Chapter 84

Dominic

I was halfway down the hall when my phone buzzed again. The same number. The same one that had been calling since I left Brightclaw. He was still calling me? I supposed focusing on my unresolved and troubled feeling about him was much easier than thinking of Hazel. I exhaled heavily and answered this time.

“Andrew.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then his voice came, cautious and stiff. “Dominic.”

We hadn’t spoken in years. Not properly. Not since Hazel's death. And what reason did we have to talk? His disappearance after her death had been its own kind of betrayal, though one I’d forced myself not to dwell on. He’d left me to carry it all out of spite. Vivian, the company, the Pack responsibilities, and my grief. And now, suddenly, here he was. This could only end in a few ways, and I wasn't looking forward to even thinking about which way it would end.

“I see your assistant finally let you answer a call,” he said, with a dry edge to his tone.

"My assistant has nothing to do with my personal line."

"Right… still that old man?"

"Yes."

Silence stretched between us. Whether he was expecting me to fill the silence or not, I didn't know, and I didn't care. Once, I might have filled the silence. Once I might have reached for that connection, but it had been years since I'd felt like that. Years since I'd considered him my brother. And that wasn't my fault.

"You're more reticent than I remember."

“I didn't think you remembered anything about me,” I replied, my voice clipped. “Why are you calling?”

“Because I heard what’s happening.”

I frowned. "What exactly did you hear?"

"Let's not play games, 'Nic."

I grimaced. The traitorous bit of warmth that shot through me at the nickname. I knew better. I knew that he was only calling me that now because he wanted something, and yet I couldn't help myself.

"I'll ask again. What exactly did you hear?"

He huffed. "You're worse than he was. Look. Brightclaw's scandal is everywhere. Is it so wrong that I call?"

"You’ll have to be more specific. What exactly are you calling about? Now.”

"You sound like you're in a hurry."

"I have things to do, and you're wasting my time. On purpose, I'm starting to think, but for what reason, I can't fathom."

There was another beat of silence, then a low exhale. “You're still mad."

I clenched my jaw. "What do you want, Andrew?"

"You know why I left.”

“Do I?” I asked. "And is that why you're calling me now?"

"'Nic--"

"Don't," I said, following my driver down to the car. "Don't pretend that you're my brother after all these years."

"You really should get over it. Isn't it normal--"

"I'm not rehashing the past. What do you want?"

He made a sound. “I can see you're still on your fucking high horse. Good to know at least that didn't change while you've got Mountainhowl ready to tear Brightclaw to shreds. Wonder what he would think about it."

"As you said before, it's hardly your business, is it?"

He hissed. "You can't hold that against me. Who the hell wanted to deal with---"

"You don't get to play victim, Andrew," I cut him off. "And I'm not talking about it any further. What are you calling about?"

"… I thought we were family, Dominic."

I snarled. The gate I'd had on my feelings from all those years ago roaring to the surface as I got intot he car.

"You don't get to claim family after what you did, Andrew."

"I---"

"I had made my peace with you leave. With you abandoning us," I bit out, the words sharp and ripping through me. "I made my peace and I might have even understood your position, your hurt, but that doesn't change the fact that you left, wielding your own pain against everyone as you did, and still -- still you don't even have the decency, the sense, the empathy, or the emotional capacity to fucking apologize."

I let out a sharp breath. My eyes burning. My throat tight. I shouldn't have picked up the phone. I shouldn't have hoped or wished for anything from him. Andrew was the kind of person to say what he meant, even in the throes of his own emotional turmoil.

We were never family.

I'm not sticking around to make him look good. I'm not sticking around as some charity case!

I am owed more than this!

I pushed those thoughts away. The memories hit me hard. Andrew was my younger brother. And he had always felt like he should have inherited. The Brightclaw line wasn't one that automatically named the eldest the heir, so he'd always had a chance. But when he first shifted, and it became known that he wasn't even of the Brightclaw line. He'd lost it. And his fury then, at our collective parents, I could have forgiven and looked past and understood. I did understand, and us not having a blood relation had meant nothing to me.

It had meant everything to him.

When he hadn't even bothered to call after the news of Hazel's death, I knew that he'd meant every word he'd said when he left. When he'd stayed away even after so much of the family was killed, I told myself to consider him dead along with them. It was a wound too deep to deal with.

“I didn’t call to argue,” he said, though irritation was starting to seep into his voice. He didn't call to apologize either. “I called because Mountainhowl's legal team will rip you to shreds, and I saw the girl's photo… She looks just like Hazel."

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Of course it is,” Andrew said sharply. “You're clearly not thinking."

I almost laughed. “Don’t lecture me on clarity like you have high ground."

Another pause stretched between us. Then, quieter. “You sound tired.”

“I am tired."

“Then let me help,” he offered, almost reluctantly. “Let me come back. I can assist with whatever needs to be done.”

I narrowed my eyes at the wall ahead. “Why now?”

“Because… I should have done it before."

Still not an apology. Still not anywhere near acknowledging the pain he'd left in his wake.

"I shouldn't have waited this on to call or try to reach out. I know that."

Still not an apology. And something was telling me that there was more to it than just a sudden sense of guilt. Andrew had meant every word when he left. I could. I couldn't even begin to think that he didn't still meet them in some way. His timing was too perfect. And yet I still want it to reconcile with him, even after all these years. It made me feel weak, but it was a greater strength to acknowledge my weakness. And interpret that it didn't exist. I missed family. I missed the loud, vibrant way. The people I called family, not just pack, thundered through the halls of the estate.

I didn't respond. I could almost feel Andrew trying to decide how to approach whatever it was he actually wanted. Trying to gauge if it was working at all.

“Dominic,” he finally said, voice forced into something like civility. “I want to come back to Brightclaw. I want… to come home.”

I stilled, the words heavy in the air between us. “Why?”

“I’m tired of being away,” he said, the edges of his voice tightening. “I want to see if we can... reconcile. Talk. Set things right between us.”

I let the silence stretch on purpose, long enough for him to start shifting uncomfortably on his end. But I had no urge to speak to him. My driver pulled away from the curb.

“Look,” Andrew snapped, losing a little of the fragile calm. “I’m trying. I’m reaching out. You want me to crawl, is that it?”

I rubbed my temples, swallowing the sharp retort that threatened to rise. “Fine. You can return to Brightclaw.”

His breath released, relieved.

“But not to the estate,” I added.

The relief evaporated instantly. “What?”

“You heard me.”

There was venom in his voice now. “You’re never going to let me forget that I’m not a Brightclaw by blood, are you?”

I inhaled slowly, holding my patience. “That has nothing to do with it. You’re not pack, Andrew. You chose that, years ago.”

“It was never my choice!” he barked. "You---"

"Take it or stay wherever the hell you are, and lose my number."

Andrew hung up without another word. I scoffed, shaking my head. Whatever game he was playing, he was overplaying his hand. And I doubted this would be the end of it. If I knew Andrew, he wouldn't just show up in the capital and check into a hotel.

He'd show up at the estate and try to waltz right in, counting on the scandal and my stress to make it easy. I sent a message to my head of security to tell him to keep all incoming traffic monitored and if Andrew even looked like he was heading toward the Estate, to stop him.

I wasn't going to give him a chance to use my pain to his benefit.

Not again.