I stood there, torn between instinct and emotion, my chest tight as I watched my father struggle to steady himself. Seeing him like this—his strength cracking, his pride pushed to the edge—made something inside me ache.
How could I let him bow his head?
How could I stand by and watch him beg another Alpha for mercy?
If anyone had to lower themselves, it should be me.
Even if it meant tearing apart the last shreds of my pride, it was still better than watching him lose his.
But the conflict inside me was suffocating. I had already refused Elliot's compensation. I had drawn a clear line between us, choosing distance over dependence. And now, I was being forced to cross that same line with my own hands.
The thought alone made my chest feel heavy.
Yet when I remembered the look on Lawrence's face—the arrogance, the certainty that he would take everything—it became clear. If that man took control of our territory, my father would never find peace again.
He wouldn't survive it.
