The Cursed Alpha's Fifth Luna

Jonathan looked up so quickly that surprise flashed openly across his face. His brows drew together. For a moment he simply stared at her, as though he couldn’t remember the last time she’d called him that. He glanced instinctively toward Marjorie.

She looked just as surprised.

Without waiting for either of them to answer, Nina turned away. "Please come with me."

Moreen immediately fell into step behind her.

...

The corridors of the Pack House were quiet. Their footsteps echoed softly across the polished stone floor. Nina kept her eyes forward. She didn’t slow. She didn’t look back.

After several moments, another pair of footsteps joined theirs. Her father’s.

The sound stirred memories she wished had stayed buried. As a little girl, she’d always recognized those footsteps. She used to run toward them whenever he returned home. But he’d never looked at her; he’d lift Sabrina into his arms and walk past her like she didn’t exist.

Her hands slowly curled into fists at her sides. Turning a corner, she reached a pair of carved double doors and pushed them open.

The room beyond was warm despite the cold weather outside. A fire crackled quietly in the hearth. She stepped inside before moving aside.

"Please." She gestured toward the chairs. "Come in."

Jonathan entered cautiously.

"Moreen. Bring us some hot tea. The weather is cold."

"At once, Your Grace." Moreen bowed before quietly slipping outside, closing the doors behind her.

Silence immediately settled over the room. Nina crossed toward the tall windows overlooking the Pack grounds. She unlatched one. Cold air drifted inside, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. The breeze cooled her flushed cheeks.

Only then did she turn around. Jonathan was still standing where she’d left him. Uncertain.

She blinked. "Father..." Her voice remained calm. "Please sit."

"Nina..." He took one hesitant step toward her.

She smiled. It was small. Tired. It never reached her eyes. "Please save it."

He stopped.

She held his gaze for a second, then she continued. "Whatever you have to say..." Her voice softened, though not with kindness. "...you’re saying it because I didn’t die."

The words landed heavily between them. Jonathan lowered his head. His jaw tightened. For several long moments he couldn’t find his voice.

When he finally spoke, it came out rough. "I know you don’t want to listen to me..." He swallowed. "But I am very sorry." He lifted his eyes. "Please forgive me."

Another painful pause followed.

"Sabrina did nothing wrong."

Nina stared at him, and her gaze slowly darkened.

He took another cautious step closer. "If someone must be punished... Punish me instead."

For a heartbeat, Nina couldn’t speak. Her lips parted. Her eyes widened in disbelief. It felt as though every word he’d just spoken had struck her harder than any slap.

"Father..." Her voice trembled. She searched his face, hoping—desperately hoping—that she’d misunderstood. "Sabrina suggested we switch places."

The memory tightened painfully around her chest.

"She knew I was going to die, and she still suggested it." Her throat burned. Nina laughed dryly, looking away from him as she covered her lips with her hands in disbelief. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

When she looked back at him, her gaze was dark with rage. "How..." She drew a shaky breath. "...how can you stand there and tell me she did nothing wrong?"

Nina stared at him for a long moment. Her hands slowly curled into fists at her sides. The sting behind her eyes grew stronger, tears threatening to spill over no matter how desperately she blinked them back. She hated herself for it.

After everything he had done... After every year she had spent convincing herself she no longer needed him... Even when she knew he’d been the one to send her to her death. He only needed to say a word and she would not have been sent to die, but he didn’t. He sent her to die.

She knew that, and yet... She was here, like a stupid little girl, craving the love of a father she would never have.

Nina drew a slow breath and quickly turned away before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes.

"I didn’t ask to see you to listen to you beg to save your precious daughter," she spat angrily. "Please, sit."

She walked toward one of the couches, each step measured, refusing to let even the slightest crack show in her composure. Lowering herself onto the cushion, she folded her hands neatly in her lap and fixed her gaze on the table before her.

Jonathan remained where he was. She could feel his eyes on her.

The silence stretched. Then she heard his footsteps, one after another, until he reached the armchair opposite her. The chair creaked softly as he sat down.

Just then, the doors opened.

Moreen entered carrying a silver tray with two steaming cups of tea. The rich aroma drifted through the room, cutting through the cold that had settled between father and daughter. She walked over to Nina first, placing one cup carefully before her before crossing to Jonathan and setting the second on the table beside him.

"Your Grace." She bowed respectfully.

Nina acknowledged her with a slight nod. Moreen quietly excused herself, closing the doors behind her. The soft click echoed through the room.

Silence settled over them once again.

Nina wrapped both hands around the warm porcelain cup. The heat seeped into her palms, offering a comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. She lifted the tea to her lips and took a slow sip, welcoming the warmth as it slid down her throat.

"Have some tea. The weather is rather cold."

Jonathan’s gaze shifted toward the untouched cup. He looked at it for a long moment. His fingers twitched once against the armrest before becoming still again. He didn’t touch it.

Nina smiled faintly. It wasn’t amusement. She set her cup back onto the saucer.

"I have something important to ask you."

Jonathan finally looked up at her words.

"It is about my mother."