The small bell above the door chimed softly as Klara stepped into the familiar dim light of Isolde’s shop. The scent of dried lavender, aged parchment, and faint traces of old spells lingered in the air, wrapping around her like an old blanket. She paused just inside the entrance, her gaze sweeping over the shelves of potion bottles and the dark wooden counters covered in trinkets and charms.

  It felt both comforting and distant. How long had it been since she stood here, ready to learn? Years. Another life, it seemed—a life untouched by betrayal and heartbreak.

  Isolde emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a cloth. Her silver hair was twisted into a loose bun, and she wore a robe that shimmered faintly when she moved, as if woven with threads of starlight. She caught sight of Klara and offered a small, knowing smile.

  “You came back.”

  Klara swallowed, feeling the weight of those three words. To magic. To herself.

  “I had to,” Klara replied softly, stepping further inside. She couldn’t explain the ache in her chest—the constant pressure that felt like she was one breath away from shattering.

  Isolde set the cloth down and gestured for Klara to follow her toward the back of the shop. They passed through a curtain of delicate, beaded strands that hummed faintly with protective wards, entering a quiet room where candles floated midair, casting gentle light over an altar made of dark stone.

  The space felt heavier here. More intimate.

  “I sensed you would return eventually,” Isolde said, kneeling to retrieve a small wooden box from beneath the altar. “When the heart breaks, it tends to call for magic—even if you aren’t ready to listen.”

  Klara lowered herself to the floor, folding her legs beneath her as Isolde placed the box between them. Her hands felt cold as she rested them in her lap, her pulse quickening as the candlelight flickered across Isolde’s face.

  “What we start with depends on you,” Isolde said, her tone even and patient. “You’re holding on to something heavy. Magic can ease the weight, but it won’t carry it for you.”

  Klara glanced at the box, her fingers twitching with nervous energy. She could already feel it—the memories pressing in from the edges of her mind.

  Her throat tightened.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Isolde arched a brow, studying her carefully. “Then we begin with that,” she replied, lifting the lid of the box.

  Inside, nestled among strips of fabric, were polished stones—glowing faintly with runes etched along their surfaces. Klara reached for one, her fingertips grazing its cool surface, and felt a soft thrum beneath her skin.

  “A spell of grounding,” Isolde explained. “It will help you focus your energy and quiet the noise.”

  Klara nodded and pulled the stone into her palm, its warmth slowly bleeding into her skin. She closed her eyes, centering herself as Isolde instructed, breathing deeply until the room around her dimmed to a soft hum.

  But the quiet didn’t last.

  Klara’s eyes snapped open, the stone clattering to the ground. Her breath hitched as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her heart.

  Isolde remained calm, watching without judgment.

  “You don’t have to fight it,” she said quietly. “Let the thoughts come, but don’t hold them.”

  Klara’s lips pressed into a thin line as she bent to pick up the stone. Her hands shook, but she tightened her grip around the smooth edges, willing herself to stay grounded.

  “I’m trying,” Klara whispered, blinking away the sting behind her eyes.

  Isolde leaned closer, her gaze softening. “You’re here because you’re trying to reclaim something, but don’t mistake magic for escape. Magic amplifies truth. Face it.”

  The words struck deep, rattling something fragile inside Klara.

  “I’m not trying to escape,” Klara said after a moment, her voice raw but steady. “I’m trying to remember who I was before I forgot myself.”

  Isolde’s expression warmed with approval. She held out another stone, this one faintly glowing with gold runes. “Good. Then let’s keep going.”

  Klara exhaled, gripping the second stone tightly as she dove back into the spell. This time, the memories still flickered, but they felt less suffocating. She let them pass like shadows in the corner of her mind, no longer clinging to their weight.

  ------------

  The soft patter of Sierra’s bare feet echoed through the living room as she ran circles around the coffee table, clutching her favorite dragon plushie. Klara sat cross-legged on the floor, pretending to growl as she playfully reached out to catch her daughter. Sierra squealed, narrowly escaping her grasp as she dove behind the couch.

  “You can’t catch me, Mommy!” Sierra giggled, peeking over the armrest, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Klara teased, arching a brow. “I have a secret weapon.” She wiggled her fingers dramatically. “The tickle monster is coming for you.”

  Sierra let out another shriek, ducking under a pile of cushions. The warmth of the moment settled around Klara, even as a faint ache lingered beneath the surface—like a shadow refusing to fade.

  The doorbell rang, pulling Klara from her thoughts. She scooped Sierra into her arms, earning a delighted squeal as the little girl clung to her neck.

  “Who could that be?” Klara mused aloud, shifting Sierra to her hip as she walked to the door.

  When she opened it, Anya stood on the other side, wrapped in a long coat, her silver hair tucked neatly beneath a knitted hat. She grinned as soon as she saw them, the corners of her eyes crinkling with warmth.

  “Well, don’t I feel lucky,” Anya said, stepping inside and ruffling Sierra’s hair. “I get to see both my favorite girls today.”

  Sierra giggled. “Auntie Anya!” She squirmed in Klara’s arms until she was set down, immediately tugging on Anya’s hand to pull her toward the living room.

  “I missed you too, little dragon.” Anya knelt, pressing a kiss to Sierra’s forehead before glancing up at Klara. Her gaze lingered just a little too long, reading the weariness Klara tried to hide. But Anya, true to form, didn’t comment.

  “Tea?” Klara offered, grateful for the distraction.

  “Always.” Anya smiled but didn’t move until she squeezed Klara’s hand gently—just a moment of reassurance, wordless but grounding.

  In the kitchen, the soft whistle of the kettle filled the space as Klara set out cups and loose tea leaves. Anya leaned against the counter, casually pulling off her hat and smoothing her hair.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” Anya said, eyeing the small enchanted plants that glowed faintly on the windowsill. “Feels warmer.”

  Klara smiled faintly. “I’ve been working on little spells here and there. Isolde’s been helping me find my footing again.”

  Anya’s brow arched. “Back with Isolde? I thought you swore off magic training after Sierra was born.”

  Klara hesitated, stirring the tea slowly. “I thought I didn’t need it anymore. I thought… things were steady. But I guess I lost more of myself than I realized.”

  Anya didn’t reply immediately, and Klara glanced over to see her watching intently, the playful sparkle in her eyes dimmed.

  “I’m glad you’re going back,” Anya finally said. “Magic was always a part of you. You shouldn’t have to bury it just because—” She stopped herself.

  Klara caught the hesitation but didn’t press. She already knew how the sentence ended.

  Just because of Dominic.

  They returned to the living room, settling on the couch while Sierra built a tower with her blocks nearby. The fire crackled gently in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room.

  Klara wrapped her hands around her tea, letting the warmth seep into her skin. For the first time in days, she felt at ease.

  From the corner of the room, Sierra’s delighted laughter broke the quiet. Klara glanced over, her heart softening as Sierra carefully balanced her dragon plush atop the tower she’d built.

  “She’s why I’m holding it together,” Klara whispered. “Sierra’s the only thing keeping me grounded.”

  Anya followed her gaze, her expression softening. “She’s more like you than you realize. Stronger than she looks.”

  But as the words left her mouth, Sierra’s playful growls suddenly stopped. Klara’s eyes snapped toward her daughter just in time to see small, sharp claws retract into her tiny hands.

  Klara’s breath caught in her throat.

  Anya noticed too, sitting upright. “Did you see that?”

  Klara nodded slowly, her heart racing. “It’s starting.”

  Anya’s playful demeanor faded, replaced by quiet concern. “She’s showing early signs. Dominic will need to be part of this, Klara.”

  Klara’s chest tightened, her instinct to protect Sierra flaring instantly.

  “I can handle it,” she insisted.

  Anya met her gaze with quiet resolve. “You can handle a lot. But this… this is part of her nature. And Dominic needs to help her learn to control it.”

  Klara looked away, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t ready to see Dominic, not after everything. But the sight of Sierra, so small and unaware of the power waking inside her, left Klara with little choice.

  Later that evening, as the fire dimmed and Sierra drifted to sleep, Klara picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over Dominic’s contact.

  Anya, sitting nearby, gave her a reassuring nod.

  Klara pressed the call button.

  The phone rang once. Twice. Klara’s grip tightened as she listened to the distant, hollow ringing. Part of her hoped it would go to voicemail, that she could escape this conversation for another day. But on the third ring, the call connected.

  “Klara?” Dominic’s voice was deep, smooth as ever, but there was no urgency in it—just the same casual tone he’d always used when he thought everything was fine.

  Klara swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She glanced at Anya, who nodded encouragingly from across the room, but Klara couldn’t quite meet her gaze.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to call,” Dominic added after the silence stretched too long. “Is everything all right?”

  Klara’s eyes drifted to the fireplace where Sierra’s dragon plush sat, her small hands having carefully tucked it in with a blanket before she went to bed. The warmth of the flames didn’t reach her.

  “Sierra needs you,” Klara said, her voice clipped and direct. She didn’t bother with pleasantries.

  Dominic hesitated. “Sierra?” His tone shifted slightly, the faintest hint of concern finally creeping in. “Is she okay? What happened?”

  “She’s fine,” Klara replied sharply. “But her claws showed today.”

  Another pause. She could hear the sound of him shifting on the other end, his breathing shallow as he processed the words.

  “Claws?” he repeated.

  “Yes. She’s starting to show signs of dragonkin.” Klara’s fingers tightened around the phone. “I can’t teach her how to handle that, Dominic. You can.”

  Dominic exhaled softly, but his response wasn’t what she expected. “I thought this wouldn’t happen for a few more years.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “She’s ahead of schedule,” Klara said tersely. “Clearly.”

  “Is there anything else going on?” he asked cautiously. There was a flicker of suspicion in his voice now, but Klara’s patience thinned with each second that passed.

  “She needs you,” Klara repeated, her tone final. “That’s all that matters.”

  Dominic seemed to weigh her words. “I’ll book the next flight. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  The line went dead, and Klara lowered the phone, staring at the blank screen for a long moment.

  The Next Day –

  Klara sat by the window, cradling a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the streets. Anya sat nearby, her legs curled beneath her as she flipped through one of Klara’s spell books, more out of boredom than interest.

  They had barely spoken that afternoon. Both of them knew what was coming.

  When the doorbell rang, Klara didn’t move at first. She sat frozen, her heart pounding loudly in her chest.

  “Do you want me to—” Anya started, but Klara shook her head, standing.

  “I’ll get it.”

  She opened the door to find Dominic standing there, his dark coat unbuttoned and hair slightly tousled from travel. His golden eyes—an unmistakable trait of his dragonkin heritage—locked onto hers immediately, flickering with unspoken questions.

  For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

  “Klara,” Dominic said finally, his gaze softening as he took her in. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but Klara stepped aside silently, motioning him inside.

  The warmth of the house washed over him as he entered, his eyes sweeping the room until they landed on Anya.

  “Anya.” He nodded, his voice polite but cautious.

  “Dominic.” Anya’s smile was faint, but there was an edge beneath it. She closed the spell book and leaned back on the couch, folding her arms. “Welcome home.”

  Dominic’s eyes flickered to Klara, clearly noting the tension in the room.

  “Where’s Sierra?” he asked, glancing toward the hallway leading to her room.

  “She’s napping,” Klara replied quietly, setting her cup down on the table. “I didn’t wake her. I didn’t know if you’d want to see her right away.”

  Dominic nodded, shifting awkwardly. “Of course. I can wait.”

  The silence that followed felt heavier than any confrontation Klara had imagined.

  Finally, Anya broke the quiet. “So… Klara tells me you’ve been lately.”

  Klara shot her a sharp look, but Anya didn’t back down.

  Dominic’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ve been working. You know how it is.”

  “No, actually, I don’t.” Anya’s tone darkened as she set the book aside. “See, most people notice when their family stops calling. Especially their mate.”

  Klara shifted uncomfortably, but Dominic’s gaze remained fixed on her.

  “I thought everything was fine,” he said softly, as if that explanation could smooth over everything.

  Klara’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s the problem, Dominic. You thought everything was fine because I made sure it was. I handled everything—Sierra, the distance, your silence. I convinced myself it was enough.”

  Dominic’s brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. “Klara, I didn’t—”

  She held up her hand, stopping him. “I’m not angry about the distance. I’m angry because you didn’t notice when I stopped trying. When I stopped calling. And even now… you’re only here because Sierra needs you.”

  Dominic’s jaw tightened. He took another step closer. His voice dipped lower, rough with emotion.

  Klara met his gaze, searching for cracks in his calm.

  “You have a funny way of showing it,” she murmured.

  Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I know I’ve been distant. I know I’ve made mistakes, but don’t for a second think I wouldn’t fight for this family.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Klara’s voice trembled now, though she fought to keep it steady. “Why did I have to be the one to carry it all?”

  Dominic stepped even closer, his hands resting gently on her arms. His warmth, so familiar, made her heart ache.

  “I’m here now,” he said softly.

  Klara’s breath caught, but the weight of Dominic’s words settled like a cold stone in her chest.

  She stepped back, breaking his touch with deliberate care, crossing her arms over herself as if to shield against the vulnerability threatening to surface.

  “You don’t get to stand there and promise to fix this,” she said, her voice sharp but trembling. “Not after what I saw.”

  Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “Klara, I—”

  “I Dominic,” she cut in, each word like a dagger between them. “In bed with someone else. Do you think I’d just forget that?”

  His breath hitched, but Klara’s fury burned brighter.

  Anya, who had been silently observing from the couch, finally set her tea down with a heavy thud.

  “I really thought you were better than this,” Anya said coolly, her gaze locking onto her brother with quiet disappointment.

  Dominic turned slightly toward her, confusion flickering across his features. “Anya, stay out of this—”

  “No.” Her voice cut through the room like ice. She stood, arms crossed, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. “I’m not staying out of anything. You Dominic. On Klara. On And the mother of your child.”

  Dominic opened his mouth, but Anya raised a hand, silencing him.

  “I defended you when everyone said you were too much like Dad,” she continued, her voice shaking with restrained anger. “I told them you were different. That you wouldn’t follow the same path—”

  “I different,” Dominic snapped, the frustration in his voice rising.

  Anya’s eyes darkened. “No. You’re not.”

  Silence thickened between them. Klara’s heart pounded, but she let Anya speak. This wasn’t just her confrontation—Anya was carrying her own wounds in this.

  “Do you even remember what it was like watching Mom pretend everything was fine?” Anya asked, her voice quieter but laced with raw emotion. “All those nights she waited for him to come home. And when he did, there was lipstick on his collar or perfume on his shirt. I watched her into herself, Dominic.”

  Dominic’s jaw tightened. His gaze flickered toward Klara, guilt pooling in his eyes.

  “I watched her break, and I thought, ‘At least Dominic will never be like him,’” Anya whispered. “I was wrong.”

  Dominic’s fists clenched at his sides, his breath shaky. “It wasn’t like that. I—”

  “It doesn’t matter it happened,” Anya interrupted, stepping closer to him. “It happened. And now Klara’s standing in front of you, trying to hold together the pieces you broke. Just like Mom did.”

  Klara’s throat tightened, but she didn’t let the tears fall. Anya’s words cut deep because they were true.

  Dominic’s gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his sister’s words.

  “I didn’t want this,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

  Anya’s arms tightened around herself. “Neither did Mom. And neither does Klara.”

  Silence stretched again, thick and suffocating.

  Finally, Dominic looked up at Klara, desperation flickering in his golden eyes. “I can’t change what I did,” he admitted, his voice rough with regret. “But I can’t walk away from this either. From you. From Sierra.”

  Klara stared at him, her heart battling the war between love and betrayal. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the raw vulnerability that Dominic rarely allowed anyone to witness.

  But sincerity didn’t erase what she saw. It didn’t erase the ache in her chest or the way she’d pulled Sierra out of that room, shielding her from the sight of her father’s betrayal.

  “I don’t know if I can trust you,” Klara whispered, repeating the words that felt heavier each time she said them.

  Dominic took a step forward, but this time, he didn’t reach for her. His voice dropped to something softer, more pleading.

  “Then let me prove it to you.”

  Klara’s hands trembled at her sides.

  Anya’s gaze lingered on her, as if waiting for her decision. “He shouldn’t get to decide how this plays out, Klara. do.”

  Klara met Dominic’s gaze, searching for answers she wasn’t sure he could give. The anger in her chest simmered, but it no longer burned with the same intensity.

  “I’m not ready to forgive you,” she said finally, her voice quiet but resolute.

  Dominic nodded slowly. “I understand.”

  “But Sierra needs you,” Klara added. “And if you’re serious about proving yourself… start with her.”

  His eyes softened, and this time, Klara didn’t miss the flicker of relief beneath the regret.

  “I will.”

  Anya, still watching Dominic carefully, finally exhaled and leaned against the wall. “I’m staying too. Just so you know.”

  Dominic glanced at her, brow arching. “To keep an eye on me?”

  “Damn right,” Anya muttered, folding her arms. “Someone has to.”

  Klara couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It faded quickly, but the warmth in Anya’s words lingered.

  Dominic sighed and nodded, his shoulders still heavy with guilt. “Fair enough.”

  As he sat down, Sierra’s soft footsteps pattered from the hallway, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she dragged her plush dragon behind her.

  “Daddy?” Her voice was small, uncertain.

  Dominic’s eyes softened as he turned to her, the tension in the room dissolving in the face of his daughter’s innocence.

  “I’m here, sweetheart,” he said gently, opening his arms.

  Sierra hesitated for only a second before running to him, curling into his embrace as if no time had passed.

  Klara watched from a distance, arms still crossed but heart aching in a way she couldn’t define.

  Later that night

  The soft glow of the fireplace bathed the living room in warm light as Dominic held Sierra close, gently brushing his fingers through her hair. She snuggled deeper into his chest, yawning softly as if the weight of the world had melted away in his arms.

  Klara lingered by the doorway, arms crossed, watching silently as Dominic held their daughter.

  After a few moments, Sierra stirred, lifting her head to look at him with wide, sleepy eyes.

  “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the crackling fire. “I made something for you.”

  Dominic’s brows furrowed with curiosity. “Oh? What did you make, little dragon?”

  Sierra squirmed out of his lap and dashed over to the small shelf by the window where Klara had carefully placed the card Sierra had made for Dominic’s birthday. The edges were slightly crumpled from the day Klara had tightly clutched it, but the colorful dragon Sierra had painted still smiled up from the cover.

  She returned to Dominic, proudly holding it out with both hands. “It’s your birthday card! I made it with Mommy. See?”

  Dominic took the card delicately, as if it might shatter in his hands. His gaze lingered on the bright, uneven strokes of Sierra’s painting—her attempt at drawing a dragon wrapped around a glowing heart. His throat tightened as his fingers brushed over the small, clumsy letters spelling out “Happy Birthday, Daddy.”

  He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking briefly toward Klara. She didn’t move, though there was something unreadable in her expression.

  “This is perfect,” Dominic said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, sweetheart. I love it.”

  Sierra beamed, climbing back into his lap and curling against him once more. “I knew you would.”

  Klara’s chest ached as she watched the scene unfold. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the family they used to be—whole and unbroken. But the ache in her heart quickly reminded her of the cracks that lay beneath the surface.

  “Come on, Sierra,” Klara said gently, stepping forward. “It’s time for bed.”

  Sierra groaned but didn’t argue as Klara scooped her up. The little girl rested her head on Klara’s shoulder, already halfway to sleep.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Klara said quietly, meeting Dominic’s gaze for only a second before disappearing down the hall with Sierra.

  The house had settled into silence by the time Klara returned to the living room. Sierra was tucked in, her soft breathing barely audible through the crack in her bedroom door.

  Anya hadn’t left. She sat cross-legged on the couch, drinking the last of her wine as Dominic stood by the window, staring into the dark streets below.

  Klara hesitated in the doorway, but Anya caught her eye and gave a slight nod. “I’ll be out of your hair soon,” she said casually. “Just catching up with my dear brother.”

  Klara didn’t press, retreating down the hall toward her room.

  As the door to Klara’s room clicked shut, Anya’s easy demeanor shifted. She set her cup down and leaned forward, eyes narrowing as she studied Dominic’s tense figure.

  “Alright,” she said, breaking the silence. “I didn’t say anything in front of Klara, but you and I need to talk.”

  Dominic’s shoulders stiffened. “About what?”

  Anya raised a brow, unimpressed. “Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what. I want to hear it from you.”

  Dominic’s gaze didn’t shift from the window. “There’s nothing to say.”

  Anya scoffed, sitting back against the couch. “Is that right? So you didn’t cheat on Klara?”

  The room hung heavy with her question, the air thick with expectation.

  Dominic’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  The silence stretched on, long enough that Anya’s faint hope began to dwindle.

  “Come on, Dominic,” Anya pressed, her voice softer now but laced with disappointment. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me this isn’t like Dad.”

  Dominic’s hand curled into a fist at his side. His eyes flickered for the briefest moment, but still, no words came.

  Anya’s throat tightened, the realization settling like lead in her chest.

  “I always thought you were better than him,” she whispered, the betrayal evident in her voice. “But now… you’re standing here, not even trying to deny it.”

  Dominic exhaled, running a hand down his face, but the weight of his guilt dragged his movements. “I didn’t want this to happen, Anya,” he said finally, his voice hoarse.

  “But it ” Anya’s voice trembled with restrained anger. “And now she’s picking up the pieces while you’re standing here feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Dominic turned toward her, meeting her gaze at last. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice rose, frustration bleeding through. “I know exactly what I did. I’ve had to live with it every damn day since.”

  Anya’s eyes narrowed. “Then why didn’t you tell her?”

  Dominic’s breath hitched. “Because I knew I’d lose her. And I wasn’t ready for that.”

  Anya’s gaze softened, but there was no sympathy in her eyes. “You lost her the second you betrayed her.”

  Dominic’s shoulders sagged, the weight of her words pressing down on him.

  “I’m staying,” Anya said quietly, brushing hair from her face. “For Klara. For Sierra. And I’ll be watching you, Dominic. If you mess this up again—”

  “I won’t,” Dominic said quickly, his voice resolute. “I swear, Anya.”

  Anya studied him for a long moment, her sharp gaze piercing through the remnants of his defenses.

  “Good.” She stood, grabbing her coat from the armrest. “Because if you break her again, I’m not going to stop her from leaving you for good.”

  Dominic didn’t reply. He simply watched as his sister left the room, leaving him alone with the flickering fire and the weight of his choices.

  As Anya’s footsteps faded down the hall.

  The soft click of Anya’s bedroom door down the hall faded into silence, leaving Dominic alone in the dim glow of the firelight. He remained by the window, one hand pressed to the cold glass as his gaze drifted to the dark street outside.

  The weight in his chest hadn’t lifted—instead, it deepened, like an anchor slowly pulling him under.

  For the first time, standing in the home he had once shared with Klara, Dominic felt like a stranger.

  His golden eyes flickered to the hallway, tracing the outline of Klara’s closed bedroom door. It felt miles away, though it was only a few steps down the hall.

  Could he fix this?

  He wanted to believe he could—wanted to cling to the fire he had seen flicker behind Klara’s eyes when she confronted him. She hadn’t shut him out completely. Not yet.

  But doubt twisted inside him.

  Klara had always been his anchor, grounding him when the weight of his dragon blood grew too heavy to bear. She softened the sharp edges of his temper, loved him through every storm, and fought for their family with a ferocity that left him breathless.

  He he had betrayed that.

  Yet, the truth was far more complicated than she could ever know.

  Dominic raked a hand through his hair, his pulse hammering in his ears. The memory of that night flashed through his mind like a jagged blade—the one Klara had walked in on, the one that shattered everything.

  But it hadn’t been what she thought.

  Yes, there had been a woman in his bed. Yes, it looked damning—looked like he had broken the sacred bond between mates.

  But it wasn’t the affair Klara believed it to be.

  It was something darker.

  Dominic’s jaw tightened, and his reflection in the glass wavered as the weight of the secret bore down on him.

  There were things he could never tell her. Things that went far beyond the ordinary sins of a careless husband.

  If Klara knew the truth—if knew—they would never look at him the same way again.

  Not because he had betrayed his mate. But because of he had let it happen.

  Dominic’s fist pressed lightly against the window frame.

  The dragon in his blood, the part of him that craved dominance and power, whispered that he should let it go. That explaining would only fracture the fragile connection still left between him and Klara.

  But his human heart—the part that still ached every time he thought of her—refused to surrender so easily.

  He had wanted to protect her. That had been his only goal.

  Yet, in doing so, he had torn apart the very foundation of what they had built.

  His gaze drifted back toward Klara’s door, lingering on the faint light spilling out from beneath the frame. He imagined her sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the same shadows he was.

  Could he undo this? Could love alone be enough to salvage the wreckage he had caused?

  Dominic wanted to believe it could.

  But he wasn’t sure anymore.

  And that uncertainty terrified him.

  The soft sound of Sierra shifting in her room caught his attention. His daughter—his little dragon—was growing faster than he had expected, her dragon traits already beginning to show.

  That was something he could hold onto.

  If nothing else, he be here for Sierra. Even if Klara never let him back into her heart, he would stand by their daughter.

  Dominic finally stepped away from the window, shoulders squared as he moved toward the couch. He sat down heavily, resting his elbows on his knees, and let out a slow breath.

  Whatever came next—whatever lay ahead—he would face it.

  Even if it meant carrying the truth alone.