Chapter 006. Her Choice

“She said you’d be fine. Your mother, before she died.”

Saeris whirled around to find her father in his wheelchair just beyond a second doorway, worn hands gripping the wheels, pale eyes unreadable in the low light. How long had he been there? The front door had barely closed behind Vaelen.

“Dad, I—”

“No need to lie.”

His voice was soft. Not cold. “I heard everything,” he said as he wheeled further into the room, slow … a little dignified, despite the decade-long prison of rusted metal beneath him. “Hard not to, when a Lycan… King enters one's home.”

Shame curled beneath her ribs.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“That you've lost your wolf?” She didn't visibly flinch when he said it. “That your wolf scent is no more? Or that you're leaving with him?”

Her throat closed. Every part of her rebelled against his words, not because they were untrue, but because they were.

Her knees gave up the fight, and she sank onto the edge of the couch.

“All of it,” Saeris whispered. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“And leaving with a Lycan doesn’t worry me?” Marcus gave a long, tired sigh. “It’s my fault,” he murmured, gaze fixed past her. “I should have—”

“No!” Saeris sat up straighter. “Don’t do that.”

“How can I not? I’m still your father. I should’ve kept this from happening. Should’ve protected you. Instead, I'm chained to this chair while you make deals with a Lycan."

The chair. Yes, it was the chair’s fault.

Saeris looked into those familiar gray eyes, eyes that had once sparkled with life before her mother's death had extinguished their light. Before grief had hollowed him out.

She'd been only eleven when their world had collapsed. Sometimes, in the darkest hours of night, she'd hated him for breaking after her mother's death…for retreating so deeply into his grief that she'd had to grow up overnight, becoming both daughter and caretaker. For not fighting harder to remain the father she needed.

But looking at him now, she couldn't summon that anger. He was suffering still, after all these years.

“I won’t stop you. Your mother would be furious with me,” he added quietly. “She’d have knocked some sense into me long ago.”

“She would have.”

Her father blinked down at his lap. “It’s only fair I let you go. Even if I hate it.” He looked up again. “But remember, the North isn’t like here. It’s not your home. It belongs to the Lycans. And you're a wolf.”

✦✦✦

“Are you absolutely certain about this?”

Ianthe leaned against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, watching as Saeris twisted her autumn-copper hair into a simple updo.

“The pack territory is all we’ve known. And Lycans—”

“Can be awful,” Saeris finished for her, adjusting a loose strand near her temple. “I know. Everyone says so.”

“Everyone says so because it’s true.” Ianthe pushed off the frame. “No sane wolf dares step beyond the neutral border. They’re violent. Unpredictable. And their kings…” she trailed off, visibly shuddering. “If I’d known the male from yesterday was one of the kings, I wouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

Saeris turned away from the mirror and met her friend’s gaze. “It’s only for a month. That’s all.”

A voice in her head whispered… lies.

She hadn’t told Ianthe the truth—not because she didn’t trust her, but because she knew exactly what her friend would do. She’d come after her. Try to fight fate with bare hands and bared teeth. And Saeris couldn’t let that happen.

Moreover, Ianthe’s mate was here.

“Besides,” she said, voice soft, “I need this.”

Her dress was a modest dove-gray, cinched gently at the waist, sleeves loose and simple. The kind of outfit that said nothing too loud, drew no attention. Light makeup that barely covered the evidence of two days of sleepless nights. And sensible shoes.

Ianthe exhaled, low and heavy. “I’ll miss Sirius.”

Saeris’s hands stilled on the clasp of her mother’s ring. Her father had pressed it into her palm that morning with trembling fingers and a kiss to her forehead.

“I know.”

She didn’t say more.

✦✦✦

“I’ll wait outside,” Ianthe whispered as they reached the steps of the packhouse. Saeris gave her a small, grateful nod, then climbed the final steps alone, swallowing her nerves.

She had barely stepped inside when a familiar scent wrapped around her, forest after rain, uniquely Flynn. He stood by the arched window, his broad shoulders tense beneath his shirt. When he turned, his eyes widened briefly before his expression shuttered.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Her stomach hollowed out.

She turned slowly, not trusting her voice, not trusting her heart to stay quiet. That hair still fell across his brow the same way. That voice still pulled at something soft inside her. Even now.

“I was invited,” she said carefully.

“By whom?” One step toward her.

“Vaelen.”

Flynn stilled. And then—“The Lycan King?”

Another step. Anger sharpened his jawline. “And you thought it wise to accept?”

His voice frayed at the edges. He ran a hand through his hair. Nervous. A tell she used to adore. “How do you even know him, Saeris?” he demanded. “And why would he want you here?”

Her voice was ice. “Does it matter?”

Flynn’s eyes darkened. “It matters when it concerns the safety of someone from my pack.”

Someone.

That’s what she was now?

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. She might have laughed if she didn’t want to slap him first.

“You know nothing of the man he is,” Flynn snapped. “You think he flattered you, maybe gave you a look or a line, but you don’t know what he does. What he is. He’s not some wolf you can bat your lashes at. He’s a predator. He toys with his prey.”

Saeris tilted her chin. “Sounds like you know him well.”

He didn’t take the bait.

“Well enough,” he bit out, stepping closer. “Which is why I need you to leave this house until he’s gone.”

Saeris frowned. “Are you ordering me?”

“If I have to,” he growled, catching her wrist. “This is an order, Rae—”

“Don’t!” She yanked her hand free. “You lost the right to call me that.”

“Listen—”

“What’s this?”

A lover’s purr glided into the hall and Saeris half-turned to find Vaelen near the marble staircase, adjusting the lapel of his dark jacket. “An Alpha desiring someone who isn’t his mate?”

Behind him stood a slightly broader male with cropped chestnut hair and a face carved from stone. Clearly Lycan.

Flynn jerked his hand away, composed himself, and then said, "You're ready to depart, I assume?" His voice was a forced calm.

“Almost.”

Vaelen’s gaze dragged down her form, her dress. His mouth quirked … something between distaste and curiosity. Like she’d shown up to war in a lullaby.

“Just attending to one last matter.”

The sharp staccato of heels echoed in the corridor, and then Gemma appeared. All perfect curves and weaponized smiles.

“Your Majesty,” she cooed, stepping forward with a small velvet box in her hands. “I wanted to offer you a token from our humble pack before your departure.”

Vaelen ignored her. “I’ll be departing shortly,” he said, his voice bored, borderline cold. “With Saeris. As my guest.”

The silence that followed was lethal.

Flynn recovered first. His face turned sallow as he went on to say, "That's not possible. Saeris is a member of the Greenvale Pack. She’s a wolf—she can’t—”

“She can’t?” Vaelen raised an eyebrow. “Is there some law in your pack preventing wolves from accepting an invitation?”

Flynn didn’t answer. Because there wasn’t.

“I invited her to the packhouse this morning as a courtesy, given your prior… connection.”

Gemma stepped in then. “Perhaps this should be thought through.” All pretense of sweetness gone. “The pack needs her. Her father needs her. She—”

“Luna Gemma,” Vaelen’s voice dropped into a lethal low. “Alphas are talking.”

Her forced smile locked in place as she fell silent.

Saeris couldn't tell if she was impressed… or revolted.

“No law prohibits a wolf from traveling to my court,” Vaelen continued, turning back to Flynn with perfect, glacial calm. “Especially not when the wolf chooses to go.” A pause. “Do you deny her this right, Alpha Flynn?”

Flynn’s jaw ticked. That muscle at the edge of it twitched like it wanted to fight. He’d never been cornered before.

And Vaelen knew it.

That subtle curl of his mouth was almost a smirk—but not quite. “Do you accept my invitation, Wolfling?”

Flynn stiffened. “Saeris—”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.” And something in her settled then.

Flynn stilled. Like her answer had struck a chord he hadn’t known could break. She watched him as Vaelen slipped a hand around her waist, pressing her into his side, and heat pulled in her. She didn't want to know what that meant about her.

“Then it’s settled.”

She could feel Gemma’s eyes slicing across her skin.

Flynn… Flynn looked like he might argue. She almost hoped he would—just to give her a reason to stay.

But he didn’t.

“I shall return her,” Vaelen said smoothly, “if she ever wishes to come back.”