Rosalee's Point of View
As I stare at the man standing in the hotel lobby, his presence seems to command the very air around him. He’s beautiful, dark hair framing a chiseled face, his piercing eyes locked onto mine. But it’s not his appearance that has me frozen in place.
It’s the word he just uttered.
“Mate.”
No. No, I must have heard wrong. He couldn’t have said mate. My heart pounds erratically in my chest, and I feel the blood drain from my face. For two years, I had convinced myself that I would never hear that word, and I had prayed, even begged, the Moon Goddess to make it so.
But now, standing here, I can’t deny the truth. The way his eyes burn with recognition, the magnetic pull I feel toward him, it’s undeniable. He is my mate.
Suddenly, I’m not in the hotel lobby anymore. I’m back in the Silver Ridge Pack, two years ago, on the morning of my sixteenth birthday.
I remember waking up that day with a strange mix of excitement and hope. I knew I wouldn’t be getting a party or even a simple acknowledgment of my birthday. The pack treated me as less than nothing, a burden they were forced to endure. But that didn’t matter to me.
What mattered was that I’d finally be getting my wolf. I’d waited for this moment for as long as I could remember. With my wolf, I would finally have the strength to stand up for myself, the chance to escape this hellhole. And maybe, just maybe, I would find my mate, the one person destined to love and protect me.
That hope had carried me through years of pain and rejection. But the reality of that day had been far from what I’d dreamed.
As I had expected, my sixteenth birthday began like any other day at the Silver Ridge Pack, with endless chores and little acknowledgment of my existence. I scrubbed floors, carried supplies, and completed the menial tasks assigned to me without complaint. It was my way of surviving in a place where I was treated as less than human.
But then, everything changed.
A mandatory pack meeting was called, and the order spread quickly. Everyone was to gather in front of the pack house. My stomach twisted with unease as I joined the crowd, the murmurs of my packmates creating a low hum of tension in the air.
The Alpha and Luna stood on the steps of the pack house, their imposing figures towering over the gathered wolves. Their expressions were unreadable, but the weight of their gaze made me feel small and exposed.
“Rosalee,” the Alpha’s voice boomed, silencing the crowd. “Come forward.”
My heart leaped into my throat as I stepped hesitantly through the sea of pack members. For a brief, fleeting moment, a flicker of hope ignited within me. Could they possibly be acknowledging my birthday? Was it too much to dream that they might wish me well, even if just for show?
But that hope was snuffed out the moment the Alpha spoke again.
“Shift.”
I blinked, confusion washing over me. “I, I don’t understand,” I stammered, my voice barely audible. “Why do I have to shift in front of everyone?”
The Alpha’s face darkened, his frustration evident. “Do not question me, girl. Shift. Now.”
I shook my head, panic rising in my chest. “Please, I don’t...”
His growl cut through my protest like a blade, and I felt the crushing weight of his Alpha command slam into me. “Shift.”
My knees buckled as the command took hold, leaving me no choice but to obey. The crowd’s eyes bore into me, their judgmental stares adding to the humiliation coursing through me.
At least I knew what to expect. Growing up in a pack, I had seen others shift for the first time. I had watched the painful yet awe-inspiring transformation as wolves emerged, powerful and majestic. But this was different. This was public, forced, and laced with malice.
The pain began, sharp and searing, as my bones cracked and reshaped themselves. My skin stretched, fur sprouting where there had been none. Every nerve in my body screamed, but I gritted my teeth, determined not to cry out.
And then it was over. I stood there in my new form, trembling and vulnerable. For a moment, I dared to hope that they might see me differently now, that they might recognize my strength or accept me as one of their own.
But the gasps and horrified whispers that rippled through the crowd shattered that illusion.
“Abomination.”
“Not one of us.” “Monster.”The Alpha’s voice was cold and final as he spoke. “You are no longer welcome here, Rosalee. Leave, and never return.”
I had dreamed of my first shift as a moment of liberation, a step toward a better future. Instead, it became the day I lost everything.
I don’t hesitate for even a second. The moment the Alpha’s words cut through the air, I turn and take off running, my paws pounding against the earth as I flee the place I once called home. I refuse to let them see me cry. I will not give them the satisfaction of watching me beg to stay.
The forest blurs around me as I push myself harder, faster, desperate to escape the voices still echoing in my mind. Abomination. Monster. The words sting, but I bury the pain beneath my determination to keep moving.
After what feels like hours, I finally stop by a stream, my chest heaving as I catch my breath. The cool night air does little to soothe the ache in my heart. The water glistens under the moonlight, and I find myself drawn to it.
Cautiously, I approach the stream, the sound of the gentle current filling the silence around me. I lean over to drink, but when I catch sight of my reflection, I freeze.
Staring back at me is a wolf unlike any I’ve ever seen.
My fur is pitch black, darker than the night itself, absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. I’m larger, much larger, than any normal werewolf, my body built with a strength and power that feels foreign yet undeniable. But it’s my face that truly sets me apart.
My muzzle is longer, more angular, more like the face of a Lycan than a wolf. And then there are my eyes.
They burn with a bright orange glow, like the heart of a flame, an eerie combination of the werewolves’ golden eyes and the Lycans’ blood-red ones. They seem to pierce through the darkness, both beautiful and terrifying.
I take a step back, my reflection rippling in the water.
It’s true.
I’m not like them. I’m not just a werewolf. I’m not a Lycan, either. I’m both. A hybrid, born of two bloodlines that were never meant to mix.
I’ve heard the stories, the whispered warnings of what happens when a werewolf and a Lycan create life together. A child born of such a union is seen as a curse, a monster, something to be feared and rejected.
And now, as I stare at my reflection, I see the truth of those stories etched into every part of me.
I am that monster.
A shiver runs through me, but I shake it off, lifting my head to look at the moon above. If they want to call me a monster, so be it. I’ll survive. I’ll find a way to live, even if it means doing so alone.
With one last glance at the stream, I turn and run again, leaving the reflection, and the life I once knew, behind.
As I run, the forest begins to thin, and in the distance, I see faint lights flickering against the dark horizon. A town. Relief washes over me, but exhaustion weighs heavily on my body, forcing me to slow down. My paws falter, and with a deep breath, I shift back into my human form.
The cool night air bites at my skin, and I wrap my arms around myself, shivering. I don’t know what lies ahead, this could be another werewolf pack, a Lycan settlement, or, if I’m lucky, a human town. I pray to the Moon Goddess for the latter, though I’ve never been one for good luck.
As I approach the edge of the town, I spot a small house with clothes hanging on a line outside. I hesitate, guilt pricking at me, but desperation wins. I grab a large shirt, slipping it over my head. It hangs loosely on my frame, but it’s better than nothing.
My stomach growls loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet night. Hunger claws at me, sharp and relentless. I continue walking until I find myself behind a modest-looking hotel. The faint scent of food wafts from the building, and I follow it, hoping to find something to quiet the gnawing ache in my belly.
In the alley behind the hotel, I spot a row of bins. Swallowing my pride, I begin rummaging through them, searching for anything edible. I’m so focused on my task that I don’t hear the door creak open until it’s too late.
“Hey!” a woman’s voice calls out, sharp but not unkind.
I freeze, turning to see a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in my disheveled appearance, but instead of anger, I see something unexpected in her gaze pity.
“What are you doing out here, child?” she asks, stepping closer.
“I...” My voice cracks, and I quickly look away, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I was just hungry.”
She studies me for a moment before sighing. “Wait here.”
I watch as she disappears back into the kitchen, my heart pounding. A part of me expects her to come back with someone to chase me off, but instead, she returns with a plate of food.
“Here,” she says, handing it to me.
I stare at her, stunned. “Why are you helping me?”
Her expression softens. “You look like you’ve been through hell. No one deserves to go hungry.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away, accepting the plate with trembling hands.
Over the next few days, the woman, Margaret, I learn, is true to her word. She speaks to the hotel owner on my behalf, arranging for me to work in the kitchen in exchange for food and a small room in the staff quarters.
For the first time in years, I feel a glimmer of safety. It’s not much, but it’s enough.
Jensen's Point of ViewI stand frozen, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch her retreat into herself, her expression a mixture of shock and horror. The word "mate" still lingers in the air between us, a truth I’ve waited my entire life to discover, yet her reaction is nothing like I imagined.Taking a cautious step forward, I reach out, my fingers brushing her shoulder. I hope the contact will ground her, draw her out of whatever storm is raging in her mind. The moment my hand touches her, warmth floods through me, the bond sparking to life as if it has been waiting for this exact moment.Her body stiffens under my touch, and I watch as her bright blue eyes snap back to mine, the haunted look in them replaced by something else, shock, confusion, and maybe even a hint of fear."Are you okay?" I ask softly, my voice barely above a whisper.She shakes her head, stepping back quickly, breaking the contact. The moment her shoulder leaves my hand, it’s as though all the warmth is sucked
Rosalee's Point of ViewI sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the small mirror across the room. The faint glow of the bedside lamp casts soft light over my features. My striking blue eyes meet my gaze, a color so vivid they almost seem unnatural. My dark hair falls in soft waves over my shoulders, framing a face that Dameon and his mother have often called beautiful.Beautiful.The word feels hollow to me. Beauty doesn’t matter, not when someone discovers the truth of what I am. A hybrid. A creature that doesn’t belong in either world. If he that man from earlier realizes what I truly am, all of this will be over. The life I’ve carefully built here, the fragile sense of safety I’ve managed to hold onto, it will all come crashing down.I tilt my head slightly, studying my features. There’s no visible trace of the monster within me, no hint of the beast that lies beneath my skin. My reflection doesn’t betray the truth.But my scent might.I’m surprised he didn’t pick
Jensen's Point of ViewAs the first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, I stir awake, blinking against the soft morning light. Stretching, I feel a lingering calm from last night’s run. The rain had been relentless, but it had done wonders to clear my head. The storm outside had mirrored the storm within me, and running through it had been exactly what I needed.Sitting up, I rub my face, the memory of Rosalee’s horrified expression flashing through my mind. My mate. The one I’ve waited for my entire life. And yet, she seems to want nothing to do with me.I shake my head, willing myself to focus. I can’t let this distract me, not completely. There are still matters at hand that need my attention.Standing, I pull on a fresh shirt and jeans, then lace up my boots. As I button my cuffs, I open a mind link to Nyx and Ronan.“Meet me in the dining hall for breakfast. We need to talk about next steps.”Their replies come quickly, Nyx’s sharp and efficient, Ronan’s gruff but agree
Rosalee's Point of ViewThe soft morning light filters through the curtains as I smooth the last corner of the bed, making sure it’s neat and perfect. The room smells faintly of fresh linens and the lavender cleaning spray I always use. After what happened last night, focusing on the familiar task and the familiar scent helps keep my nerves in check and helps me to keep my mind from wandering to stranger and the implications of what he said. I'm still focusing on my task, bending down and making sure the bed linen is absolutely perfect, when there is a quick knock on the door and it opens. I glance up to see him, the stranger from last night, standing in the door.His intoxicating scent hits my nose, overwhelming the familiar scent of the room and my heart skips a beat, but I quickly plaster a polite smile on my face, hiding the storm of emotions brewing inside of me. Play dumb, I remind myself. That’s the plan. Maybe if I act like I don’t know what he’s talking about, he’ll get bored
Jensen's Point of ViewI stand motionless in the room, staring at the door Rosalee just disappeared through. My chest feels tight, and my Lycan is restless, growling in frustration at my lack of action. Every fiber of my being screams at me to chase after her, to demand answers, to make her face the undeniable truth of what we are to each other. But I force myself to stay rooted in place, clenching my fists at my sides as I wrestle against the primal urge."Why is she doing this?" The thought echoes in my mind like a relentless drumbeat. I’ve never heard of mates meeting and wanting nothing to do with each other. It’s unthinkable. The bond is too strong, too sacred. And yet, here I am, standing in the aftermath of rejection.Her words play over and over in my head, and I can’t shake the haunted look in her eyes. Whatever she’s hiding, it’s something she believes is so terrible that pretending not to understand what I’m talking about is her only option. But what could it be? What could
Rosalee's Point of ViewThe dining hall buzzes with the quiet hum of conversation, the clatter of silverware against plates, and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. I sit at one of the smaller tables near the window, half hidden from the guests, the sunlight streaming through casting a warm glow on the wooden surface.Across from me, Dameon chats animatedly about something, probably a story from his morning shift, but his words barely register. My mind is elsewhere, tangled in the events of the morning.No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the memory of Jensen standing there in that room, his piercing gaze locked on mine, his voice so calm yet insistent. His words echo in my mind, “I know you heard me last night, and I know you feel the sparks.” He wasn’t wrong, but that doesn’t make this any easier.I push a piece of bread around my plate absentmindedly, my appetite long gone. My chest feels heavy with the weight of my thoughts. "Maybe I should just tell him outr
Jensen's Point of ViewI make my way through the quiet hallways of the hotel, my steps purposeful as I head toward Rosalee’s room. I need to talk to her again, to try and make her see that I’m not here to hurt her. As I round the corner leading to her door, I stop in my tracks.There she is, slipping out of her room.Her movements are cautious, her eyes darting around as though she’s making sure no one sees her. Instinctively, I press myself against the wall, masking my scent and softening my steps. My years of training have taught me how to move like a shadow, and tonight, the light rain only adds to my advantage.I follow her at a distance, keeping to the edges of the hallway and then out into the night. She doesn’t notice me as she makes her way toward the forest, her coat pulled tight against the drizzle. Her movements are deliberate, each step carefully placed, as though she’s done this many times before.Once she reaches the edge of the forest, she pauses, looking around again t
Jensen's Point of ViewThe faint light of dawn seeps through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. I blink my eyes open, groggy and unrested. My body feels heavy, as if the weight of unanswered questions from the night before has settled into my bones. I had spent most of the night tossing and turning, my mind caught in an endless loop of possibilities, each more improbable than the last."What is Rosalee?" The question echoes in my head as I sit up, running a hand through my disheveled hair. I sigh deeply, frustration bubbling under the surface. Nothing is clearer this morning than it was last night.I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. The chill jolts me slightly, grounding me in the present. I stand and make my way to the bathroom, my movements sluggish and deliberate. The bathroom is small but functional, with a simple shower stall, a mirror above the sink, and a stack of neatly folded towels on a shelf.Turning on th
Jensen's Point of View Two weeks later. I sit behind my desk, elbows resting on the smooth surface, hands steepled in front of me as I stare blankly at the stack of papers that haven’t moved in hours. The sun filters through the office windows, casting golden lines across the floor, but even that warmth doesn’t ease the tight knot in my chest. It’s been two weeks since the alliance agreement was signed. Two weeks of stillness. No information leaks. No attacks. No whispers in the wind. On the surface, everything appears calm... too calm. I know better than to trust this peace. It feels like the inhale before the scream. Like the pressure building in the earth before it splits open. The calm before the storm. And deep down, I know, when Crimsonclaw resurfaces, it won’t be like before. It’ll be worse. A full-scale reckoning. My instincts have never failed me before, and they’re screaming now. I close my eyes for a beat and open a mind link. "Nyx, Ronan, please come to my offi
Freya's Point of ViewThe moment I hear Rosalee say the word cameras, my stomach drops.Cameras.The entire attack was caught on tape.I don’t hear another word she says. My pulse spikes and my vision narrows with rage. Without thinking, I take my phone and hurl it across the room. It smashes against the wall with a violent crack, splintering to the ground in useless pieces. The sound it makes is deeply unsatisfying. I clench and unclech my fists, my jaw tight.“Great… just great, why didn't I think of that,” I mutter through gritted teeth, pacing the floor now, trying to rein in the storm building up in my chest.The door swings open, and Ravena steps inside. She looks around the room and her brows pull together as she takes in the shattered remains of my phone on the floor. “What’s wrong?”I turn towards her, barely containing the frustration vibrating through me. “Rosalee just called. Apparently, Shadow Vale had cameras... cameras Ravena, installed all over their pack grounds. The
Rosalee's Point of View As Josh and I step into the pack house, the hum of conversation and the comforting scent of home surrounds us. I glance over at him just in time to see his eyes glaze over briefly, the telltale sign of a mind link. When his eyes return to normal, he offers me a small smile. “Piper is in the dining hall,” he says. I smile back, grateful. “Thank you.” We make our way through the familiar halls until the wide double doors of the dining hall come into view. I’m about to thank Josh again when he cuts me off gently, clearly reading my intention. “I’m going to go shower,” he says with an easy shrug. “But if you need me, just ask anyone to mind link me.” I nod my head with a grateful look, and with that, we go our separate ways. As I step into the dining hall, my eyes immediately find Piper. She’s at a table near the far wall, the soft afternoon light pooling around her like a warm halo. She looks relaxed, her hands resting on her belly as she gazes down
Rosalee's Point of ViewAs Josh and I walk back to the house after training ended, the silence between us is heavy but not uncomfortable. Still, I can feel a tight knot in my stomach, growing with every step we take. I know what I have to do, and the thought of it makes my fingers twitch and my heart race.As we near the front door, I turn to him and say, “I just want to grab a quick shower and then I want to go and find Piper.”Josh nods his head easily, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be waiting. Take your time.”“Thank you.” I give him a small, distracted smile before slipping into the house.The moment the door closes behind me, I don’t head for the shower like I said. I go straight to my room. I can’t put this off anymore. If I wait, if I let doubt creep in, I might never go through with it. And I need to go through with it.I grab my phone off the nightstand, my hands already trembling as I dial Freya’s number. My feet carry me in slow, restless circles around the room, pacing
Rosalee's Point of View Jensen and I are still sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, the warmth from breakfast lingering between us like a quiet comfort. Our plates are mostly cleared, just a few crumbs of pancake and the faint scent of coffee hanging in the air. The morning light filters in soft and golden, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t feel the weight of secrets pressing on my chest. At first, when he started asking about Crimsonclaw, the leak, and Shadow Vale, I felt that old familiar knot of fear tightening in my stomach, afraid that maybe he suspected me. But as we talked, that fear started to dissolve. He wasn’t accusing, he was reaching out, needing someone to talk to. And the fact that he chose me… it means more than I can put into words. Now, I feel like it’s time to give something back. Trust for trust. I’ll call Freya later today and tell her I’m done. No more spying. I’ve found something here that I don’t want to lose, a place
Jensen's Point of View I stir awake, a soft breath leaving my lungs as I blink against the morning light filtering through the window. For the first time in what feels like days, I feel... grounded. Not entirely at ease, but focused. Yesterday, the alliance agreement was signed. The plan to root out the mole is in motion. And today... today, I’ll cross one more name off the list. I’ll talk to Rosalee. With that goal settling like a quiet resolve in my chest, I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The floor is cool beneath my feet as I rise and stretch, working out the stiffness in my shoulders. My steps are purposeful as I walk to the closet and grab something simple to wear, dark jeans and a fitted charcoal t-shirt. Comfortable, clean, unassuming. Today’s not about appearances. Once dressed, I take a moment to run my fingers through my hair, smoothing it back before I open my bedroom door and head down the hall. The house is quiet, the kind of silence
Jensen's Point of View The fresh night air feels grounding as Rosalee and I walk side by side, leaving the hall and all the tension behind us. The stars are out, scattered across the sky, and the cool breeze is a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the signing. I feel lighter now that it's over, one major task off my shoulders, but there's a heaviness that settles just beneath the surface, pressing into me with every quiet step. Rosalee walks beside me, her arms relaxed at her sides, her face soft in the moonlight. She seems... happy. At ease. There’s no trace of the weight I carry visible in her expression, and for a moment, I envy that kind of calm. I want to believe this peace is real. That she’s exactly who she seems to be, gentle, curious, and trying to find her place here. But my thoughts twist back to Nyx’s words, and Ronan’s warning. Nyx doesn’t throw out suspicions lightly. Her instincts are sharp, honed over years of dealing with situations others would miss entirely.
Rosalee's Point of ViewI wander aimlessly through the house after having lunch with Jensen, my fingers trailing along the edge of the walls and furniture. I’ve tried reading one of his books again, something to quiet the noise in my mind, but the words keep blurring together. My thoughts are too loud, too restless. I consider calling Freya, but what would I even say to her? There’s nothing new to share, nothing she doesn’t already know about.With a sigh, I find myself drawn to Jensen’s home office. The space smells like cedar and old paper, a now familiar, welcoming smell. I slip into his chair behind the desk. The leather feels cool beneath my fingers. My eyes wander and I spot some blank paper and pencils nearby. Without much thought, I pick one up and begin to sketch.At first, it’s just random lines, soft, swirling shapes, but soon it becomes more intentional. I let the pencil move on its own, trying to capture this tight feeling in my chest, the sense of being watched and quest
Jensen's Point of View The door clicks shut behind the last person I had to question, and I let out a long, frustrated sigh as I lean back in my chair. That was everyone. Every Alpha, every Beta, every representative from the alliance meeting. And none of them, none, gave even a hint that they could be the mole. Either I’ve spoken to the world’s most talented liar, or… it’s someone else entirely. Someone I’ve overlooked. Someone hiding in the shadows. The thought gnaws at me, and I sit up straighter, reaching out through the Alpha’s mind link. "Marcel, can you please meet me in my office?" "Sure. I just entered your pack lands again. I’ll be there soon." I cut the link and sit in the silence, my turning over every interaction, every detail. Nothing adds up. A few minutes pass before there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I call. Marcel steps inside with a slight smile, but it fades quickly as his eyes lock onto mine. His brows knit with concern. “Is everything okay?”