Four

Savannah

Five Years Later

"Jermaine! Jace!" I called from the kitchen, drying my hands on a towel. "Pick up your things. Mommy has to go out soon."

No answer.

My pulse quickened. I abandoned the dishcloth and sprinted to their room, already imagining the worst. The silence was suspicious. My boys were never quiet unless something chaotic was happening.

When I threw the door open, my heart stopped.

Jermaine lay on the floor, eyes half-closed.

“Jermaine!” I flew to his side.

Jace was hovering over him with the oxygen mask in hand.

“I was helping,” he said, eyes wide. “Like you do when he can’t breathe.”

Jermaine groaned and blinked. He seemed fine.

“Mommy, you get worried so much.”

His twin agreed and they laughed.

Relief crashed into me. I pulled them both close. My hands were still shaking. The dimples on their cheeks deepened as they chuckled.

My chest caved in. Little Rascals.

The floor that I had cleaned about an hour ago was surrounded by smears of paint, glitter glue, and torn paper. Jermaine held up a colorful disaster of a portrait. It looked like a unicorn met a thunderstorm and then exploded.

“Mommy!” Jermaine waved a painting like a trophy. “It’s you!”

My lips twitched. I took it from his hands, carefully inspecting the blob of color and enthusiasm. “Wow. This is… stunning.”

“And this is Eve,” Jace said, holding another painting and it was war not to burst out laughing.

Despite the necessary self-exile from my pack, the pain, hospital visits, and the stress, the boys were my world. No one would ever love them like I did.

Raising them alone hadn’t been easy. Jermaine had a heart condition, and I lived in constant fear. But we’d made it. Somehow.

The Wild Fangs Pack was fast-paced and crowded. I liked it that way. No one recognized my face or asked questions. I wore veils sometimes, or sunglasses and hats. People at the bank where I worked whispered that I was eccentric, but no one cared enough to dig deeper.

That suited me just fine.

A buzz from my phone snapped me out of my thoughts.

Eve: Five minutes away.

I exhaled in relief. My roommate and colleague, Eve, was the only person I trusted. She had shown up for me when no one else did when Jermaine was at his worst when I had no money left and broke down in the bathroom at work.

The doorbell rang and Jace presented Eve’s painting to her.

Eve stepped in and smirked when she saw the painting. “I see I’ve walked into an art gallery.”

“Don’t encourage them,” I whispered as I shut the door. I arched a brow. “Date night?”

She shrugged.

Eve was dating our boss in secret—a man who had loved her long before his wife passed, and hated himself for it. Tonight, she was sneaking off to their usual hidden spot.

Just then, the boys dashed in, excitement bursting from every corner.

“I want apple juice and cookies, and the big playground school!” Jace shouted, jumping in place.

Jermaine tugged at my sleeve, calmer as always. “And a library, Mommy. The one with the animal books. Please?”

I laughed, brushing their curls back. “So, toys, sugar, and stories. Got it.”

I kissed their cheeks, grabbed my purse, and slipped out the door before their demands multiplied.

The school search was daunting, especially because I needed one with good health facilities. I didn’t have the energy to separate the boys. The first two schools were okay, but not exactly what I was aiming for.

The third school was perfect—great reviews, kind staff, a qualified nurse, and a clean playground. Expensive, but worth it.

I was walking out of the reception and slowed to look at a wall filled with finger-painted art. One painting reminded me of the boys' earlier masterpiece—explosively chaotic.

“Mommy!”

A little girl crashed on me. I stumbled.

My hands hovered, unsure what to do.

Her arms squeezed tight around my waist, and her grey eyes looked up, beaming. “You’re back!”

“Sweetheart…” I hesitated, gently untangling her arms. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

She tilted her head. “You’re Mommy.”

Before I could say another word, she turned and sprinted toward the parking lot.

“Daddy! Mommy’s here!”

Oh hell.

I turned slowly, already preparing to explain to some frazzled father that his daughter had mistaken me for her mother.

A tall male with a commanding presence stepped out of a black Jeep. His shirt clung to his chest, the top buttons open. When he removed his sunglasses, his gaze hit me like a shockwave.

Everything stopped.

He stared at me like I was a ghost.

My body locked and my wolf screamed inside me and a bond snapped.

His lips parted.

“Sasha?”

What?

I took a step back.

His voice and scent stirred my wolf. Heat crawled up the back of my neck.

My head spun.

“Sasha,” he said again, his voice lower, hoarse. He walked straight toward me, ignoring the world.

“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. “You’re mistaken. My name is—”

He grabbed my wrist, and his eyes scanned my face like he didn’t trust what he was seeing.

“You’re alive,” he murmured. “You’ve been…. alive?”

My heartbeat doubled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please let me go.”

His fingers tightened firmly. “what the hell, Sasha? Have you lost your mind?”

“Sir,” I said through gritted teeth. “Back off.”

I noticed the confusion in his eyes. They were so obvious that for a moment I felt sorry for him. But his confusion was replaced by anger and his voice darkened dangerously.

“Cut the act. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’ve got a hell of a lot to explain—to me, to Adelaide, and to everyone who thought you were dead.”

What the hell?

The little girl ran to us, smiling. “Mommy, are you coming home now?”

This was becoming scary.

“Tell her to stop,” I snapped. “I’m not her mother. I don’t even know you.”

He took a breath like he was trying to calm down—but his jaw ticked, and his grip didn’t loosen.

“Enough, Sasha. You've done enough damage.”

“I’m not Sasha!” I cried.

His gaze dropped to my stomach, to my trembling hands, then locked back onto my face.

Without warning, he wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me off the ground.

My legs kicked. “Let go of me! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Put me down!” I hit his shoulder hard. He didn’t flinch.

“Mommy’s coming home!” the little girl squealed behind us.

My body trembled. My heart thudded wildly like it was trying to break free from my chest.

Beneath the panic, outrage, and disbelief, an aching warmth bloomed in my chest, curling around my ribs like ivy. The bond made it hard to breathe and harder to think.

What the hell was happening?

I didn’t know this man.

I didn’t know his daughter.

Who the hell was Sasha—and why did she wear my face?

Was this some twisted joke?

And most terrifying of all, why was I meeting my fated mate in the weirdest circumstances?