Darius's POV

"We should have torn their throats out while we had the chance."

Ronan's voice carried the barely controlled rage that had been simmering in him since our retreat from the warehouse. He paced the length of the Black Howl's war room like a caged animal, his massive frame radiating the kind of violence that made even our own pack members step carefully around him.

I didn't look up from the map spread across the table, though every instinct screamed at me to put my enforcer in his place. The red pins marking Steel Vultures territory seemed to mock me, such a small area to hold so much of what I wanted.

"Sit down, Ronan," I said quietly.

"Alpha, we had them. Thirty of our best against a handful of humans, and we let them slip through our fingers because…"

"Because I said sit down." The alpha command rolled out of me like thunder, and Ronan's legs buckled before he caught himself against a chair. His eyes flashed with resentment, but he obeyed.

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Around the table, the other lieutenants kept their faces carefully neutral, though I could smell their unease. They'd all seen what happened at the warehouse, how the human bikers had outmaneuvered us with help from another MC, how they'd extracted Kiera and my son while we were distracted by the frontal assault.

It had been expertly done. It had also been humiliating.

"The question," Lucien said from his seat at my right hand, "is what we do next."

My younger brother looked nothing like the rest of the pack leadership, lean where they were broad, calm where they seethed with barely contained aggression. His wolf was smaller than mine, but his mind was razor-sharp, always three moves ahead in any confrontation.

"We hunt them down," Ronan snarled, still smarting from my rebuke. "Track them to whatever hole they're hiding in and finish this."

"And accomplish what, exactly?" Lucien's voice was silk over steel. "We've already established that these humans are more resourceful than expected. A direct assault clearly isn't working."

"Then we make it work." Ronan's scarred hands clenched into fists on the table. "We bring more wolves. We burn their clubhouse to the ground. We make an example that'll have every human MC from here to the coast pissing themselves."

"And risk exposure?" Lucien raised an eyebrow. "Bring the hunters down on all our heads? The Council wouldn't be pleased."

The Council. Three words that made every wolf in the room tense. The governing body that kept supernatural conflicts from spilling into human awareness had very specific rules about pack wars, especially ones that involved non-supernatural participants.

"The Council doesn't need to know," Ronan said, but there was less conviction in his voice now.

"The Council knows everything," I said flatly. "And they've already sent messages asking about our... activities in human territory."

That was putting it mildly. The formal inquiry had arrived this morning, couched in diplomatic language but clear in its implications. The Black Howl was operating outside traditional pack boundaries, engaging with human criminal organizations, and generally making the kind of noise that drew unwanted attention.

All for a woman who'd chosen to run rather than stay and fight for her place.

My wolf snarled at the thought, pawing restlessly in my chest. She was ours. Had always been ours. The fact that she'd bonded with humans, had built a life without us, was an insult that cut deeper than any physical wound.

"So what do you suggest?" I asked Lucien, though I suspected I already knew his answer.

"We step back. Let her go." He spread his hands, the picture of reasonableness. "She's made her choice, brother. It's time to accept that."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Every wolf present had gone still, waiting to see how I'd respond to what could only be interpreted as a challenge to my authority.

"Let her go," I repeated softly.

"She's been gone for five years," Lucien continued, apparently oblivious to the danger he was courting. "She's built a new life, found a new family. Maybe the kindest thing…"

"She's Luna." The words came out as a growl. "She carries my mark. She bore my child. She belongs to this pack."

"Does she?" Lucien leaned forward, his pale eyes intent. "Or does she belong to herself?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge. Around the table, I could see the pack weighing his words, and smell the uncertainty that none of them would dare voice aloud.

Because the truth was, Lucien wasn't wrong. Kiera had made her position clear. She wanted nothing to do with me, the pack, and the life we'd planned together. She'd rather live as an outlaw among humans than return to what she'd once called home.

The knowledge burned like acid in my chest.

"She's confused," I said finally. "Hurt. She'll come around once she realizes she can't keep running forever."

"And if she doesn't?" Lucien pressed. "How long are we supposed to chase her? How many resources are we willing to spend? How many laws are we willing to break?"

"As long as it takes." The words came out harder than I'd intended. "Whatever it takes."

My brother sat back, something that might have been pity flickering across his features. "This isn't about the pack. It's about your wounded pride."

The accusation hit like a physical blow. Several of the lieutenants drew sharp breaths, waiting for the explosion they were sure would follow. Challenging an alpha's motives was one step away from challenging his fitness to lead.

But the explosion didn't come. Instead, I found myself thinking about the moment in the Steel Vultures clubhouse when I'd seen my son for the first time. The way he'd looked at me with Kiera's stubborn chin and my own dark eyes, completely unafraid. The casual way he'd dismissed me as just another stranger passing through his life.

"He doesn't know me," I said quietly.

The admission hung in the silence like a confession. My son… my heir… had lived his entire life without knowing his father existed. Had been raised by humans, taught human values, shaped by human experiences.

"That can be fixed," Ronan said gruffly. "Once we get them back…"

"I guess but…" I looked up from the map, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "He's just four years old. He's spent his entire life thinking I abandoned him. Thinking I didn't want him."

"Because she poisoned him against you," Ronan insisted. "Filled his head with lies."

"What does that mean?" The question came out sharper than I'd intended. "Or did she tell him the truth… that I chose another woman's child over the one she carried?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Because that was the heart of it. The thing none of us wanted to acknowledge. I had chosen Sarah's pregnancy over Kiera's potential. Had prioritized the certainty of an heir over the woman I claimed to love.

The fact that Kiera had been pregnant all along, had been carrying my true heir while I planned a future with a surrogate, was an irony so bitter it left scars.

"The past is past," Lucien said gently. "The question is what we do now."

I stared down at the red pins on the map, each one marking a piece of the life Kiera had built without me. The Steel Vultures clubhouse. The school where my son was learning to read. The mechanics shop where she'd earned her colors, where she'd become someone other than the Luna I remembered.

She'd found happiness without us. Without me.

The knowledge was a knife between my ribs, but it was also strangely liberating. Because it meant this wasn't about what was best for the pack, or what tradition demanded, or what the Council expected.

This was about me. About the hole her leaving had torn in my chest, the nights I'd lain awake wondering if things could have been different, and the son I'd never held, sung to sleep, taught to shift under the full moon.

"We're not letting this go," I said finally.

Lucien sighed. "Brother…"

"I'm not asking for your approval." I looked up, meeting his gaze directly. "I'm telling you how this is going to be. We find them, bring them home. And we do whatever it takes to make that happen."

"Even if it means war with every human MC from here to the coast?" Ronan asked, but there was anticipation in his voice now rather than frustration.

"Even then."

"Even if it means challenging the Council's authority?"

I thought about the formal inquiry sitting on my desk, the subtle threats wrapped in diplomatic language, about the consequences of defying supernatural law.

Then I thought about my son's face, the way he'd looked at me like I was nothing.

"Even then," I said.

The room erupted in discussion, strategies and concerns, logistics and legal implications. But I wasn't really listening. Instead, I found myself thinking about the warehouse, the moment when I'd realized Kiera was gone again.

The rage had been overwhelming, yes. But underneath it, buried so deep I'd almost missed it, had been something else.

Relief.

Because as long as she kept running, I didn't have to face the possibility that she might never forgive me. As long as the chase continued, I could tell myself that reconciliation was just one capture away.

But what if it wasn't? What if bringing her back only confirmed what I'd been afraid to acknowledge?

What if the woman I loved was truly, irreversibly gone, and the person she'd become would never be mine again?

I pushed the thought away and focused on the map. The hunt would continue. It had to.

Because the alternative, accepting that I'd lost them both forever, was unthinkable.

Even if it was probably true.