The Alpha Mate

Chapter 54

[POV: Evan]

Dinner with Dominic's parents had always been a stiff, formal affair—an exhausting tradition I tolerated out of obligation, not enjoyment. The kind of evening where every word was weighed, every gesture calculated. Tonight was no different.

We sat around the long polished dining table in Julius and Minerva's manor, the place reeking of power, pride, and polished lies. Crystal chandeliers cast cold light across expensive china, and servants moved silently between courses, their eyes carefully averted, trained never to witness what happened at this table.

"As always," Julius was saying, raising his glass of imported wine, "we are immensely proud of our Dominic. The council was thoroughly impressed by his most recent report on pack strategy. They said it had the precision of a seasoned Alpha."

Dominic offered a practiced smile, tilting his head slightly in that perfectly calculated gesture of humility. "Thank you, Father."

Minerva nodded, dabbing her mouth with her napkin even though she hadn't taken a single bite of the elaborate meal before her.

"We expect nothing less, of course. You've always been the one meant to lead. And soon, with the mating ceremony—"

I tuned them out for a moment, eyes drifting to my barely-touched plate. The food was exquisite, I'm sure, but it might as well have been ash in my mouth.

The words blurred into a dull hum. I knew this script by now—how flawless Dominic was, how brilliant, how destined for greatness. How honored I should be to stand beside him. As if I hadn't heard it all a hundred times before, in a hundred different variations.

Then Julius turned to me, his sharp gaze piercing through the pleasantries. "And Evan," he said, tone shifting from indulgent to conspiratorial, leaning forward slightly. "We've heard some wonderful news."

I looked up slowly, a warning already flaring in my gut like a spark catching kindling. Julius smiled, and it wasn't warm.

"That you've found our ungrateful older son. Atlas." My stomach dropped. The world tilted on its axis.

"He's still alive," he went on, as if I'd delivered the news myself, as if this was cause for celebration. "And you've been making excellent progress in… what did Dominic call it? Softening him. Earning his trust. Preparing to bring him back where he truly belongs."

The room spun. My fingers tightened around my fork until my knuckles went white, jaw locked in stunned silence. The metal bit into my palm.

I hadn't said a word to them. Not about the meeting. Not about the clearing. Not about Atlas. And I sure as hell wasn't "preparing" to bring him back.

This was Dominic. His twisting hands all over the truth, manipulating it like clay. Bending it until it served him, until it made him look like the perfect son again—seamlessly orchestrating the family reunion, playing the dutiful child who cared about his lost brother.

My pulse thundered in my ears, but I forced myself to remain still. Controlled. Calculated. I couldn't let them see the fury building inside me.

Minerva leaned forward now, her expression sharp with interest, predatory. "Where exactly did you spot him?" she asked, voice clipped and precise. "And when do you think you'll be able to bring him home?"

Home. The word felt like bile in my throat, bitter and burning. They had no idea what they were asking.

They hadn't seen Atlas after he ran. Hadn't seen the way his shoulders hunched under years of their abuse, the way he flinched at raised voices. Or the fire that burned behind his eyes now that he was free.

Free of them. Free of this suffocating place with its rules and expectations and cruelty. And they wanted to drag him back into it like he was some stray they could collar and chain.

I wanted to scream. To flip the table. To tell them exactly what I thought of their plans, their control, their treatment of Atlas. But I didn't.

Instead, I forced myself to smile, the expression feeling foreign on my face, muscles straining with the effort. "It's complicated."

Julius raised an eyebrow, fingers drumming once against the table. "How so?" I took a sip of wine to give myself a few seconds to think, to formulate an answer that wouldn't give away too much.

"He's… not alone," I said slowly, choosing each word with care, aware of Dominic's eyes on me. "He's part of a new pack now. Crimson Fang."

That silenced them. For a beat, neither parent spoke, the shock evident on their carefully maintained expressions. I could see the wheels turning in their minds, calculating what this meant.

Dominic's lips twitched just slightly—no doubt delighted to see the shock ripple across their perfect dinner, to watch his parents struggle for composure.

Minerva recovered first, as she always did. "Well, of course he would go crawling to someone else. He always needed others to fight his battles for him."

"A temporary alliance." Julius grunted, not pleased. "Nothing more. You'll get him out, I'm sure of it. Bring him back before he gets too comfortable. Before he forgets where he belongs."

I set my glass down harder than intended, the crystal ringing against the table. "I don't think you understand," I said quietly, my voice tight. "He's not being held there. He chose it."

Julius waved a dismissive hand, as if Atlas's autonomy meant nothing. "He doesn't know what he's doing. He never did. Always needed guidance."

"He does," I said, sharper now, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Minerva frowned, her painted lips pressing into a thin line. "And what exactly has he been doing in this pack of his?"

Winning. Shifting. Discovering his power. Becoming something more than they ever let him believe he could be.

"He's training," I said instead, keeping my voice level. "He's earned a place. A respected one."

Julius scoffed, the sound dismissive and cruel. "And you still think he's better off out there than with his family?"

"I didn't say that," I lied, the words bitter on my tongue.

Dominic finally spoke, his voice light and sweet as poisoned wine, deceptively gentle. "You did say he was confused, though, didn't you, Evan? That he's scared. That he still doesn't belong."

I stared at him, seeing the calculation in his eyes, the trap he was laying. "Did I?"

He tilted his head, the picture of innocent curiosity. "Didn't you?"

The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on my chest. My thoughts raced, weighing options, calculating risks, trying to find a way out of this trap. I had to lie.

If I told them the truth now—that I wasn't going to bring Atlas back, that I would protect him from them, that I'd realized where my true loyalties lay, that I'd choose him over all of this—everything would crumble.

My position. My access to information. My ability to monitor their plans. My chance to shield Atlas from whatever Dominic and his parents were scheming in the shadows.

So I said nothing. I nodded once, neutral. Let them interpret it however they wanted. And swallowed the taste of betrayal that came with it.