The Howlcrest Werewolves Legacy
Chapter 21: The Thoughtful Action

Chapter 21: The Thoughtful Action

"What did you do?"

Tristan finally glanced at me, a slow turn of his head. His gaze burned. "What I had to."

Before I could respond, he was out of the car.

My mother’s eyes darted to him—then to me—as I scrambled out after him, the leather jacket still hanging off my frame like a neon sign that screamed I spent the night at the Alpha’s estate.

My father’s gaze locked on the jacket, and the muscle in his jaw ticked.

"Olivia," my mother said, her voice clipped and brittle. "Explain."

Explain what? The fact that I tried to steal money last night? That I got caught by an Alpha prince who now thinks I’m his mate? That I’m standing here, in his clothes, with absolutely no clue how to get out of this situation?

I opened my mouth—nothing came out.

Tristan stepped beside me, his presence a solid wall of heat and dominance, and the tension in the air thickened.

"Is there a problem?" His voice was smooth but edged—like a knife wrapped in silk.

My father’s glare shifted from me to him. "I don’t see why you’re involved, Your Highness," he said, his tone formal but laced with disdain.

Tristan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. "Because Olivia is mine."

My mother’s sharp inhale cracked the air between us.

Oh. My. God.

I stiffened. "I am not—"

He cut me off, his voice dropping an octave. "My mate."

The word hung between us like smoke—thick, inescapable.

My mother’s lips parted in shock, but it was my father’s reaction that hit hardest. His face darkened—not with surprise, but with something colder. Calculation.

I knew that look.

He was already thinking, already planning. A daughter bonded to the Alpha prince wasn’t a scandal—it was an opportunity.

"Olivia has always been headstrong," my mother said after a beat, a forced smile curving her mouth. "I’m sure she didn’t mean to cause any... confusion."

I wanted to scream. Confusion?

I literally jumped out of his bathroom window to escape this very moment.

Tristan didn’t smile. His gaze stayed on my father like a wolf locking onto prey. "I wasn’t confused."

A pulse of fear lit my father’s eyes—but he hid it well.

"Why did you bring my dog?" I finally snapped, redirecting the storm.

"He—" My mother’s nostrils flared as she looked at Tristan. "—insisted we bring Boyd here. Said there was an appointment."

So he really did blackmail them into bringing my dog.

I looked at Tristan, my heart hammering. "Did you threaten them?"

He tilted his head—almost thoughtful. "I persuaded them."

My father’s fingers tightened around Boyd’s fur. "It’s not every day the Alpha prince pays a visit to your home," he muttered. "We didn’t have a choice."

"There’s always a choice," Tristan countered smoothly, "but you made the right one."

The silent battle between them crackled, a war waged through narrowed eyes and clenched jaws.

Boyd whimpered softly, breaking the standoff.

I stepped forward, reaching for him. "Give me my dog," I said, my voice steady, but my hands were trembling.

My father didn’t let go at first—not until Tristan’s gaze flicked to him. Then, slowly, Boyd was passed to me, his large, shaggy body warm against my chest.

"Let’s go inside," Tristan said, placing a hand on the small of my back—just a brush of contact, but enough to remind everyone exactly who was in charge here.

I stiffened but didn’t pull away.

I couldn’t.

Not when my parents were watching. Not when the Alpha prince was claiming me so publicly.

As we moved toward the clinic doors, I felt the weight of my mother’s stare and the sharp edge of my father’s silence.

I wasn’t just a girl trying to save her dog anymore.

I was a pawn in a much bigger game.

And Tristan—the Alpha prince who spoke of mates and destiny like they were absolute truths—was the one holding the board.

The vet’s clinic smelled like antiseptic and wet fur, a mix that somehow felt both sterile and sad. Boyd whined softly from the examination table, his big brown eyes drooping with exhaustion, and I stroked his head, whispering nonsense words to keep him calm.

It wasn’t as bad as I feared.

Just a minor infection—the kind that would’ve gotten much worse if left untreated—but thankfully, Tristan had booked the appointment early enough to catch it. The vet prescribed some medication and vitamins, and I felt my heart loosen for the first time all morning.

Relief.

Real, pure, bone-deep relief.

Until the bill came.

It wasn’t a small amount—not something I could pay off with the crumpled bills in my pocket. My father didn’t even pretend to reach for his wallet. He just stood there, arms crossed, jaw tight, and eyes cold. My mother didn’t move either—her lips pursed like she was tasting something bitter.

I knew this routine. I knew it too well.

They wouldn’t pay.

They never did.

Not for me. Not for anything I cared about.

My throat tightened as the silence dragged.

Then Tristan stepped forward, pulling a sleek, black card from his wallet and placing it on the counter without a word. The receptionist’s eyes widened slightly, but Tristan didn’t spare her a glance. His focus was entirely on me.

"Done," he said softly.

The vet handed me a bag of medications, along with supplements and a few toys for Boyd—things I hadn’t asked for but apparently needed. I looked down at the bag, my heart wobbling unexpectedly.

It was too much.

The way he paid like it was nothing, like it wasn’t a burden or an obligation—but something he simply wanted to do.

For me.

Boyd’s tail thumped against the table, and I blinked back the sudden sting in my eyes.

No. Don’t cry.

Not in front of him. Not in front of them.

But it was too late—the tears pushed forward, and a small, broken sound slipped from my throat.

I tried to turn away, to hide it, but Tristan was already there.