Chapter Twenty-One: Truths Unravelled

Morning sun slipped through Electra's purple curtains, soft rays catching her brown hair sprawled across the pillow—my mate, glowing even in sleep. We hadn't budged from last night, her back pressed to my chest, my arm snug around her waist. Tingles hummed where we touched, warm and steady, her wildflower scent—lavender-edged from her room—filling my lungs. I pulled her closer, burying my face in her neck, lips brushing the spot I'd mark one day. She stirred, a quiet moan slipping out, and my stomach flipped—butterflies, raw and wild, just from that sound.

Her hand lifted, rubbing sleepy eyes. "What time is it?" she murmured, voice husky.

I kissed her neck again, soft and slow, testing but not pushing. "No clue. Didn't wanna let go to check." My wrapped hand flexed against her hip, movable but stiff, the ache dulled by her nearness.

She groaned, reaching for her phone on the nightstand—cluttered with a stuffed wolf and a chipped mug—but I tugged her back, grinning. "Dad'll be up early, wanting us to see him" she said, brow furrowing.

"Just five more minutes," I mumbled, nuzzling deeper, her hair tickling my chin. "I'm still figuring out if this is real." My grip tightened, grounding myself in her warmth.

She rolled over, green eyes meeting mine—soft, then sad. "I was wondering that too." Her gaze dropped to my chest, avoiding me, tears welling. "I don't get why we didn't feel anything."

Her pain stabbed me. I lifted her chin, thumb brushing her cheek. "Don't cry. We've got each other now—that's what counts." I pulled her into my chest, her tears dampening my shirt, desperate to erase her hurt, to shield her forever.

She settled, grip tightening around me. "I'm so glad you're my mate, but... something feels wrong." She looked up, pleading. "Stay near me today when we see my dad?"

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised, thumb tracing her jaw. "Not now, not ever." Leaving her side wasn't an option—wolf and man agreed.

Ten minutes later, she insisted we move. I groaned, rolling off the bed—my leg twinged, nearly healed but tender, scratches faded to pink lines. Mate healing was no joke. Electra padded to her dresser—purple-painted, topped with fairy lights—and pulled out jeans and a green sweater. "Turn around," she said, twirling her finger. I obeyed, facing the wall, mind drifting to her bare skin—then her arm hooked mine, tingles sparking, yanking me to the door before I got lost.

I limped slightly, but the pain was bearable, her touch steadying me. We reached the office—a heavy oak door, carved with pack runes—not long after. She pushed it open, and I sped up, draping an arm over her shoulders. She leaned in, her sigh mirroring mine—content, despite the storm ahead.

Eyes snapped to us—Mr. Harris behind a massive cedar desk littered with maps, his wife at his side, Cade in a chair, Callie perched on his lap. Cade's bandages wrapped his neck, stark white against his beard, his hazel eyes flicking between us, narrowing. A growl rumbled from him, low and feral.

"Cade!" Mr. Harris barked, voice cutting sharp, his grey-white hair glinting under the chandelier's glow.

Cade shot up, Callie sliding off, his growl swelling. "How can they be true mates? You've gotta see through this bullshit!" His voice rasped, but he'd healed fast—alpha blood showing off.

"Sit down!" Mr. Harris stood, towering, his command a wall. Cade dropped back, Callie settling on his lap again, her hand stroking his arm to calm him.

"You two," Mr. Harris pointed at the leather chairs before him, "sit." We did, Electra's knee brushing mine, tingles grounding me. He loomed, arms crossed. "I've been filled in—mostly—and I'll say this: maybe my son wasn't ready to lead after all." His glare pinned Cade, furious.

Cade's jaw dropped. "What? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Quiet," Mr. Harris snapped, voice steel. "Warning your beta—your damn friend—to stay away from your sister? Childish. Threatening to banish him for disobeying? Disgusting." His growl rumbled, deep and old-alpha.

Electra's eyes darted between me and Cade, piecing it together—his rule, my fight. I squeezed her hand, her fingers cold. Mr. Harris stepped closer. "You two—congratulations. Sorry your first day as mates ended like it did." He nodded; I nodded back, jaw tight.

He sank into his chair, cedar creaking. "Now, why you're here. First—Kyan, I get why you challenged Cade. But those death-fight rules? They were abolished a century ago. Modern packs settle rank differently—your win wouldn't have stuck." He sighed, rubbing his temple.

Cade growled; I smirked, smug. Mr. Harris shot him a look. "You need more training, son."

"Second reason," he said, pausing as his wife—Elena, her dark hair streaked grey—laid a hand on his shoulder. He covered it, eyes sad. "Something we should've done ages ago."Elena nodded, voice soft. "The reason you didn't feel the bond on your 'birthday'—" She faltered, glancing at Electra, who stiffened beside me.

"What?" Electra's voice cracked, my arm tightening around her.

"It's clearer if we explain," Elena said, swallowing. "Seventeen years ago, your father and I walked the forest—our land's edge. We found blood—fresh, sharp on the pine air."

Mr. Harris picked up, voice heavy. "We followed it—minutes through brambles—until we saw her. A young woman, gutted, bleeding out on the moss. Barely alive."

Elena's eyes glistened. "She whispered, 'Pack wiped out,' then, 'Cabin to the north.' We buried her in a shallow grave, we had no time to do anymore—then tracked her scent."

"It took an hour," Mr. Harris said, "pine thick, her trail faint. We found the cabin—rotted planks, one room. Inside, a baby—you—wrapped in a blanket on a sagging cot. Nothing else."

"Wait..." Electra breathed, chair creaking as she shifted, stunned.

"The blanket had 'Electra' stitched on it," Elena said, stepping closer, tears falling. "That's all we had—your name."

"So..." Electra's voice shook, eyes wide, "you're saying—"

"You're adopted," Elena finished, soft and final.