Desired By Three Alphas; Fated To One-Chapter 39: Apologies

Nathan’s POV

The door creaked open slowly, and I already knew who it was. His scent filled the room before I even saw him.

Father.

And beside him, the pack’s healer followed quietly, head slightly bowed as if unsure of his place.

I didn’t look up. I didn’t speak. I just picked up the bloodied towel Hailee had left on the nightstand and resumed wiping the dried blood off my side like they weren’t even there.

Father didn’t say a word at first. He just gave the healer a silent nod.

The man approached me cautiously, kneeling at my side.

I clenched my jaw, wanting to shove him away. But I’d already lost too much blood. I was in no shape to argue again, not today.

So I stayed still and let him work.

His hands moved efficiently—soft green light glowing faintly from his fingers as he mended the deeper wounds. The pain eased almost immediately, but it didn’t change the anger still burning in my chest.

The healer finished quickly, giving me a brief nod before quietly walking out, leaving just the two of us in the silence.

That’s when he spoke.

"I’m sorry," Father said, his voice low and full of regret.

I refused to meet his gaze.

I didn’t care for the softness in his voice—not when it came after everything.

I turned away, grabbing a clean shirt from my chair.

"Please leave," I muttered. "Before I say something that’ll make you punish me again. And this time, you might not stop until I’m dead."

Silence.

But I felt the shift in the room. Felt it in the way his breath hitched.

I glanced at him—just for a second—and saw it.

Fear.

Not fear of me.

But scared at the thought of me dying.

No doubt, he loved me. But the way he showed it... the way he handled things... it was all wrong.

But somehow I didn’t blame him because he learned all this from his father.

His father raised him to believe discipline equaled strength, and emotion was weakness.

Father sat down beside me, the old warrior in him trying to soften, but still wearing that mask of control.

"I’m sorry," he said again. "It was never meant to go this far."

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. My throat was tight, but I forced the words out anyway.

"I wish I wasn’t your son."

He stiffened.

"Not because you don’t love me," I continued, staring at the floor. "I know you do. But the way you show it... it’s messed up."

I finally looked at him.

"A normal father would’ve grounded me. Cut me off from training. Maybe even stripped a few privileges. But you?" I laughed bitterly. "You threw me into a ring with four armed warriors and told them not to go easy."

His lips parted, but I didn’t let him speak.

"You set me up to get wounded. To prove what? That I could survive it? That I deserved it?"

"I was trying to teach you—"

"Teach me what? That I’m never allowed to make mistakes? That love comes with punishment?"

I shook my head slowly. "You don’t even realize how much I’ve resented this since I was ten. Since the first time you made me fight a warrior twice my size because I broke a rule."

His face dropped then.

But I continued. "You don’t treat Clara this way." I spat in pain and looked away.

I didn’t know what I expected him to say. Maybe more silence. Maybe another excuse. But what I didn’t expect... was what he did next.

Father reached out, took both my hands in his. His grip was firm, but not commanding—just steady. And then, gently, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

It stunned me.

That was something he hadn’t done since I was a child.

I looked away immediately, my jaw tight, throat burning. I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want this moment to soften all the pain I’d carried for years.

"I’m sorry, Nathan," he said again, this time softer. "For all of it."

I said nothing, so he kept going.

"You’re right. I don’t treat Clara like this. I never have. But it’s not because I love her more."

He squeezed my hands tighter. "It’s because I love you more. You’re my son. My heir. My pride. And my curse has been loving you so much that I thought molding you into steel was the only way to keep you safe in this world."

I blinked, my jaw clenching harder as I held back the sudden sting in my eyes.

"I know I’ve failed you in the way I show that love," he said. "But make no mistake, Nathan—you are the one thing in this world I treasure the most. I have never, not even for a moment, stopped being proud of you."

And the worst part?

I knew he was telling the truth.

As twisted and messed up as it was, that man loved me more than anything.

Even if he didn’t know how to show it right.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My thoughts were drifting again... to Hailee, who was still hiding in the bathroom.

I didn’t know if Father didn’t smell her... or if he had and simply chose not to say anything about it.

Either way, his next words answered the question for me.

"I’ll learn," he said after a moment, voice low. "To be a better father. I promise you that, son."

Then he stood up, adjusted the sleeve of his jacket, and turned to leave.

But just before stepping out, he paused at the door and said without looking back, "Next time, you can tell Hailee she doesn’t need to hide in the bathroom."

And then... he stepped out and closed the door behind him.

I wanted to go open the bathroom door, but then... it opened.

Hailee peeked out, her eyes wide with worry, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to come out or disappear completely.

"It’s fine." I assured her.

She stepped out fully and shut the door behind her. She took a few steps toward me, her arms crossed tight over her chest.

Neither of us knew what to say.

But then she broke the quiet.

"Do you... do you still need help?" she asked gently.

I didn’t need help. Not really. The healer had done enough.

But I nodded anyway.

Because the truth was... I just wanted her touch again.

Without a word, she picked up the towel again and stepped closer.

Her eyes held mine for a moment, searching, asking for silent permission.

I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t need to.

She reached out and gently peeled off my shirt, her fingers brushing my skin as she did.

My breath caught in my chest.

Then slowly, carefully, she ran the damp cloth across my chest.

Down my torso.

Across the curve of my abs.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. Her touch was light—almost too light. But I felt every single brush of that towel like fire licking over raw nerves.

She glanced up at me as she worked, her expression unreadable.

"I’m sorry," I whispered suddenly, my voice low and tight.

She blinked. "For what?"

I swallowed hard, not able to control it. "For this." Then I leaned down and sealed our lips.

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