Three

Five years later 

"Jermaine, Jace! Pick up your stuff. Mommy needs to head out soon," I called from the kitchen as I wiped my hands on a towel. 

Silence greeted me, and I knew my boys were up to something mischievous. 

I paused, waiting for the sound of scampering feet or the usual choruses of "Just a minute, Mommy!" When nothing came, my motherly instincts kicked in, and I set the towel down, heading toward their room.

The faint sound of giggles stopped me just outside their door. Pressing my ear closer, I heard Jermaine’s whispered words. “No, use more blue. It’s her favorite color.”

Curiosity piqued, I pushed the door open just a crack. They sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by paints, brushes, and colored paper. Jermaine held up a painting—if you could call it that—a jumble of colors resembling a clown.

I bit back a laugh and silently stepped back. 

My heart swelled as I leaned against the wall, letting the moment sink in. Despite all the hardships, my love for my sons was boundless. They were my reason for pushing forward every day.

I was devoted to them, and while raising them without their father hadn’t been easy—especially with Jermaine’s weak heart—I managed. 

Life here in the Wild Fangs pack was nothing like my childhood pack. This was a metropolis where no one cared to ask questions. It suited me just fine. After everything I had been through, remaining unknown was a blessing.

I took the day off to check out schools for Jermaine and Jace. My boys were four now, growing too fast for my liking. I wanted the best for them, no matter the cost.

A buzz from my phone pulled me out of my thoughts. It was a text from Eve, my roommate and friend.

“I’m five minutes away.”

My heart warmed at the thought of her. Trusting people again wasn’t easy after my past betrayals. I became jaded about friendships and avoided them. But I knew I couldn’t go through life alone. When I started working at the accounting firm after having the twins, I kept to myself, always wearing a veil to avoid recognition. People thought I was odd, but no one cared.

Eve, who worked in my department, was the only one who tried to connect with me, though I kept pushing her away—until Jermaine’s emergency.

During those nights spent in the intensive care unit and mornings stumbling into work exhausted, Eve proved through her actions and words that she could be trusted. She was loyal, and I had someone I could call a friend for the first time in years.

Jermaine and Jace came bounding into the living room. Jermaine held up the painting I had spied on earlier.

“Look, Mommy! It’s you!”

The moment I saw it, I almost burst out laughing but quickly held back. I remembered how hurt the boys had been the first time I laughed at one of their gifts, so I made it a rule to always accept their creations with genuine excitement.

I crouched down to their level, taking the mess in my hands. “Oh, wow! This is amazing. You’re such great artists!”

Jace clapped his hands. Jermaine beamed.

The doorbell rang, and Eve stepped in, taking one look at the painting and struggling to hold back her laughter. “Wow, Savannah. I didn’t know we had Picasso-level talent in the house.”

“Don’t encourage them,” I whispered, setting the painting on the table.

Eve grinned, then leaned closer. “Don’t take long; I have a date with my man,” she said, winking at me. I shook my head.

Eve was secretly dating one of the firm’s department heads, whose wife had passed earlier that year. It wasn’t about his relationship with her or how soon he’d moved on—it was the guilt he carried for falling in love with her the moment he first saw her.

As I prepared to leave, the boys ran to the door, listing a series of demands. “Bring back cookies!”

 “And a truck!”

 “Don’t forget apple juice!”

I waved at them and headed out the door.

The first two schools I visited were underwhelming. The third school, however, caught my attention. It was well-maintained and offered programs that seemed perfect for my boys. It was pretty expensive, but I would make it work. They deserved the best.

Aside from Jermaine's hospital bills, I was managing well. The accounting firm operated directly under the pack government, offering a decent salary and additional job benefits.

As I approached the reception, a little girl called, “Mommy!”

I turned, startled, to see her running toward me. She was stunning—the child anyone would want to scoop up immediately. Her ash-blonde hair, identical to mine, was tied in pigtails, and her green eyes sparkled with excitement. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around my waist.

“Mommy, you’re back!”

Her statement was odd, but we could easily pass as mother and daughter with our similar hair and eye color. Still cautious about misunderstandings, I gently set her down and knelt at her level.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not—” I began, but she was already running toward a parked black Jeep.

“Daddy! Mommy’s here!” she shouted, waving excitedly.

I stayed rooted in place, smiling politely, thinking her father and I could have a good laugh about the innocent mix-up. Maybe he’d even show me a picture of her birth mother so we could compare and see if we truly looked as similar as his daughter seemed to think.

But every playful thought evaporated when the car door opened, and someone stepped out. 

He was tall—easily over six feet—with a commanding aura that seemed to make the air around him still. The confidence in his movement screamed authority. He was dressed casually in a white shirt with the top two buttons undone. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes, but I felt their weight before he removed them. He locked the car and turned to his daughter before looking up.

When our eyes met, he removed his sunglasses, and his mouth fell open in shock as though he had just seen a ghost.

Was it his alpha aura or the sudden nervousness I felt? His face seemed familiar, though I couldn’t place it. My wolf stirred, and a bond snapped into place, flushing warmth through my neck.

“Sasha?”

He closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm. “Sasha, you’re alive,” he whispered.

One thing became clear: My fated mate was the Alpha hunk standing beside me. Yet, he called me Sasha, and his daughter believed I was her mother.

“I think you're making a mistake. My name’s not Sasha—”

His reaction wasn’t what I expected. His frown darkened to something almost lethal as he grabbed my arm again, but his closeness sent tingles racing through me.

He cut me off, whispering. “Don’t play games with me. You’ve been gone for months. How dare you show up like this and act like you don’t know me?”

“I don’t know you,” I protested, stepping back.

He grabbed my arm again, and when my boobs brushed against the hard planes of his body, I felt a shockwave 

“Enough with the act. You faked your death, left me, left her”—he gestured to the little girl—“and now you think you can just come back and feign amnesia?”

My throat tightened, silencing the scream I desperately wanted to unleash—to tell him I wasn’t who he thought I was. But the bond—oh, the freaking bond—had to show up and turn me into its puppet.

The little girl held my hand. “Mommy, don’t leave again,” she pleaded.

My heart twisted. “Sweetheart, I’m not your—”

“Enough! You’ve done enough damage already. You’re coming with me,” her father snapped.

“What? No, I’m not—let me go!” I struggled, but his strength was unyielding.

Before I could react, this man—who my heart inexplicably longed for—lifted me. I squirmed and pounded against his back, demanding to be put down, but his strength made it clear he wasn’t a man who accepted no for an answer.