Chapter 3

Probably around the time my father died, three years ago.

I'd felt hollowed out, like someone had scooped out everything inside me. Damon canceled all his plans and stayed with me in the pack for two weeks.

Then something came up with the Storm Pack, and he had no choice but to go back. He held my hand, his voice tender:

"Serena, you just went through the funeral. You look terrible—if my mother sees you like this, she'll have something to say, and I don't want you going through that."

"Stay here for a while. Rest. Take care of yourself."

"Once I've settled things back home, I'll come for you."

I looked at him and nodded.

I was truly exhausted from a relationship that no amount of effort could repair.

Back then, I believed he was looking out for me.

That he couldn't bear to see me go back and be mistreated.

It was only later that I realized—

The distance between us wasn't about protecting me. It was about giving him room to love someone else.

Last year, the pack held a new Sacred Rite, and Damon came to bring me back.

The moment I walked through the door, I saw my stepsister Freya—the one who was supposedly at a healing retreat to recover her health.

She was in the living room arranging fruit, her movements practiced and familiar.

Damon paused mid-step while changing his shoes. "Freya's retreat is near our territory. She wasn't comfortable there, so I let her move in."

He didn't look guilty. I didn't press the matter.

When my stepmother married my father and brought Freya into our family, we were both already grown. There had never been much affection between us—over the years, we'd only crossed paths occasionally.

I couldn't quite name what I felt about her living there.

When she saw me, Freya greeted me warmly. "Sister!"

"Don't overthink it—I'm just staying for a while. Once I'm feeling better, I'll move out."

I nodded. Said nothing.

At the time, it hadn't occurred to me: I, his wife, had waited three years in our pack for him to come back.

And my stepsister, under the pretext of treatment, had been living in my fiancé's home for those same three years.

Now, watching Freya nestled against Damon's back, it all made sense.

From start to finish, I hadn't been waiting for him to bring me home or come claim me in a bride-snatching.

I'd been waiting to see reality for what it was. Waiting until I could finally let go.

Voices carried on the wind, growing clearer.

Freya's voice.

"…What about my sister? If she finds out, she'll be furious."

Damon's tone was certain. "She loves me. She won't really be angry. She just needs to blow off steam."

He paused, his voice dropping. "It was dark in that room during the snatching—it was just a mistake. She'll feel bad for me before she blames me."

"Once she finds out, I'll comfort her a little and it'll be fine."

Freya laughed softly.

My knuckles turned white around themselves.

One of the soldiers spoke up. "Alpha, what if Serena gets taken by someone else?"

Silence on their end, just for a beat.

Then Damon laughed. "You think she'd actually go with someone else? She's the fiercest warrior in Silver Moon. With her temper, if anyone tried—she'd tear the roof off the place."

"True. Serena's a firecracker. The lot of us together might not be a match for her."

"I actually feel sorry for that Crimson Fang Alpha—no telling what shape he'll be in after she's done with him!"

The laughter swelled.

I lowered my eyes. "Let's go."

The man carrying me was quiet.

He hadn't asked a single question since this whole thing started.

I lay against his back and felt his steady stride—not fast, not slow—like someone who'd walked a thousand night roads.

He must have heard.

Heard who they were laughing about. Heard that the one who could "tear the roof off" was me.

But he said nothing.

He just kept walking.

Until they rounded a bend and came face to face with the other party.

Torchlight spilled over them, and someone on the other side spoke first. "Lucian?"

He stopped for a beat, then gave a cold "Mm."

Damon, with Freya on his back, walked a few steps closer.

He looked Lucian over with a grin. "It really is you. You snatching a bride tonight too?"

"Mm."

"From which family?" Damon's gaze drifted past him and landed on me.

I buried my face in Lucian's shoulder, leaving only the back of my head facing him.

"Silver Moon Pack," Lucian said flatly.

Damon studied me for another moment, then laughed. "Not bad! I always figured you for the type who'd never settle down, the way you walk around with that cold look on your face. Congratulations!"

Lucian gave another low "Mm."

Damon took two more steps forward. The torchlight was closer now.

I could feel his gaze land on my back and linger.

For a second, I was almost certain he'd recognize me.

"We're going." Lucian cut in abruptly, already stepping forward.

"Hold on—"