A flutter of wings and distant laughter blended into the rustling trees. Elena had almost reached the edge of the old pack trail again when she heard it.A soft, broken sob.Faint… but unmistakable.Her brows furrowed. She paused, scanning the grove ahead.Another sniffle.Then a sharp, hiccupped cry.Without a second thought, Elena turned toward the sound, her steps quickening. The trail curved off the main path into a clearing she hadn’t walked in years—long grass, uneven ground, patches of sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy.And there, half-hidden behind a wild rose bush, sat a little girl.She couldn’t have been more than five.Her small frame was curled inward, arms hugging her knee, which was scraped and bloodied. Tears streaked her dusty cheeks. Her hair was a mess of caramel-brown curls tangled with petals and leaves. A tiny yellow sundress clung to her as she rocked back and forth, trying to muffle her sobs.Elena froze.Not in fear—but something else. Something that
“Dawn, where were you? I told you not to wander off—” Genevieve’s voice cut off the second she opened the door. Her breath hitched, her eyes locked on Elena like she was seeing a ghost. “You,” she whispered, her hand flying to her chest. “No… it can’t be.” Elena didn’t speak. She stood frozen on the porch, Dawn clinging tightly to her side, one little arm wrapped around Elena’s thigh. “Mommy,” Dawn said, voice small, “I fell. She helped me.” Genevieve took a step forward, blinking as if trying to wake up from a dream. “Elena?” Elena gave a shaky nod. “Hi.” Genevieve’s knees nearly buckled. She caught herself on the doorframe, breath heaving. “I—” she laughed softly, disbelieving. “I used to wonder if I made you up.” “You didn’t,” Elena said. Her voice came out quieter than she expected, rough around the edges. “I remember you.” Genevieve’s gaze flicked to Dawn, then back to Elena, emotion flooding her features. “You’re real. And you’re here.” Elena swallowed. “She
Elena sat quietly at the small kitchen table, her fingers curled around the warm mug Genevieve had set in front of her. Steam rose gently from the tea—chamomile, sweetened with honey—and in the living room, Dawn hummed softly to herself as she arranged her stuffed animals into a circle on the rug.Genevieve moved about the kitchen in practiced silence, her motions fluid but a little tense, like she was trying not to disturb something delicate. Maybe it was the past. Maybe it was Elena.After a while, Genevieve slid into the chair across from her and clasped her hands together, elbows on the table. Her expression shifted, softening, though her eyes were watchful.“You’ve grown into a strong woman, Elena.”The sound of her name spoken with such warmth made something twist in Elena’s chest.She nodded once. “And you’ve become a mother.”Genevieve smiled at that, a real one that touched her eyes. “Best thing I’ve ever done.” She glanced toward the living room. “She’s everything to me. But
Genevieve gently pulled her hand away, wiping at the corners of her eyes with a soft laugh. “Sorry,” she said, sniffling. “Didn’t mean to get all teary on you.”Elena exhaled slowly, her own chest still aching from everything just spoken between them. “It’s okay,” she said. “I think we both needed this.”A beat passed. Then Elena glanced over her shoulder, where Dawn was still humming, now cradling one of her stuffed animals against her chest like it was a baby.“She looks like you,” Elena said suddenly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Same eyes. Same stubborn little nose.”Genevieve blinked, and her entire face brightened like someone had flipped on a light inside her.“Really?” she asked, almost bashful. “I always hoped people would see it.”“She’s got your expression too,” Elena added. “That proud, little fire-breather look. Like she’ll grow up and burn down any system that tries to contain her.”Genevieve chuckled. “Oh, she’s already got that spark.” Her eyes flicked toward he
The silence was shattered by a deafening crash.The front door slammed open so violently it tore from one hinge, smacking against the interior wall. A guttural growl, low and feral, rumbled through the house like thunder.Genevieve shot to her feet. Elena gasped, her heart stuttering—until her eyes met his.Asher.His figure was a blur of black fury and gold eyes, his chest heaving, jaw clenched. He stood framed in the doorway, muscles tight, rage crackling from him like a live wire. He wasn’t just a man—he was her Alpha, her mate, her wolf barely contained beneath his skin.“Elena,” he rasped. The sound was both a prayer and a demand.She could barely lift her head. Her body, already weakened from the relentless heat, sagged against the chair.But he was there in an instant.Asher crossed the room in three powerful strides. He didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. He scooped her into his arms like she weighed nothing, cradling her with a gentleness that contrasted the storm in his eyes. The m
Her back arched under his hands, a low whimper slipping past her lips as his mouth claimed hers in a desperate kiss that made the air crackle. The second their lips met, the bond roared to life. His heat met hers like flame to gasoline—wild, consuming, instant.Elena clung to him, every nerve ending raw. She didn’t know where her need ended and his began. It didn’t matter. All she knew was that her body felt like it was unraveling, and Asher was the only thing keeping her grounded.They crashed into the bedroom, half-stumbling, half-flying. The air was thick with her scent, laced with sweat, hunger, and something deeper—something sacred. He placed her on the bed gently, reverently, like she might shatter under his fingers.She didn’t. She burned.“Asher,” she gasped, reaching for him as she writhed against the cool sheets, the fabric brushing her skin like a thousand feathers. “Please. I can’t— I need you— I need—”He hovered above her, eyes wild with hunger, but hands trembling with
Elena’s Point of View With a slow drag of my marker, I drew a straight line across the wall, then stepped back to look at it. Two thousand one hundred and ninety days. Almost six years had passed since my parents vanished—more like abandoned me. I wasn’t even sure why I kept track of the days. Maybe deep down, I hoped they would return someday. When I was twelve, I longed for them like any child would, but now, at nearly eighteen, I no longer wanted them back. Soon, I could leave this place forever. I never got an explanation for why they disappeared, though the most obvious reason was me—being born the weakest of the pack. Still, that didn’t justify leaving their own child behind, especially in the hands of people who despised me. Each day brought a fresh form of cruelty, whether humiliation or physical pain. And believe me, pain was always their first choice. It didn’t matter who started it; someone would, and another would finish it. The only person in the entire pack who n
Asher's POV "Eliminate them. Show no mercy." My voice was calm but firm as I stared at the two rogues who had foolishly crossed into my land. Terror filled their eyes, but it was too late for regret. "Yes, Alpha," Grayson, one of my most capable warriors, responded before I turned away, already losing interest. I had wasted enough time dealing with intruders. My mother, Margot, was waiting for me, and I hated making her wait. Since my father, Henry, passed away, she hadn’t been the same. Truthfully, neither had I. His death changed everything. Not long after, my mother fell gravely ill, barely able to leave her bed. I missed the days when she would wake up early, smiling as she prepared breakfast for the entire pack. Losing my father left a hole in my heart, making me even more ruthless than before. But my mother’s suffering—watching her waste away—fueled an anger in me I couldn’t contain. People say when a mate dies, the one left behind experiences unbearable pain, sometime
Her back arched under his hands, a low whimper slipping past her lips as his mouth claimed hers in a desperate kiss that made the air crackle. The second their lips met, the bond roared to life. His heat met hers like flame to gasoline—wild, consuming, instant.Elena clung to him, every nerve ending raw. She didn’t know where her need ended and his began. It didn’t matter. All she knew was that her body felt like it was unraveling, and Asher was the only thing keeping her grounded.They crashed into the bedroom, half-stumbling, half-flying. The air was thick with her scent, laced with sweat, hunger, and something deeper—something sacred. He placed her on the bed gently, reverently, like she might shatter under his fingers.She didn’t. She burned.“Asher,” she gasped, reaching for him as she writhed against the cool sheets, the fabric brushing her skin like a thousand feathers. “Please. I can’t— I need you— I need—”He hovered above her, eyes wild with hunger, but hands trembling with
The silence was shattered by a deafening crash.The front door slammed open so violently it tore from one hinge, smacking against the interior wall. A guttural growl, low and feral, rumbled through the house like thunder.Genevieve shot to her feet. Elena gasped, her heart stuttering—until her eyes met his.Asher.His figure was a blur of black fury and gold eyes, his chest heaving, jaw clenched. He stood framed in the doorway, muscles tight, rage crackling from him like a live wire. He wasn’t just a man—he was her Alpha, her mate, her wolf barely contained beneath his skin.“Elena,” he rasped. The sound was both a prayer and a demand.She could barely lift her head. Her body, already weakened from the relentless heat, sagged against the chair.But he was there in an instant.Asher crossed the room in three powerful strides. He didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate. He scooped her into his arms like she weighed nothing, cradling her with a gentleness that contrasted the storm in his eyes. The m
Genevieve gently pulled her hand away, wiping at the corners of her eyes with a soft laugh. “Sorry,” she said, sniffling. “Didn’t mean to get all teary on you.”Elena exhaled slowly, her own chest still aching from everything just spoken between them. “It’s okay,” she said. “I think we both needed this.”A beat passed. Then Elena glanced over her shoulder, where Dawn was still humming, now cradling one of her stuffed animals against her chest like it was a baby.“She looks like you,” Elena said suddenly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Same eyes. Same stubborn little nose.”Genevieve blinked, and her entire face brightened like someone had flipped on a light inside her.“Really?” she asked, almost bashful. “I always hoped people would see it.”“She’s got your expression too,” Elena added. “That proud, little fire-breather look. Like she’ll grow up and burn down any system that tries to contain her.”Genevieve chuckled. “Oh, she’s already got that spark.” Her eyes flicked toward he
Elena sat quietly at the small kitchen table, her fingers curled around the warm mug Genevieve had set in front of her. Steam rose gently from the tea—chamomile, sweetened with honey—and in the living room, Dawn hummed softly to herself as she arranged her stuffed animals into a circle on the rug.Genevieve moved about the kitchen in practiced silence, her motions fluid but a little tense, like she was trying not to disturb something delicate. Maybe it was the past. Maybe it was Elena.After a while, Genevieve slid into the chair across from her and clasped her hands together, elbows on the table. Her expression shifted, softening, though her eyes were watchful.“You’ve grown into a strong woman, Elena.”The sound of her name spoken with such warmth made something twist in Elena’s chest.She nodded once. “And you’ve become a mother.”Genevieve smiled at that, a real one that touched her eyes. “Best thing I’ve ever done.” She glanced toward the living room. “She’s everything to me. But
“Dawn, where were you? I told you not to wander off—” Genevieve’s voice cut off the second she opened the door. Her breath hitched, her eyes locked on Elena like she was seeing a ghost. “You,” she whispered, her hand flying to her chest. “No… it can’t be.” Elena didn’t speak. She stood frozen on the porch, Dawn clinging tightly to her side, one little arm wrapped around Elena’s thigh. “Mommy,” Dawn said, voice small, “I fell. She helped me.” Genevieve took a step forward, blinking as if trying to wake up from a dream. “Elena?” Elena gave a shaky nod. “Hi.” Genevieve’s knees nearly buckled. She caught herself on the doorframe, breath heaving. “I—” she laughed softly, disbelieving. “I used to wonder if I made you up.” “You didn’t,” Elena said. Her voice came out quieter than she expected, rough around the edges. “I remember you.” Genevieve’s gaze flicked to Dawn, then back to Elena, emotion flooding her features. “You’re real. And you’re here.” Elena swallowed. “She
A flutter of wings and distant laughter blended into the rustling trees. Elena had almost reached the edge of the old pack trail again when she heard it.A soft, broken sob.Faint… but unmistakable.Her brows furrowed. She paused, scanning the grove ahead.Another sniffle.Then a sharp, hiccupped cry.Without a second thought, Elena turned toward the sound, her steps quickening. The trail curved off the main path into a clearing she hadn’t walked in years—long grass, uneven ground, patches of sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy.And there, half-hidden behind a wild rose bush, sat a little girl.She couldn’t have been more than five.Her small frame was curled inward, arms hugging her knee, which was scraped and bloodied. Tears streaked her dusty cheeks. Her hair was a mess of caramel-brown curls tangled with petals and leaves. A tiny yellow sundress clung to her as she rocked back and forth, trying to muffle her sobs.Elena froze.Not in fear—but something else. Something that
“You’re really out here.”The voice halted Elena mid-step.She turned slowly.Vivian.Of all people, she hadn’t expected—hadn’t *wanted*—to see her. Not here. Not now.Vivian looked nothing like the smug, glossy girl from their past. Her honey-blonde hair hung limp around her shoulders. Her eyes, once sharp with mockery, were red-rimmed and swollen. Even her posture—slouched, hands trembling—betrayed a vulnerability that didn’t belong to the girl who used to throw cruel words like knives.“Elena…” Vivian's voice cracked. “Please. I—just let me talk.”Elena stared, uncertain. Her heart had started thudding in a strange, unfamiliar rhythm—not fear, not quite anger… but something heavier. Something older.Vivian took a tentative step closer. “I know I don’t deserve your time. But I had to see you. I *needed* to say something.”Elena didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her throat had closed up the moment Vivian’s name had burst into her world again.Vivian bit her lip and swallowed hard. “Conno
"You don’t have to do this today, Elena," Lena said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she rested her hand on Elena’s back. "No one’s forcing you.""That’s just it," Elena murmured, her eyes fixed on the doorknob as if it were a weapon. "No one is. And maybe that’s what makes it worse.""Worse?""Because if someone told me I had to do it, I could fight back. I could rebel. But this… this is my choice." Her fingers twitched, almost reaching for the knob before retreating. "And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to make it."Lena stepped in front of her, crouching just enough to meet Elena’s eyes. "You’re strong enough. You survived everything they did. You’re here. That door? It’s just wood. What’s behind it isn’t bigger than you."Elena gave a shaky laugh. "You make it sound so easy.""It’s not," Lena said, serious now. "But it’s not impossible."The silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the wind brushing gently against the windows. Elena stared down at her bare
“I’ve missed three council sessions, delayed the joint patrol drills, and put off signing the land expansion request forms for two weeks.”Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Should I keep going?”“No.” Asher met his eyes. “I know. I’ve been off my game.”Grayson softened. “You’ve been in love.”The admission settled between them like a dropped stone in still water.Asher didn’t deny it.“I wasn’t expecting it to hit this hard,” he admitted, voice low. “It’s like... I breathe easier around her. Everything feels sharper when she’s near—and dull when she’s not.”Grayson’s expression was unreadable for a moment, then he sighed and set the map down. “Look, I get it. The bond’s intense. I felt it when I met my mate, too. You want to spend every moment with her. You should. But you’re still Alpha.”“I know.” The words were heavy. “I know, Gray.”Grayson folded his arms. “We’ve got more than just treaties to worry about. There’s something else.”Asher’s attention snapped up.“The Crest Moon Pack.”A