ZEKE'S POV

Zeke's POV

"What's your favorite meal?" I asked while guiding Cecelia away from the vehicle and back toward the pack house.

She looked at me like I'd spoken in a foreign language while her brow furrowed in confusion. "What does that have to do

with anything?"

"Just answer the question." I kept my hand on the small of her back while steering her through the

entrance and down the hallway toward the private wing where my quarters were located. "Your favorite meal, what is it?"

I saw the exhausted and confused look on her face.

"Marcus needs three hours to set up proper surveillance and you need to eat something since you haven't had a real meal since you arrived. If you don't take care of yourself you won't be any good to Golden when we do find him.

" I pushed open the door to my private quarters and ushered her inside before she could protest. "So I'm

asking again, what's your favorite meal?"

She stood in the middle of my living room looking lost. Her eyes darted around taking in the space that used to be hers too before everything fell apart. "Mushroom risotto," she finally said so quietly, I almost didn't hear her. "With garlic bread and that specific way you used to make the sauce with white wine and parmesan."

Something warm bloomed in my chest because she remembered that I used to cook for her during the early days of our marriage. "Sit

down," I told her while pointing to the couch. "I'll make it for you."

"You don't have to do that." She twisted her hands nervously. "I'm not even hungry."

"Your body needs fuel whether you feel hungry or not because stress suppresses appetite and depletes energy faster than normal activity."

I moved toward the kitchen area while pulling out my phone to check what ingredients I had available. "Besides, cooking will give me something to do with my hands for the next three hours instead of pacing to and fro."

Cecelia watched me for a moment longer before finally sinking onto the couch. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them while staring at nothing in particular.

I moved through the kitchen gathering what I needed while keeping one eye on her through the open archway that connected the spaces. The bond between us pulsed with her exhaustion and fear while I started chopping mushrooms with more force than necessary.

"When did you learn to cook?" she

asked suddenly while her voice drifted from the living room. "You could barely boil water when we first got married."

"I had a lot of time on my hands after you left,

" I said while sweeping the chopped mushrooms into a bowl. "Cooking gave me something to focus on that wasn't thinking about how badly I'd messed everything up."

She didn't respond to that but I felt something shift through the bond, a flicker of surprise mixed with something I couldn't quite identify. I started the risotto base with butter

and onions while the familiar motions helped settle some of the restless energy thrumming through my system.

The kitchen filled with the smell of cooking onions and garlic while I added the rice and let it toast before starting to add the stock one ladle at a time. This had always been the meditative part, the constant stirring and gradual addition of liquid that required just enough attention to quiet an overactive mind.

"I used to dream about this," Cecelia said after several minutes of

silence. "Not the risotto specifically but just having you cook for me again like you did during those first few months before everything went wrong."

My hand stilled on the spoon while her words hit harder than they should have. "I'm sorry," I said without turning around because if I looked at her right now I might say something we weren't ready for yet. "I'm sorry I stopped doing the small things that made you ."

"You were fucking Layla," she said flatly though I could hear the old hurt beneath the words.

I added another ladle of stock while my throat went tight because she wasn't wrong about any of it. "I was an idiot. " I said while focusing on stirring so I didn't have to see her face. "...but what we have..."

"Past tense," Cecelia said quietly. "What we had, not what we have."

"Is it past tense?" I finally turned to look at her while the risotto bubbled gently behind me. "Because from where I'm standing it feels very present tense with how the bond keeps pulling us together. We try to pretend that it does not exist but it's there Cecelia."

She uncurled from her position on the couch and stood up while moving toward the kitchen with an expression I couldn't read. "The bond might be there but that doesn't erase three years of pain or change the fact that you chose someone

else over me even after we were married."

"I know that." I turned back to the risotto and added the mushrooms . "I know I can't undo what I did or take back the words I said when I ended things but I need you to understand that letting you go was the biggest mistake I ever made."

"You keep saying that but what does it actually mean?" She leaned against the counter beside the stove while close enough that I could feel her body heat. "Are you saying you want to try again or are you just feeling guilty because of

Golden?"

The question hung between us while I added wine to the risotto and watched it sizzle. "I'm saying I never stopped loving you even when I was too stupid to admit it to myself," I said. "I'm saying these past three years without you have been the worst of my life and

having you back here even under these circumstances has made me realize how empty everything was before."

"That's not fair." Her voice shook while she wrapped her arms around herself.

"You can't say things like that when I'm barely holding myself together worrying about our son."

"I know the timing is terrible but I can't keep pretending I don't feel what I feel." I added the final ladle of stock while the risotto reached that perfect creamy consistency.

"You asked what it means and I'm trying to be honest instead of

hiding behind duty or obligation or any of the other excuses I used three years ago."

She was quiet while I stirred in the parmesan and butter to finish the dish before turning off the heat. The silence stretched between us heavy with everything unsaid while I plated the risotto and pulled the garlic bread from where it had been warming in the oven.

"Come eat," I said while carrying the plates to the small dining table near the window.

Cecelia followed slowly while

sitting down across from me with her eyes fixed on the food like she couldn't quite believe I'd actually made it. She picked up her fork and took a small bite while her eyes closed briefly.

"It tastes exactly like I remembered," she said after swallowing. "How did you manage that?"

"I might have made it a few dozen times over the past three years trying to get it right." I took a bite of my own food while

watching her face for reactions. "It was the only way I could feel close to you when

everything else reminded me you were gone."

She set down her fork while staring at me with an expression of disbelief. "Why are you telling me all this now?"

"I almost lost you permanently. I thought you were dead. It made me realize I can't waste any more time being too proud or too scared to admit how I feel." I reached across the table and covered her hand with mine while the bond

flared hot between us. "I love you Cecelia and I never stopped loving you."

Layla's POV

I stood outside Zeke's office three years ago, pounding on the door until my knuckles turned red while tears streamed down my face in what I hoped looked like genuine grief. "Zeke, please," I called through the wood while making my voice shake just right. "We need to grieve together, please let me in."

No response came from inside, though I could hear him moving around in there, which meant he was alive at least. Part of me had

worried he might actually hurt himself over Cecelia's death, which would ruin everything I'd worked so hard to accomplish.

"Alpha, please," I tried again while pressing my forehead against the door. "I need you right now, we both loved her, and we need each other to get through this."

Still nothing, while I felt my patience wearing thin because playing the concerned friend was exhausting when what I really wanted to do was celebrate.

Cecelia was finally gone, which meant Zeke was free, and I could have what should have

been mine from the beginning.

I heard footsteps approaching from down the hallway, so I made sure to look appropriately devastated when Marcus appeared with a crowbar in his hands. "He won't answer?" Marcus asked while his face showed real concern, unlike my

fake version.

"He hasn't said a word in two days," I said while wiping at my tears. "I'm worried about him, Marcus. What if he does something we can't fix?"

Marcus moved past me to examine the door while testing the lock.

"Step back," he ordered before wedging the crowbar into the frame. The wood splintered with a loud crack while the door swung open to reveal Zeke sitting behind his desk, looking like he hadn't slept or eaten since hearing the news.

I started to move forward, but Zeke's voice stopped me cold. "Get out, Layla."

"What?" I froze in the doorway while genuine shock replaced my fake tears. "Zeke, I just want to help you through this."

"I said get out." His voice came out

flat and dead while he stared at his desk instead of looking at me. "I can't stand to look at you right now, knowing that choosing you over her drove Cecelia away

in the first place."

The words hit me like a physical blow while Marcus shifted uncomfortably beside the broken door.

"Alpha, maybe you should reconsider because Layla cares about you, and shutting people out won't help anyone."

"I don't care what will help," Zeke said while finally looking up at us with eyes that looked completely

empty. "I want to be alone, and I want Layla to leave because seeing her face reminds me of every mistake I made that led to Cecelia being dead."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Marcus grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the hallway. "Give him space," he said quietly while guiding me away from the office. "He's not thinking clearly right now, and pushing him will only make things worse."

I let Marcus lead me down the hall while my mind raced because this wasn't how things were supposed

to go. Zeke was supposed to turn to me for comfort while we grieved together, and that grief would eventually turn into something else that would finally make us official mates like we should have been all along.

Instead, he'd looked at me like I was the cause of all his problems, which technically I was, but he wasn't supposed to realize that part.

I went back to my quarters while slamming the door hard enough to make the frame shake. My reflection in the mirror showed tear-streaked makeup and red eyes

that came from actual frustration instead of fake sadness. Three years of waiting for Cecelia to be gone, and now that she finally was, Zeke wanted nothing to do with me.

My hand moved to my stomach, which had just started showing the smallest bump beneath my loose shirt. The pregnancy test I'd taken two weeks ago had shown positive,

which should have been perfect timing except for one major problem that made my blood run cold every time I thought about it.

The baby wasn't Zeke's.

I sank onto my bed while panic clawed at my throat because I'd been so careful about timing everything perfectly. The night I'd slept with Zeke had been planned down to the

minute while I'd made sure we were both drunk enough that he wouldn't question it later. But that had been three months ago, and I'd gotten my period two weeks after, which meant the pregnancy couldn't be from him.

The real father was Derek, one of the guards who worked night shifts and had caught me in a weak moment four weeks ago when I'd

been frustrated about Zeke still refusing to see me as more than a friend. We'd hooked up once in a storage room, and I'd thought nothing of it because I was careful about

protection, except apparently not careful enough.

Derek had fled the territory two days after I'd told him about the pregnancy while taking nothing but a backpack and

whatever cash he had saved. Smart man, while I wished I could run away from this mess too,

but I was stuck here trying to figure out how to convince everyone, including Zeke, that this

baby was his.

A sharp pain stabbed through my lower abdomen while I doubled over on the bed, gasping. Something felt wrong while warmth spread between my legs that shouldn't be

there. I managed to stumble to the bathroom before looking down to see blood soaking through my pants.

"No, no, no," I whispered while more pain ripped through me. The baby couldn't survive if I was bleeding this much,

which meant all my careful planning had been for nothing.

I don't know how long I sat on the bathroom floor bleeding while the reality of what was happening slowly sank in.

The baby was gone, which solved my paternity problem but created a whole new issue because I'd already started telling people I was pregnant, and now I'd have to explain why I wasn't anymore.

The pack doctor found me there an hour later after I'd finally called for help. She took one look at the situation and called for assistance while her face stayed carefully neutral. "How far along were you?"

she asked while helping me onto a stretcher.

"About six weeks," I lied while knowing it was actually closer to four. "Is the baby okay?"

Her expression told me everything I needed to know before she even spoke. "I'm sorry, Layla, but you've had a complete miscarriage, and there's nothing we can do to save the pregnancy at this stage."

I let tears fall while these ones were actually real because even though the baby had been a problem, it had also been my ticket to having Zeke

permanently. Now that ticket was gone, and I was back to square one with an Alpha who couldn't even stand to look at me.

chapter 31

Layla's POV

The pack doctor sedated me while I drifted in and out of consciousness for the next day. When I finally woke up properly, the doctor was there with a clipboard checking my vitals. "How are you feeling?" she asked while her tone stayed professional.

"Empty," I said honestly while one hand moved to my now flat stomach. "Did anyone tell Zeke?"

"He knows you're in the medical wing, but he hasn't come to visit yet," she said carefully while

avoiding my eyes. "He's still processing Cecelia's death and probably doesn't have the emotional capacity to deal with anything else right now."

Translation: he didn't care enough about me or the baby to even check if I was okay. The knowledge burned worse than the physical pain while I turned my face toward the wall so the doctor wouldn't see how much that hurt.

"The father," the doctor said quietly while moving closer to my bed. "Derek, I assume, based on the timeline and some things the other

guards mentioned about you two."

My blood went cold while I turned back to look at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Layla, I'm not stupid, and I'm not blind," she said while setting down her clipboard. "The timeline doesn't match up with when you could have conceived with Zeke, and Derek disappeared right after you found out you were pregnant, which tells me everything I need to know."

"You can't tell anyone," I said while panic made my voice sharp. "If Zeke finds out the baby wasn't his,

it will ruin everything."

"The baby is gone, so there's nothing to tell," she pointed out while her expression stayed neutral. "But if you get pregnant again, I strongly suggest you be honest about paternity

because lying about something like that never ends well."

She left while I stared at the ceiling trying to figure out my next move. The doctor was right that the miscarriage had

eliminated my immediate problem, but it also meant I'd lost my best chance at securing my place with Zeke

permanently

One year later, I found myself in almost the exact same situation, except this time I was smarter about it. The father was a pack member named Robert, who I'd been seeing casually for a few months while making sure Zeke never found out. When the pregnancy test came back positive, I'd already worked out my entire story.

I would tell everyone the baby came early, even though he was actually right on time, which would make the timeline work for Zeke being the

father. Robert had already agreed to keep quiet in exchange for a generous payment and a transfer to a territory three states away where no one would ask questions.

Cameron was born healthy and screaming while I held him and felt actual love for the first time in years. He had dark hair like me and Zeke, which made the lie easier, while his eyes were blue like Robert's, but babies' eyes changed color all the time, so no one questioned it.

"He's beautiful," the pack doctor said while the same woman who'd

delivered my miscarriage news helped clean up the baby. Her eyes met mine over Cameron's head with a look that said she knew exactly what I was doing but wouldn't say anything.

"Thank you," I said while holding my son closer. "Does Zeke know?"

"He's waiting outside," she confirmed while wrapping Cameron in a soft blanket. "He wanted to be here for the birth, but you said you preferred privacy."

Which was true because I couldn't risk Zeke noticing that Cameron

came out looking way too developed for a supposedly premature baby. "Send him in now," I said while arranging myself to look appropriately exhausted.

Zeke entered slowly while his face showed concern but not the joy I'd hoped to see. He looked at Cameron with interest but not the overwhelming love a father should feel for his newborn son, which told me he suspected something even if he couldn't prove it.

"He's healthy?" Zeke asked while staying near the door instead of coming closer.

"Perfectly healthy, despite coming early," I said while the lie tasted bitter. "Don't you want to hold him?"

Zeke moved forward reluctantly while taking Cameron from my arms with the careful grip of someone who had no idea what to do with babies. He studied Cameron's face for a long moment while I held my breath, waiting for him to say

something about how the baby didn't look premature, or how the features didn't match, or anything that would expose my lie.

"He's beautiful," Zeke finally said while handing Cameron back to me

quickly. "I'm glad you're both okay, but I should let you rest."

He left before I could respond while the door closed behind him with a soft click. I looked down at Cameron, who was already starting to fuss while tears burned in my eyes

because this wasn't how it was supposed to be either.

Three years later, in present day, I sat in my quarters reviewing medical files I'd stolen from the pack doctor's

office. The records from Cameron's birth showed his actual gestational age, which proved he hadn't been premature at

all. If anyone compared these records with the timeline of when I'd supposedly gotten pregnant with Zeke, it would be obvious the baby couldn't be his.

I pulled out my lighter while holding the papers over my trash can. The flame caught quickly while I watched years of evidence turn to ash. The pack doctor who delivered

Cameron had retired six months ago, which was convenient timing, while I'd already paid her generously to forget anything suspicious about that birth.

My phone buzzed with a text from

Marcus saying Zeke wanted everyone at the pack house for dinner tonight, including Cameron. I stared at the message while dread settled in my stomach because family dinners always made me nervous with how closely Zeke watched

Cameron, looking for similarities that didn't exist.

I dressed carefully that evening while making sure Cameron looked presentable in clean clothes with his hair combed neatly. He bounced excitedly beside me on the walk to the main dining room because he loved these dinners even though

they made me want to throw up from stress.

Zeke was already there when we arrived, along with Marcus and several other high-ranking pack members. Cecelia sat beside Zeke, which made my jaw clench because she was supposed to be dead, but instead she was here taking my place like she'd never left.

"Layla, Cameron, glad you could make it," Zeke said while gesturing to empty seats across from him. His tone was polite but cold, while there was none of the warmth he used to have when looking at me

years ago.

We sat down while Cameron immediately started chattering about his day at school. I tried to follow the conversation while keeping one eye on Zeke's face,

watching for any signs that he suspected the truth about Cameron's paternity.

"And then my special uncle brought me candy," Cameron said excitedly while reaching for his juice. "He always brings the best treats when he visits."

The entire table went silent while

Zeke's expression shifted from polite interest to sharp focus. "What uncle?" he asked while his voice dropped into that Alpha tone that demanded answers.

My heart stopped while my hand froze halfway to my water glass. Cameron looked confused by the sudden attention while glancing between Zeke and me like he didn't understand what he'd said wrong.

"Cameron, sweetie, why don't you tell everyone about your art project," I said quickly while trying to redirect the conversation away from dangerous territory.

"No, I want to hear about this uncle," Zeke said while his eyes never left Cameron's face. "What's his name, buddy?"

Cameron squirmed in his seat.