Chapter 003. The Truth

Everything about the male radiated sensual grace and ease.

Even slick with sweat, his slightly tanned skin glowed silver beneath the moonlight. Raven-black hair spilled across his brow in careless waves. But it was his eyes— the same ones she'd seen in the beast that had loomed over her at Silver Cove, only they weren't glowing now.

Saeris’s breath hitched. She stepped back, instinct scraping against bone.

A Lycan. Damn her luck.

That explained a lot. Even the worst of pack wolves knew better than to cross one. And those three had scattered like cowards because of him…

“There always seem to be males like that,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “Wolves who mistake vulnerability for invitation.”

His eyes tracked her…down to her feet. Bare, torn, and bloodied.

“They don’t look like celebration wounds,” he mused. “What were you running from?”

Saeris didn’t answer. Didn’t owe him one.

But her gaze caught on his chest, how the fabric clung like a second skin, how nothing about him (nothing!) —appeared casual, despite the illusion of ease he wore like well-tailored vestments. Then her eyes peeled up, up… Dear her, he was tall.

She forced her voice to be steady. “Thank you for what you did. But I should go.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t block her path either. Just tilted his head with a lazy, amused sort of curiosity. “No name?” he asked, a brow lifting. “After I saved you from what would’ve been a rather unfortunate memory.”

She hesitated.

And gave him the first name that came to mind. “Aelin. Aelin Blackpeak.”

A smile curved one side of his mouth. “Aelin,” he repeated, like he was trying it on. A lover’s purr. “Charming.”

She didn't acknowledge the way her chest tightened. And despite the so—so many warning bells pealing in her head, Saeris found herself reluctant to leave. Something about him called to her in a way she couldn't explain. This wasn't warm and comforting; this was scary and…the way he seemed relaxed in a foreign territory, made her all too cautious. Made her want to run in the other direction.

“Uh-huh, I should…” she gestured vaguely beyond him. “I really should—”

“Go,” he finished, stepping aside with a graceful flick of his wrist. “These woods are clearly not safe.”

She paused. Something in the way he said it—

“Because of you?” The words left her before she could stop them.

His smile was both beautiful and terrible. “Among other things.”

Saeris didn’t wait for more. She hurried past him, not daring to look back even as she felt his eyes on her.

The porch lights cast Ianthe in golden relief, pacing, wild-eyed, until she caught sight of her.

“Saeris!”

Her friend all but barreled down the steps, arms wrapping tight around her as if she could shield her from the world that had just gutted her.

“Where have you been?” Ianthe’s voice was already laced with panic. “I was worried sick! Your father—”

“Is he all right?” Saeris cut in, breath catching, dread crawling up her throat.

“He’s fine.” Ianthe’s hands moved to her arms, her shoulders, checking for damage. “I got him to bed over an hour ago.”

Then came the slow sweep of her gaze, down to Saeris’s feet. To the ruined dress, the dried blood, the way the fabric clung in tatters. Ianthe’s eyes narrowed.“What happened?” Her voice honed. “And don’t say nothing.”

Saeris exhaled, a long, hollow sound. “Can we go inside?” she asked. “I need a bath.”

Ianthe nodded immediately. “Yes—gods, yes.”

She said little else, and Saeris was grateful. The bathwater steamed and stung and soothed all at once. She spoke only what she had to: Silver Cove, the woods, the wolves who’d tried. Not the Lycan. Heavens know there’d be panic in the pack.

✦✦✦

The next morning brought no comfort.

She didn’t want to return to the packhouse. Didn’t want to walk those halls again, but she had to. For Sirius. For whatever thread still tethered her to Flynn…and the bond that had once sung through her.

She ignored the stares as she entered the packhouse. These halls had been her second home since childhood; she refused to slink through them like an intruder. Her destination was Flynn's office, but she never made it there.

Gemma found her first. A vision in a clinging scarlet dress that seemed more appropriate for a late-night date than morning pack business.

“Look who’s creeping back in,” she purred. “Shouldn’t you be licking your wounds somewhere far less public, Saeris?”

Saeris didn’t stop walking. “I’m here to speak with Flynn not you.”

“Why?”

Gemma’s tone was soft and cruel that Saeris stopped then. “You’re not Luna, sweetheart. You’re not even relevant now. He’s still resting, by the way. Poor thing’s worn out.” She stepped closer. “Last night took… everything out of him.”

Saeris flinched, just slightly, but Gemma saw it.

Her smile stretched like a blade unsheathed. “Did you know,” she whispered, “he makes the most delicious sound when he cum? This low, broken growl, like he’s unraveling. Like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded…and oh, Saeris—he begged—”

“Stop.”

She was almost surprised her voice didn’t break.

“Why? Does it hurt to imagine it? To know that while you were sobbing in the dirt like the stray you are, I was being thoroughly, ruinously fucked by the man you thought was yours?”

She shifted her hips. “Poor, deluded Saeris. He only ever touched you because he thought you might be his mate. Just a temporary placeholder until the real thing came along.”

Goodness, how she hated her. Still, Gemma wasn't who she’d come for and she wanted to keep it at that. But that cracked next.

“And now,” she purred, “you don’t even have your wolf to cry to.”

Saeris went still.

“You...” She changed tack. “What did you do? What did you do to me? To my wolf?”

Gemma tsk.

“Tell me what you did!”

“I didn’t do anything that wasn’t already mine to take.” Her voice dropped into a rich, self-satisfied mock. “Flynn was always going to choose me. He was raised to. We are children of legacy—the heirs of Greenvale’s highest bloodlines. You? You’re just collateral damage. All I did was… nudge fate in the right direction. Made sure Flynn's wolf could smell what he needed to smell. You’re lucky I didn’t erase it entirely. Or maybe I did.” She chortled. “Who’s to say it wasn’t a permanent misplacement?”

“That’s not possible—”

“Shut up,” Gemma snapped, then smiled. A smile Saeris knew. “Anything’s possible with the right rituals. With the right knowledge. And Flynn only ever cared about power and the mirror’s reflection. It was almost too easy.” She flicked her well-polished nails. “He's been an Alpha for years, waiting for his 'perfect Luna.' Do you really think he'll admit to making a mistake? That he'll risk looking weak in front of the pack?"

On the inside, all Saeria could think was that her wolf was gone and Gemma had something to do with it.

“He’s already claimed me in every way that matters. And you—” her eyes dragged over Saeris. “—you’re just the ghost of a forgotten girl. Like your coward of a father, still clinging to power he lost the second he broke—”

Saeris’s hand moved before her thoughts caught up.

Crack.

Gemma blinked, stunned. Then her eyes flared, her wolf snarling beneath her skin. Emerald-green irises glowed with fury, her lips curling back.

“What the hell, Saeris?!”

The voice belonged to Flynn.

Saeris turned. There he was, the Alpha she still loved with her whole soul.

“Thank the goddess you’re here,” Gemma’s voice trembled perfectly to add drama to her manipulative performance. “I—I just wanted to check if she was okay after last night and she…she hit me.”

Flynn’s gaze slid to Saeris. “Is this true?”

She wanted to scream. To shake him. But she knew, knew he wouldn’t believe her. Not when Gemma had already sunk her claws in.

Flynn’s jaw tightened. “You need to apologize. Now.”

Saeris stared at him in disbelief, her tongue turning to stone in her mouth.

“Now,” he said again, holding Gemma’s shoulders.

And Saeris swore not to give in. There would be no apology. Not for her.

Footsteps echoed above them, a slow descent from the upper level of the packhouse. Heads turned … and Saeris’s breath snagged in her throat at those eyes. He merely wore loose pants and a robe, revealing skin stretched over hard muscle, the curve of his chest inked with twin tattoos that glinted like runes in the light and disappeared under the dark red robe.

Flynn straightened, his posture shifting instantly from authoritative to… cautious.

“King Vaelen,” he said tightly. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

King.

The word clanged in her mind.

But Vaelen barely looked at him. His golden eyes, those burning, ancient things, were locked solely on her. On Saeris.

He paused at the stairs and held out a familiar object, silver, gleaming in his hand.

Her heels.

“You left these, Wolfling,” he simply said.