The lost mate
Chapter 50: The Hardest Goodbye

Chapter 50: The Hardest Goodbye

Damien’s expression darkened at Annie’s words. He leant forward, his arms crossing on the table, tension radiating from him like a cold wind. His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and serious.

"Annie, Ryan will never be hidden away. He’s my son—our son—and nothing will change that," Damien said, his voice low but resolute. "I would never let him be treated like some illegitimate secret."

Annie’s lips tightened as she searched his face for any sign of doubt.

"That’s easier said than done." She muttered.

Damien’s jaw clenched, his hand instinctively gripping his cup, the tension visible in his fingers.

"We’ve been through this argument before. There’s no need to bring it up again."

Annie exhaled slowly, but her concern remained. "Damien. But I’ve seen the way your world works. Wolves, packs... the politics, the status. You never went through things that I have experienced."

Damien cut her off, his voice rising slightly. "Ryan is my heir, no matter what anyone says. He’s my blood, my legacy. I’ll make sure he’s recognised, Annie."

Annie shook her head, biting her lip as her emotions bubbled just beneath the surface. "But what about us? Where do I fit into this picture?"

Damien’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing against hers lightly. "You’re his mother. That’s everything, Annie. I don’t want anyone else at my side," he said quietly, his voice firm. "You know that."

Annie’s chest tightened. "You might not want anyone else now, Damien, but you’re an Alpha prince. Your duty is to your pack. They’ll expect you to take a Luna. And when that time comes..."

"You are enough," Damien shot back quickly, his voice intense. "You’ve always been enough."

But Annie couldn’t shake the doubt. The fear. The nightmare she’d woken from still clung to her, and though she wanted to believe Damien, the truth of his world—the hierarchy, the expectations—loomed too large.

"I don’t know if you can," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

"I’m going with you, Damien," she said after a long pause, her voice quiet but firm. "But I need you to understand—this isn’t about us. I’m going as his mother, nothing more."

Damien’s face tightened, the muscles in his jaw twitching, but he didn’t argue. He simply nodded, though the frustration in his eyes spoke volumes. "Fine," he said finally, his voice low. "For now."

Ryan’s laughter echoed from the play area, and Annie turned her head to see him building a towering stack of blocks, his face lit with joy. That was her purpose—her priority. Whatever happened between her and Damien, Ryan came first.

Damien followed her gaze, his expression softening as he watched his son. He stood slowly, pushing his chair back. "Let’s get him ready," he said quietly. "We’ll leave tomorrow."

**********************************

The engines of Damien’s private jet hummed softly, the sleek plane waiting on the tarmac under the morning sun. Inside, the atmosphere was anything but relaxed.

Heather and Emily had been surprisingly easy to convince. Even Annie had been shocked at how quickly they had agreed to leave with her. Heather had simply said, "I owe you, Annie. I’ll do anything to repay that favour." There had been no hesitation, no argument—just a quiet understanding between them. Emily, on the other hand, had agreed, though it was clear her acceptance was more reluctant. She had a life here, and the idea of leaving it all behind, even temporarily, had clearly unsettled her.

Now, as they climbed into the luxurious cabin of Damien’s plane, the tension between Annie and Damien simmered in the air like an unspoken storm. They barely acknowledged each other.

Ryan, however, was oblivious to the strained mood. He was already racing around the spacious cabin, pretending to be a pilot. "Mama! Look at me! I’m flying the plane!" he shouted, his arms spread wide as he darted from seat to seat, grinning with pure, unrestrained excitement.

Annie gave him a strained smile. "Be careful, Ryan. You don’t want to trip."

Emily, on the other hand, was spellbound by the plane’s interior. Her eyes widened as she took in the luxurious leather seats, the gleaming wooden panelling, and the subtle opulence of the space.

"I’ve never seen anything like this," she whispered to Heather, who smiled warmly.

Heather, however, seemed unbothered by the luxury, more focused on simply being with Annie and supporting her through this next step.

As everyone settled into their seats, it became clear that one person needed a lot more convincing—Ryan.

"I don’t wanna sit," Ryan protested, fidgeting restlessly as he plopped into the plush seat next to Annie. His legs kicked out, and his eyes darted towards the window where he could see the plane’s wings.

Damien, ever the patient father, kneeled in front of him. "Hey, champ, we need to stay seated for takeoff. But after that, you can explore more of the plane, okay?"

Ryan pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. "But I wanna fly now."

Annie sighed, leaning forward. "Ryan, listen to your dad. You can play later, but for now, you need to stay put."

It was Chris who finally intervened, crouching next to the boy with an exaggeratedly serious expression. "Ryan, you know what happens if you don’t sit down during takeoff?" He glanced around, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "The plane might get all wobbly, and then the captain won’t know where to fly. You don’t want to crash into a cloud, do you?"

Ryan’s eyes went wide, and he quickly settled back into his seat, his imagination clearly taking over. "Okay, I’ll sit," he muttered, clutching the armrests with both hands.

As Ryan finally calmed down, Chris stood up, his eyes drifting to Emily, who was seated across the aisle. He cleared his throat and, after a moment of hesitation, slid into the seat besides her.

"Hey," he began, his tone casual as he tried to make conversation. "You comfortable?"

Emily turned to him, her expression guarded but polite. "It’s fine. I’ve flown before. Just not... like this." She gestured to the opulent surroundings, still looking slightly out of place in such luxury.

Chris chuckled softly. "Yeah, it’s a bit different from your usual flight. Damien likes to do things... well, big."

An awkward silence followed, and Chris shifted in his seat. His usually confident demeanour faltered as he glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "Emily," he said after a beat, his voice quieter now. "Are you mad at me?"

Emily blinked, her eyes flicking to meet his. "Mad at you?" she repeated, frowning. "No, I’m not mad."

"But..." Chris prodded gently, sensing there was more she wasn’t saying.

Emily sighed, her fingers twisting in her lap. "I’m not mad, Chris. But I don’t see how... this... works." She motioned vaguely between them, her eyes betraying her uncertainty. "You’re a wolf. I’m a human. There’s no future here. I know all about your soulmate system. Someday, you’re going to find your true mate, and when that happens, I’ll be nothing."

Chris was quiet; his gaze focused on the ground.

"Sometimes... wolves have a human mate, Emily." He looked up, meeting her eyes with an intensity that made her heart skip. "It’s rare, but it happens. We don’t always find our mates in other wolves. Sometimes, our bond is with a human."

Emily’s breath hitched slightly. "What happens then?"

"Then the human has to become a werewolf."

Emily’s eyes widened, and she pulled back slightly, her fingers tightening around the armrests. "Become... a werewolf?"

Chris nodded, his gaze steady, though the weight of his words seemed to hang heavily between them. "Yes, it’s possible. The bond is what matters, and if it’s strong enough, the transformation can happen. But it’s not easy. It’s not something you can just... undo. It’s a lifelong commitment."

Emily looked down, her mind racing. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to process the revelation. "I don’t even know what to say to that," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "It sounds... "

"Terrifying ?" Chris interrupted.

"No, it sounds romantic." Emily replied.