INICIAR SESIÓNSelena's POV
Greta’s cottage has that earthy scent of dried herbs mixed with the mustiness of old books.
I’m perched on a wooden stool near the fireplace, my hands wrapped around a cup of tea that’s gone cold. Damian stands by the window, arms crossed, watching the old woman as she sifts through a pile of leather-bound journals.
"Greta."
She doesn’t look up. "I heard you the first time, dear."
"So why aren’t you re
Sera's POVGracia's eyes widened at my sudden request."Sera…"I pressed my forehead to his lips, unable to meet his gaze. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. "You left me untouched for two years. It's your fault. And now I want to feel you. I want to love you. All of you."He cupped my face, tilting it up so I had to look at him. He kissed one cheek, then the other. His voice was soft, careful."Sera, there are people outside. They might hear us. Even with the celebration, they'll…""I don't care." I shook my head, my voice trembling. "No one will dare say anything to me in my own territory. I don't care who hears."He kissed my forehead."Please," I whispered. "I want you. I've waited so long. Tell me… do you not find me attractive? Is my body not to your liking? Do you not want me? Do you not want to sleep with me? Will you never touch me? Is it my…" I hesitated, my cheek
Sera's POVThe door clicked shut behind us, sealing out the noise of the celebration. The muffled cheers, the clinking of glasses, the distant music—it all faded into a gentle hum, like a river flowing far away. We were alone.Finally, completely, utterly alone.Gracia sat on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his back against the headboard. He looked like he belonged there—like he had always belonged there. I settled onto his lap sideways, my legs draped over his thighs, my arms looping around his neck. His hands found my waist, warm and sure.He kissed my neck. Soft, lingering. Then my cheek. My eyes. My temple. My neck again.I giggled when his lips brushed the sensitive spot just below my ear. "That tickles."He did it again, deliberately this time, and I squirmed in his lap."You're doing that on purpose," I accused.He grinned against my skin. "Maybe."H
Sera's POVHand in hand, we made our way toward our family.I couldn't help but grin, my cheeks starting to hurt from it, but honestly, I didn't mind at all. Gracia was next to me, his hand warm and strong in mine. He seemed different—more self-assured—but his eyes hadn’t changed. Those same eyes that had once looked at me with such openness in the cottage, holding so much pain.He was still the man I had fallen in love with.Before we reached our family, Eve broke away from the crowd and sprinted toward Gracia, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing uncontrollably.“You stupid, stupid pup!” she cried out, hitting his chest with her fists. “You left us! You left her! Do you even realize what you put us through?”Gracia held her close, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, Eve. I’m really sorry.”Eve pulled back, wiping her face with her sleeve. &ldq
Sera POVThe world stopped.I don’t mean that poetically. The maids froze mid-step, the wind held its breath, dust motes hung in the light. Because Gracia was standing in the grand courtyard of my father’s estate.My eyes filled with tears so fast the world became a watercolor painting, all bleeding edges and shimmering light. My heart pounded against my ribs like a caged bird finally recognizing the open sky, and the sound that escaped me was between a laugh and a sob and a prayer I’d whispered every night. Relief flooded me—not the quiet kind, but the violent kind that makes your knees buckle and your lungs forget how to breathe. All these years of pain, of waking to an empty room and pretending I was fine, of telling myself he’s coming back, and finally, finally he was here.Eve was crying beside me, soft sobs like rain against a windowpane, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was just standing ther
Sera's POVThe morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting a golden glow across the expansive bed where I lay, motionless for what felt like hours. Physically, I was fine—the healers had assured me of that—but mentally, I was bone-tired. Two years of heartache, tears, and endless waiting had sapped something vital from my spirit.Dressed in a simple traditional gown, my hair was styled modestly, held in place by a few pins. A shawl rested on my shoulders, though its warmth did little to comfort me.I hadn’t moved on from Gracia, not really.Perhaps I never would. Maybe a part of me never wanted to.I knew I was being foolish, but it didn't matter. My heart was steadfast; I would always love Gracia. No one else could ever take his place.I clutched the charm he used to wear—the one Lvy had given him—an emblem of our bond. He’d left it behind when he vanished, and it was all
Gracia's POVIronhold loomed before me, a towering testament to everything I had lost and every change I had gone through.The packhouse stood impressively against the clear morning sky, its stone walls glistening in the soft light of dawn. Until now, I had only glimpsed it from the shadows—hiding behind corners, looking through windows, always watching from afar. But today, I stepped through the front gates with warriors flanking me and servants bowing in deference.This was my first time entering a place that felt like home, yet I was doing so boldly and without hiding.The realization sent a chill racing down my spine.I had rehearsed this moment countless times in my mind, imagining every detail. I had practiced my words, refined my posture, and prepared myself for whatever might come next. Yet, standing here now, my heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst.What if she’s not here? What if she’s a
I wake up in a bed that's not mine.That's my first thought. Before I open my eyes, before I remember anything—just that the sheets smell different. Like pine and something else. Something clean and sharp.Then everything comes rushing back. The rejection. The run. The rain. The wolves.I sit up so
I don't remember leaving the pack grounds.One minute I'm on that platform, choking on my own vomit, and the next I'm in my room with my dad shoving clothes into a bag. My hands still won't stop shaking. My whole body shakes. It's like the rejection burned through everything—muscles, bones, the par
My hands won't stop shaking.I press them flat against my thighs, but the tremors just move up my arms. The white dress my mom wore thirty years ago feels too tight around my ribs, or maybe that's just my lungs forgetting how to work."You'll ruin it." My dad's voice comes from behind me. Soft. Car
I can't breathe.Caden stands in the middle of Damian's front yard like he owns it, he does owns everything. His dark hair catches the morning light. His ice-blue eyes sweep over the Silvermoon pack members with that look I know too well—the one that says *you're beneath me* without him having to o







