Knotting His Rejected Breeder

Ramon did not move. He stood imposing beneath the chapel arch with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, clad in a dark formal coat that seemed to absorb the dim light. The gentle flicker of the surrounding candlelight caught the silver threads at his temples, but despite the rising tension, his face gave nothing away. For several agonizing seconds, nobody dared to speak.

Then Dane finally stopped at the bottom of the stone steps, his hand tightening protectively around Destiny’s.

"Father," he acknowledged.

Ramon’s cool gaze shifted slowly to their joined hands. "I was wondering how long it would take you to decide that a wedding was the easiest way to make a rebellion look respectable."

Dane’s expression hardened immediately. "I’m not asking for permission."

"No," Ramon said, stepping forward as his voice cut through the quiet air. "You stopped asking for that a long time ago."

Sonia moved up to stand beside Dane, meeting her husband’s guarded look without flinching. "Ramon."

When he looked at her, she held his gaze with unwavering resolve. "Move."

A faint muscle twitched in his jaw. "Is that an order?"

"No," Sonia replied softly, her tone carrying a gentle yet firm authority. "It’s a request from your wife."

Ramon glanced past her to assess the rest of the gathering. Marcus and Kalessie stood stoically together, and though Destiny’s family looked visibly tense, they showed no intention of retreating. Henrik had subtly positioned himself to Dane’s side, while Hannah remained close to Sonia. Nearby, Blane and his guards stayed at the outer edge of the court, silently watching the confrontation unfold.

Ramon looked over each of them before returning his gaze to his son. "You really mean to do this tonight."

Dane took a deliberate step forward. "Yes."

"You know what happens when you marry her," Ramon warned, his tone darkening. "You know who her family has crossed."

Dane’s eyes narrowed. "I know. Vance."

"And you still think this is wise?"

"No," Dane answered steadily, his voice ringing clear. "I think it’s mine."

That answer seemed to strike Ramon harder than a heated argument ever could. He turned his attention back to Destiny, noticing that she made no effort to hide behind Dane. That quiet display of strength mattered to him. Slowly, Ramon walked down the chapel steps until only a few feet separated him from his son.

"You think I’m trying to take your choice away from you."

"You are."

"I’m trying to keep you alive," Ramon countered.

Dane let out a humorless laugh. "By marrying me to Aurora?"

Ramon’s expression tightened at the blow. "I tried to stop this marriage before it reached this point, and you know that."

"I know you tried to control it."

"Because I know what we’re dealing with," Ramon’s voice sharpened as his patience wore thin. "You think Vance is going to shrug and accept this simply because you stood before the Goddess and exchanged vows?"

Silence fell over the courtyard.

Ramon cast a glance toward the chapel entrance. "He won’t."

Dane stepped closer, refusing to yield. "Then let him come."

Henrik muttered something under his breath, which Ramon caught immediately. His eyes snapped toward Henrik with fierce intensity. "You think that’s courage?"

Henrik met his glare directly. "I think hiding from him isn’t a solution."

"No," Ramon admitted, "it isn’t. But neither is walking into a fight without knowing whether you can survive it."

The heavy truth of his words settled over the courtyard. Dane’s anger did not entirely vanish, but the sharp edge of it softened.

Ramon continued, leaning into the reality of their situation. "If Vance decides this marriage is an insult, he doesn’t have to challenge you to a duel. He can make this pack pay for it in ways you haven’t even considered."

Dane folded his arms, remaining guarded.

"Such as?"

"Our land," Ramon stated plainly.

That single answer silenced Dane completely.

Taking another step toward him, Ramon explained, "Our pack isn’t a house we can pack into wagons and carry somewhere else. These borders have belonged to us for generations, and the treaties protecting them are older than you are. Our hunting grounds, our water, our alliances, and the routes our people use all rely on neighboring packs that depend on those agreements. If Vance forces us out, we don’t simply wake up tomorrow and choose another forest or another city to migrate to."

Marcus watched Ramon carefully throughout the explanation. Catching the movement, Ramon turned to him. "You’re willing to risk your daughter."

Marcus glanced toward Destiny before meeting Ramon’s eyes. "I am willing to let my daughter choose."

Ramon’s voice grew colder. "I thought you, of all people, would understand. You know the dangers and what your daughter is choosing, yet you still let her walk right into it."

Marcus was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I spent years thinking that protecting a child meant standing in front of every door that could hurt her. I thought if I could keep dangerous things far enough away, I was doing my job." He looked over at Destiny, his expression softening with affection. "Then she grew up, and I realized something: if I keep making every decision for her because I’m afraid of what might happen, then I’m not protecting her. I’m only teaching her that her life belongs to me."

Ramon’s hard expression shifted slightly under the weight of those words.

"You’re doing the same thing with Dane," Marcus added gently. As the courtyard remained quiet, he concluded, "You call it protection because that sounds better than control, but eventually you have to decide whether you trust the child you raised to carry the consequences of his own choices."

Ramon turned back to look at Dane. For the first time since they had arrived at the chapel, the rigid anger seemed to leave him. Sonia watched her husband closely, sensing the shift.

"Dane is not asking you to fight Vance for him," Sonia said softly, catching Ramon’s attention. "He is asking you to stop fighting him."

Something conflicted passed through Ramon’s eyes. He turned away and stared into the illuminated chapel. Near the altar, the elder priestess—an elderly woman in white robes with a silver moon pendant resting against her chest—was waiting quietly while two young attendants lit the last of the candles.

Ramon exhaled a slow, heavy breath before turning back to face his son. "I don’t like this. I think you are underestimating what comes after this marriage."

"I probably am," Dane admitted.

A shadow of a smile touched Ramon’s lips. "At least you’re honest."

Dane took another step toward his father. "Are you going to stop us?"

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