My Mother-in-law

Damien's POV:

 Her voice was soft, like a melody drifting through the air, calming yet captivating. She had called out to me, signaling that she was done dressing. Midnight, my wolf, had urged me to start by introducing myself properly, but something within me faltered. Panic seized me, and instead of a smooth introduction, the first words that escaped my lips were an apology for her miscarriage. It wasn't the right thing to say, and Midnight made sure I wouldn't forget my mistake anytime soon.

 The moment I mentioned it, I saw the shift in her eyes—a flash of something raw and painful. She spiraled into a panic attack, her breathing shallow and rapid. My instinct was to reach out, to comfort her, but she recoiled from my touch as if it burned her. It was as if my presence itself was a trigger, and the realization cut deep. Left with no other option, I tried to soothe her with my voice, speaking softly, reassuringly. To my relief, it seemed to help; after a while, she began to calm down, her breathing steadying as she regained control.

 I could see the confusion in her eyes when she asked about the miscarriage, almost as if she hadn't known she was pregnant. And then, out of nowhere, she asked me the most heartbreaking question I could ever imagine. Was I going to be the one to reject her, or would she do it herself?

 Her words were like a knife to my heart, and I felt it shatter into a thousand pieces. The audacity, the pain, the sheer disbelief—I didn't know if she was teasing or if she was serious. I had to ask, but when I did, my voice came out as a desperate plea. Was she joking?

 Midnight, who had been my strength, was now panicking. Our mate didn't want us—that's what he thought. Or was it worse? Was it because of that bastard who had gotten her pregnant? The jealousy clawed at me, a wild, uncontrollable force. She must have loved him enough to be with him, to share something so intimate with him, and that thought drove me mad. I swore to myself that if I ever found the jerk who had touched her, I'd make him pay.

 I struggled to push the jealousy aside, but it gnawed at me, eating me alive. I tried to reason with her, to understand why she wanted to reject us, but in the process, I probably sounded like a desperate teenager. And maybe that's exactly what I was—desperate not to lose her before I'd even had a chance to prove myself.

 Then she asked for my name, a simple question, but I knew what it meant. If I told her, she'd reject me on the spot, without giving me a chance to fight for her love. She didn't know it, but she held all the power in that moment. And I—I was utterly powerless, standing on the edge of losing the one thing I had waited my whole life for.

 I begged her to come with me, to give me a chance to talk things through, and to my relief, she agreed. With no other choice, I took the lead, glancing back every few steps to make sure she was still following. She trailed behind me at a cautious distance, her wariness clear in every step. I couldn't shake the feeling that she might disappear on me at any moment, like a ghost fading into the mist.

 As we approached the pack house, her footsteps suddenly stopped. Alarmed, I turned around to find her frozen in place, her eyes locked on the building with an expression of sheer terror. My heart clenched at the sight—something terrible must have happened to her for her to react like this. I wanted nothing more than to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and shield her from whatever memories were haunting her. But as I took a step towards her, she backed away, putting even more distance between us. Once again, I was deprived of the chance to comfort her.

 Realizing I couldn't bring her to the pack house, I quickly turned in the direction of my mom's place. It was the only safe haven I could think of for her at that moment. As we walked, I noticed how her expression softened when she caught sight of my childhood home. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes—perhaps wonder or relief—as she took in the cozy little cottage with its welcoming charm. It was a stark contrast to the imposing pack house, and I was glad to see that it seemed to ease some of her fear.

 I guided her towards the porch, but just as we reached it, she slipped on one of the steps. Without thinking, I reached out to catch her, breaking her fall before she could hit the ground. The moment she was in my arms, it felt like heaven—having her so close, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. But the pleasure of holding her was short-lived. Almost immediately, she went ballistic, as if my touch had burned her. She started to panic, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she spiraled into another frenzy.

 I stood there, helpless, not knowing what to do. My mind raced, searching for some way to calm her down, but before I could act, the door to the cottage flew open. My mother, ever the protective force, pushed me aside and swept my mate into her warm, comforting embrace. As soon as she was in my mother's arms, the tears started to flow—profusely, uncontrollably.

 I was dumbstruck, rooted to the spot as I watched my mother usher her inside, closing the door firmly in my face. Typical. My mother had always been quick to shut me out, especially when she thought I was the problem. And maybe she was right. If I'd found my mate in such a state with someone else, I would have beaten the hell out of them without a second thought. Like mother, like son. Even as the alpha, I was still her child first and foremost. She never let me forget it, often reminding me that I could shove my title down my ass for all she cared. She was terrifying when she wanted to be, and I knew better than to cross her.

 I was grateful she was taking care of my mate, but it stung that she'd locked me out. I wanted—no, needed—to be there for her, to comfort her, to show her that she wasn't alone. But it was clear she was broken, and whoever had done this to her was going to pay in blood. I could feel the fury bubbling up inside me, a dark, violent rage that threatened to consume me. It wasn't good—not for me, and certainly not for her. I'd only end up scaring her more.

 So I made the difficult choice to leave her with my mom. I needed to cool off, to let the anger burn out before I saw her again. Shifting into my wolf form, I took off into the woods, running as fast and as far as I could. The wind rushed past me, carrying away some of my rage, but it wasn't enough. The thought of my mate suffering was too much to bear, and I knew that when the time came, I'd make sure the one responsible paid the ultimate price.

Leslie's POV:

 As the shock of discovering that Ann was my mate's mother settled over me, I found it impossible to hold any resentment against her. Her kindness, love, and genuine care were evident in every gesture and word. It was clear she wasn't putting on an act—she truly embodied those qualities. I could see her curiosity about my past, especially after learning that her son had done nothing to harm me. She must have sensed that something from my past had shaped me into who I had become, but she refrained from prying. Instead, when she noticed I didn't want to open up, she gently shifted the conversation to stories of her son's childhood.

 It was then that I learned his name was Damien. I couldn't help but think it was such a captivating name, and Elsie seemed to agree with me. I made a mental note to ask her about his wolf name, hoping it might give me additional insight into him.

 Ann shared with me her long-held desire for a daughter, and how, when Damien was born, she had him dressed in pink clothes she had bought in anticipation of a girl. They had chosen not to find out the baby's gender before birth, and Damien's father had been relieved to have a boy, joking about how he wouldn't have been able to handle two women in the house. I couldn't help but laugh heartily when she showed me a video of young Damien running around naked, adamant that he was a man who could bathe himself.

 She also shared pictures from his high school days, and I was astounded to see the handsome man I had just met as a former school nerd. It was almost hard to believe the transformation he had undergone from those awkward teenage years to the man before me now.

 After Ann made sure I ate everything on my plate from the meal she had so lovingly prepared, and I was completely stuffed, she showed me to my room for the night. To my amusement, it turned out to be Damien's childhood room—the very room he had slept in when he lived with his family. Ann assured me repeatedly that Damien wouldn't mind, reminding me that, as his mate, I had every right to be there. She even playfully pointed out that there might be some juicy information about him tucked away in the room.

 Although I was reluctant to agree, I accepted the offer to sleep in his old room. However, I decided against snooping through his belongings. Even though Ann had given me the green light, I didn't want to invade Damien's privacy without his explicit permission.

 The next morning, I woke up early and headed to the bathroom. As I entered, my gaze fell upon a sticker near the window. It was covered in youthful handwriting, which I quickly recognized as Damien's. It was a list titled "10 Things I Would Do When I Find My Mate." The list was filled with the most endearing and loving promises he had made for his future mate, and reading it brought a wave of emotions crashing over me.

 My heart ached as I realized that, despite all my brokenness, I was to be the mate he had dreamed of. From what I had learned from Ann and gathered from the note, I began to sense that Damien was a genuinely good person and a caring mate—so different from Jaden. It was a painful reminder that I, as someone so shattered, was his destined mate, though I couldn't help but feel unworthy.

 Not wanting to dwell on these thoughts, I rummaged through Damien's closet and found a pair of sweatpants, an old t-shirt, and a hoodie. They seemed to be from his teenage years and looked like they would fit me perfectly. The clothes he had given me the day before were too large, and I had to roll the shorts at least three times for them to stay up. After showering, I changed into these new clothes, which were much more comfortable.

 Determined to thank Ann for her hospitality, I decided to make breakfast. As I made my way downstairs to the kitchen, I was greeted by the sight of Damien cooking while rocking to the beat of the music in his ear pods. I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, and when he turned around and saw me, he was so startled that he let the egg he was holding fall, breaking it on the floor.

 I quickly offered to help, but Damien declined my assistance with a grin, declaring that he was cooking for both his mom and his mate. He beamed with pride as he said this, and I realized that cooking for his mate was one of the things on his list of ten promises. He kept glancing at me, and I noticed his gaze lingering on the clothes I was wearing. I apologized for borrowing them without his permission, but he simply waved it off, saying it was fine. He even encouraged me to keep them, mentioning that they suited me well and that he hardly wore them anyway.

 Just then, Ann came down the stairs, greeted me with a warm "Good morning," and chuckled as she said, "You should stay with me if all it takes for my busy son to come and cook for me is having you around." Her playful remark brought a smile to my face, and I could see how much she appreciated the company and the special attention Damien was giving her.