Chapter 9

Elara

“I said, get out!”

Ella let loose a rather impressive little snarl. When I glanced down at her, she had her fangs bared and I could see the fuzzy tips of little wolf ears poking out through her strands of hair, clear signs of a pup’s anger.

She was adorable when she was angry, I had to give her that.

But then my gaze fell on something behind her.

It was a half-finished puzzle spread out on the floor. The colorful pieces formed the beginnings of a vibrant landscape depicting green fields filled with horses, but many sections remained incomplete. It was an awfully big and complex puzzle for such a little girl.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

She narrowed her eyes at me and closed the door a little further. “None of your business.”

“You’re working on a puzzle?” I asked, ignoring her ire. “I just so happen to be a puzzle expert, you know.”

Ella glared up at me through her eyebrows, displeasure evident in her gaze. Without a word, she looked away and retreated further into the room, pretending not to hear me. But she hadn’t locked me out, so I stepped inside and knelt down by the puzzle, carefully studying the pieces scattered around.

She huffed and turned away, trying to show me through her body language that I could be here, but she wasn’t going to play with me.

We’d see about that.

After studying the pieces for a moment, I selected a corner piece and quietly placed it in the correct spot. The click of the piece fitting seemed to echo in the quiet room.

Ella’s attention flicked toward me, her curiosity betraying her otherwise stubborn demeanor. Although her frown remained, I could see the tiny hint of intrigue in her eyes.

“This puzzle is really hard,” she said nastily after a moment. “Someone like you probably can’t do it.”

“Someone like me?” I asked.

She shrugged one shoulder and began to dig through the pile of pieces. “An Omega.”

I felt my skin bristle a little bit at the jab, but I didn’t blame her; she was a child, and children heard and repeated all sorts of awful things. Who knew what sort of stuff she heard. Maybe her own father said some of it. Although if I was being honest, despite everything, I couldn’t picture him as that much of a classist now that I had met him.

Rather than getting upset, I smiled gently, keeping my focus on the puzzle. “Well, I do love a good challenge,” I replied, picking up another piece that seemed to match an open space. It clicked in right away.

She watched me out of the corner of her eye as I connected a few more pieces with ease. “You got lucky with those,” she muttered.

“Maybe,” I said lightly. “But sometimes it helps to look at the picture on the box for hints.”

Ella crossed her arms. “I don’t need hints. I can do it myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” I agreed. “But it’s more fun when you have someone to work with.”

She hesitated, then slowly moved closer and sat down across from me. “Fine. But only because you’re messing it up all on your own.”

“Fair enough,” I chuckled. “Show me how it’s done.”

We worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the soft clinks of puzzle pieces being moved and connected. Ella didn’t look at me or talk to me, but her guarded demeanor softened ever so slightly as she began piecing the puzzle together alongside me. Her shoulders loosened a little, and she began to stick her tongue out in concentration, just like Zoe always did.

“You’re really good at this,” I commented after a little while.

She glanced up briefly, a hint of pride in her expression. “I practice a lot.”

“It shows,” I said. “You have a keen eye.”

Ella’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and her lips curved into the smallest hint of a smile. If she was cute when she was furious, then she was devastatingly adorable when she was happy.

My little girl, I thought, my chest clenching painfully as I looked down at her.

Six years. Six years we had been separated, and I had no idea. I had missed so much—the newborn smell, first steps, potty training, first day of school.

I wanted to experience so much with her, make up for the lost time. And maybe I would have the chance to, if only she would let me in. One step at a time, I supposed, and it seemed we had taken the first one tonight.

As the puzzle neared completion, she looked up at me and asked hesitantly, “Will you... will you stay with us?”

I tilted my head, surprised by the question. “Do you want me to stay?”

She dropped her gaze, fiddling with a puzzle piece in her hand. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve never known what having a mom is like. It’s always been just me and Daddy. But now, with you and the new girl... I’m scared. I’m scared Daddy won’t love me as much anymore. I’m scared you’ll take him away from me.”

My heart ached at her confession. Gently, I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She flinched a little, but didn’t pull away. “Oh, Ella, you don’t have to worry about that. You will always be your daddy’s most important little girl. No one can take your place.”

She looked up, her eyes searching mine. “Promise?”

“I promise,” I said sincerely. “And I’m not here to take anyone away. I just want to get to know you, that’s all.”

She bit her lip, considering my words. “You’re... not so bad,” she admitted quietly.

I smiled. “Neither are you,” I said gently. “And neither is Zoe. She’d like to play with you, you know.”

Ella looked away again and didn’t answer—just returned to her puzzle. It seemed she wasn’t quite ready for that discussion yet, and I didn’t want to push it.

As she went back to work, my eyes drifted toward the doorway, and I noticed Alaric standing there. I couldn’t tell how long he had been watching, but his expression carried a hint of surprise.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I need to speak with you.”

I nodded and stood up, leaving Ella to her puzzle. Following Alaric into the hallway, I closed the door gently behind me. “What is it?” I asked.

He stopped a few steps away and turned to face me. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. His usual composed demeanor was replaced with an uncharacteristic hesitation. His gaze flickered between me and the floor, and a faint redness crept up his face.

“Is everything okay?” I prompted, raising an eyebrow.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His expression grew increasingly flustered, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

I watched him struggle in silence, my patience wearing thin. “If you have something to say, just say it already.”

Seeing me turn to leave, Alaric took a deep breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

Finally, in a low voice.

“I... I’m sorry.”