me. "It’s okay." "Any chance you can tell me what to do?" My voice comes out more desperate than I intended. She shakes her head gently. "You know I can’t. It’s your decision." "But what do you want me to do?" I press, hoping she’ll give me something, anything. "Cameron." Just my name, steady as stone. I let out a rough exhale and crush her closer against me, as if holding her tighter might give me the answer I’m missing. "I’ll support whatever decision you make," she whispers into my chest. And gods, she means it. I feel it through the bond—her certainty, her loyalty, her faith in me. Even when I don’t trust myself, she does. I hope I don’t betray that trust.