Callum’s POV
After Hailee walked away, I turned to Montana. My anger burned hot in my chest. The joke was on her for ever thinking I would marry her. Even if Hailee didn’t exist, I would never settle for a spoiled bitch like Montana. I would never curse my unborn children with a mother as spiteful as she was. Never.
"There is no engagent," I growled. My voice shook the room. "Stop lying."
Montana lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. "Your father gave this ring. The council agreed. That makes yours."
I laughed, but it was sharp and cold. "A ring forced on your finger ans nothing. My word is law. And I never gave it to you."
Her face turned red with rage. "You can’t sha like this. My father—"
"I don’t care about your father!" I snapped, slamming my hand against the wall. She jumped at the sound. "You will never be my Luna. Not now, not ever."
Her lips trembled, but her eyes still burned. "I won’t lose you. Not to her."
I snarled. "You never had , Montana, and you will never have ."
Her frown deepened as she stepped closer. "Do you know how many n want ?" she said, spinning a little so I could see her. "I am beautiful. I have a na. I have power. If you won’t take , I can go to any of them. I will not beg you."
I shrugged. "Then go," I said. "Go to them."
Her glare hardened more. She leaned forward, very close, and her voice went cold. "I am not letting go of you, Callum... never... everyone knows I am your wife-to-be. You can’t disgrace . Instead of becoming a subject of mockery, I will make that bitch disappear."
Sothing in snapped. I moved so fast that before she knew it, I had grabbed her neck. Her eyes flew wide in shock as she clawed at my grip. "How dare you!" I yelled. My voice shook the room. "You dare to threaten ." I spat and swiftly let go of her before I did sothing I would regret.
"Guards!" I called.
Two warriors rushed in.
"Take her away," I ordered. "And don’t let her near again."
Montana’s face twisted in shock. "You’ll regret this!" she scread as the guards dragged her out. "I won’t lose you, Callum!"
My hands still shook from the urge to crush her throat. I couldn’t stay in that room — not with her scent clinging to , not with my wolf pacing restlessly inside . I needed to clear my head.
I walked out to the combat grounds. The sound of training filled the air—shouts, laughter, the clash of wooden swords.
And then I saw them.
Her boys.
Oscar, standing firm with his sword. Ozzy, watching every move before he struck. But Oliver...
Oliver caught my eyes and held them.
He swung his sword with strength far too great for a boy of ten. His stance was bold, steady. He moved with focus, with speed. My chest tightened as I watched him.
My wolf froze.
Mine.
The word shook through like thunder.
Oliver switched hands, blocking a strike with his left. My breath caught. He was better with his left hand—just like . Everyone once said it was a weakness, but I had made it my strength.
And now... he fought the sa way.
That is your son, my wolf growled, loud and sure. Your blood. I am not mistaken.
I staggered back, gripping the railing, my heart racing.
Oliver. My son.
But then my eyes moved to Oscar and Ozzy. They were triplets. Three born the sa day. Yet my wolf was silent for them.
Why?
Why only Oliver?
My chest ached, my mind spinning. If Oliver was mine... then what about the other two?
I was beyond confused. My head felt like it wanted to explode.
Slowly I stepped down from the railing, my boots crunching on the sand. "Oliver," I called.
He stopped mid-swing, blinking up at . "Alpha Callum?" His voice was surprised but bright.
I gave him a small smile. "Co here."
He jogged over, wooden sword still in his hand. His cheeks were flushed from training, his eyes shining with excitent. When he smiled at , it hit like a blow. My own smile stared back at .
"Let train you," I said. "You’re good, but I can make you better."
His face lit up like the sun. "Really?" he asked, bouncing a little on his toes. "You’d teach yourself?"
I nodded, feeling sothing strange twist inside . "Yes. Show how you hold your sword."
He lifted it—left hand stronger than his right—exactly the way I used to as a boy. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding.
"Good," I said quietly, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Very good."
We started to spar. Slow moves at first, then faster. I corrected his stance, showed him where to shift his weight. He picked it up fast, his movents sharp, focused. Every ti he grinned up at , my wolf howled, Mine "What’s your favorite move?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
He bead. "The side slash. But I can’t get it perfect yet."
I crouched a little, lowering my sword. "Show ."
He did. And it was perfect—my move, my style. He didn’t even know it.
I felt dizzy. My chest tightened, my mind spinning. If Oliver was mine... why weren’t his brothers? They were triplets. How could only one carry my blood?
I forced myself to keep training him, to smile, to correct his grip, but inside I was shaking. I needed answers.
When we finished, I clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You did well," I said softly. "You’re a natural."
He laughed, cheeks pink. "Thanks, Alpha Callum!"
I managed a smile back. "I need to check on sothing," I said, trying to sound light. "Stay here with the warriors."
As he turned back to practice, I reached out and brushed his hair gently, like fixing a stray strand. My fingers closed around a single hair, pulling it loose without him noticing.
My heart pounded. My wolf didn’t need proof... but I did. Only truth could silence the storm in my chest.
"Good work," I said again, pocketing the hair. "Keep training. I’ll be back soon."
Then I turned away, my heart heavy and my wolf restless. I needed to know the truth.
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