21

Scarlett

Autumn faded into winter, and Sweet Escape continued to flourish despite my lingering fears. Each morning, I’d pause before unlocking the café doors, half-expecting to see Finn’s silhouette through the glass, but he kept his word. He didn’t return.

Life returned to its usual routine – the hustle of morning commuters in need of their coffee, the calm of afternoon regulars working on their laptops, and the contentment of tallying up the day’s profits.

Sometimes, I could almost convince myself that his visit had been nothing more than a dream, if not for the way Ray still stirred restlessly on quiet evenings, searching for a scent that was no longer there.

“You know,” Alisha said one morning as we prepped for opening, her hands expertly weaving through the morning pastry routine we’d perfected over the years, “I was worried you’d want to run again after he showed up. But staying? That was the right call.”

“Running once was survival. Staying is something else entirely.”

“Something stronger,” she agreed, sliding a tray of croissants into the oven. The warm, buttery scent filled the air, mingling with fresh coffee.

“Even if he came back...” I paused, surprised by how steady my voice remained. “I’m not afraid anymore. This place, what we’ve built here – it’s worth defending.”

Three months had passed since Finn’s visit. Three months of quiet determination, of growing stronger, of proving to myself that I could face my past without letting it consume my future.

The mate bond was still there because I had yet to accept his rejection. A quiet ache I’d learned to live with, but it no longer felt like a chain around my neck.

Everything was perfect, or as perfect as a life pieced together from broken dreams could be.

Until the day the letter arrived at my office.

My hands trembled as I picked it up, Ray stirring uneasily within me. Five peaceful years of building a new life, and now this – a ghost from my past threatening to shatter everything.

“You don’t have to open it,” Alisha said from the doorway of my office. She’d brought me the letter, her face grim with recognition of the seal. “We could burn it, pretend it never came.”

I traced the edge of the envelope with my finger. “He wouldn’t stop at one letter. You know that.”

The paper tore easily under my fingers, releasing a scent that transported me instantly back to that marble-floored prison I’d once called home. Dickson’s signature cologne clung to the page, a deliberate power play. He knew how scent memories worked for wolves.

---

My dearest wife,

Did you truly believe you could hide forever? That your little game of house in the human world would go unnoticed? Your defiance was amusing at first, but I grow weary of this separation. It’s time for you to return to your rightful place at my side.

I know about your quaint little café. Sweet Escape, is it? How fitting – but there is no escape from what you are, from who you belong to. I’ve given you five years to indulge this fantasy of independence. Now I’m ordering you, as your Alpha and husband, to return home.

You have one week to present yourself at my pack. If you fail to comply, I will come collect you myself. And my dear, you won’t enjoy the consequences of forcing my hand.

’Your loving and caring husband,

Alpha Dickson Stone’

---

The paper crumpled in my fist as rage and fear warred inside me. Ray snarled, her protective instincts flaring at the threat to everything we’d built.

“Scarlett?” Alisha asked. “What does he want?”

“What he’s always wanted – control.” I smoothed the letter on my desk, noting how my hands had stopped shaking. The fear was still there, but it was different now. Five years ago, I’d been a broken thing, fleeing in the night with nothing but terror and desperation driving me. Now... “He’s giving me a week to return ‘home’ before he comes to drag me back himself.”

Alisha’s eyes flashed gold, her wolf rising in response to the threat. “We can run again, Luna. I know people who can help us disappear—”

“Enough of the ‘Luna’ thing, and I’m done running.”

I stood and walked to the window overlooking the café below. The morning rush was in full swing, with Sarah expertly manning the espresso machine while Mike charmed the customers with his easy smile. Three employees now, all of them counting on this place – on me – for their livelihoods. Sweet Escape wasn’t just my sanctuary anymore.

“You’re not seriously thinking of confronting him?” Alisha moved to stand beside me, her reflection in the glass showing the worry lines around her eyes. “Scarlett, he’s still an Alpha. And after what he did to—” She stopped.

My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach, to the empty space where my baby had once grown.

“I’m not the same wolf he knew,” I said quietly, watching my successful business hum with life below. “Back then, I was alone except for you. I had no power, no resources, nothing but the mate bond he forced on me after Finn’s rejection.”

“And now?”

I turned to face my friend – my sister in everything but blood. “Now I have a life I built with my own hands. I have connections in the human world, legal protection, a legitimate business. I’m not his runaway Luna anymore, hiding in the shadows. I’m Scarlett, a business owner and respected member of this community.”

“He won’t care about human laws or businesses,” Alisha warned. “You know how Alphas think – especially ones like Dickson. He’ll see all this as a cute hobby, something to humor until he decides playtime is over.”

“Are you going to face him?”

“Unlike last time, I’m not facing him as a helpless Luna with no options.”

I sat back down at my desk and pulled out fresh paper. “I’m going to write him back. He wants an answer. He’ll get one – just not the one he’s expecting.”

“What are you going to say?”

A small, fierce smile curved my lips as I began to write. “I’m going to tell him the truth – that his Luna died in those cells five years ago. The woman he’s threatening now isn’t his possession or his wife. I’m a businesswoman with human allies, legal protections, and absolutely nothing left to lose.”

Ray rumbled approvingly within me, her presence steady and strong. We’d survived loss, rejection, and near-death. We’d built something meaningful from the ashes of our old life. And if Dickson wanted to test us, he’d learn what five years of freedom had taught us about real strength.

“Besides,” I added, sealing my response with deliberately ordinary clear tape instead of wax, “I think it’s time someone showed these old Alphas that the world has changed. They can’t just claim anything – or anyone – they want anymore.”