Chapter Fourteen

The diner was quiet, the kind of calm that only came in the deep hours between night and dawn. The floors were mopped, the last of the dishes drying on racks. Victoria and Celeste danced lazily behind the counter, swaying to a soft tune from the jukebox. Their laughter echoed gently in the empty booths.

It was a good night. For once, everything felt light.

Until 2 a.m.

The door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle violently. Three men stepped inside—lean, sharp-eyed, unshaven. There was something about them that instantly raised the hair on the back of Victoria’s neck.

Rogues.

She saw it in the way they moved. Too still, too alert. The predator coiled under human skin.

But she didn’t say anything. Neither did Celeste. Both women stiffened slightly, masks slipping back into place.

“Kitchen’s closed,” Victoria said, voice even.

One of the men—tall, with a scar across his brow—smiled in a way that sent ice down her spine. “We’re not here for food.”

Victoria stepped forward, placing herself slightly in front of Celeste. “Then you’ll need to leave.”

Another rogue chuckled, his eyes flicking to Celeste. “Actually… we came for her.”

Before either woman could react, everything snapped into chaos.

Victoria tried to block the first rogue, but the other two grabbed her, pinning her down with brutish force. She grunted, kicking and twisting, but they were too strong.

The third rogue—the one with the scar—lunged at Celeste, grabbing her by the hair. “Pretty thing like you?” he growled, his nails elongating into claws. “Think I’ll have a little fun before I bring you in.”

He tore at her shirt, the fabric splitting under his claws.

But Celeste wasn’t paralyzed by fear.

She exploded.

A fist connected with his nose with a sickening crack. Blood sprayed. He reeled back just as the other two released Victoria and rushed to grab Celeste from behind.

“Run!” Celeste shouted to Victoria.

Victoria scrambled up, chest heaving. She didn’t want to leave—but instinct took over. She ran to the back, yanking out her phone as she ducked behind a prep station.

She dialed.

“He—hello?” her brother’s groggy voice answered.

“I need you here—now.”

She hung up and turned back, fire in her veins.

She wasn’t leaving Celeste.

Victoria threw herself onto the back of the rogue who had grabbed Celeste, sinking her teeth into his ear. He screamed, tossing her off like a ragdoll. She hit the floor hard, the breath knocked clean from her lungs. He turned back to celeste, allowing Celeste enough to slam her foot into his chest with enough force to send him flying into the wall near Victoria. Victoria blinked up at Celeste, stunned.

“What the hell,” she whispered, chest still rising and falling.

Celeste twisted, grabbed the two rogues who held her arms, and smashed their heads together. It was enough to stagger them, but not enough to knock them out. They lunged again—

—and the front door of the diner burst open.

A shadow moved faster than the eye could follow.

The Alpha King stepped through the door, dark coat billowing behind him, his presence swallowing the room.

Without a word, he grabbed one rogue by the throat, lifted him clean off the ground, and slammed him against the counter. The second tried to flee—he didn’t make it far. The Alpha King's hand wrapped around his neck, dragging him back like a child caught mid-theft. Throwing him into the counter next to the other rogue.

His eyes snapped to the last rogue—the one Celeste had kicked.

That one tried to run too.

But he didn’t get far.

With a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards, the Alpha King dropped both rogues and stalked forward. “You touched what wasn’t yours,” he said, voice cold as stone.

Celeste stood in the wreckage of upturned stools and broken glass, shirt torn, chest heaving, blood on her knuckles. Her eyes flicked toward him—just for a moment.

And his world tilted.

That same pull. That same scent.

But stronger now. Wild. Sharp. Alive.

And it hit him like a storm.

She wasn’t what she seemed.

And neither was the connection that stirred in his chest every time he looked at her.

**

The diner was wrecked—broken chairs, glass scattered across the tile, smeared blood painting the floor in jagged strokes. The stench of rogue desperation still lingered, but the silence that followed was louder than the chaos had been.

Celeste stood in the center of it all, chest rising and falling like a drumbeat.

But she wasn’t just Celeste anymore.

Something shifted beneath her skin.

Verena.

For the first time in years, her wolf had stirred—awakened just enough to rise with her, lend her strength, guide her blows. The power humming through her limbs wasn’t just adrenaline. It was instinct. Legacy. Bloodline.

Victoria, still winded and sprawled near the counter, blinked as she tried to sit up. “What?” She coughed and extended her hand toward her brother. “Okay, someone help me up. And maybe explain why you’re both just—”

She stopped.

Her eyes darted between the two of them. Between the way Celeste’s knees had finally started to buckle. Between the stillness of her brother, staring like a man seeing the moon rise for the first time.

“What’s going on?” Victoria said again, softer now. “Why are you both just standing there like—”

Her mask had cracked.

And with it, the scent she’d hidden so carefully—the soft, winter-crisp fragrance, wild and ancient—unfurled into the air.

The Alpha King stood frozen.

It hit him like a blow to the chest.

Not just the scent. Her.

Her eyes still shimmered with the last heat of battle. Her torn shirt clung to bloodied skin. Silver hair fell0 wild around her face, sticking to the sweat at her temple. But it wasn’t her injuries he saw.

It was her.

The truth of her.

The way her presence shook something ancient inside him.

His breath caught in his throat.

For the first time, he really saw her.

And whatever barrier had existed between them—between logic and instinct—shattered.

She was...

“Mate,” he whispered.

Celeste met the Alpha King’s eyes.

And in her expression, everything broke open.

The truth. The fear. The bond she’d fought so long to bury. The pull she’d run from for years.

“Fuck,” Celeste breathed out.

Then everything went black.

She collapsed where she stood.

The Alpha King moved before she hit the ground. His arms caught her, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her head lolled against his chest, breath shallow but steady.

Victoria stared, mouth parted in shock. “What the hell was that? What do you mean mate?”

He didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. Not while everything he knew was unraveling with the weight of a single word.

Celeste Winters—hidden, masked, buried.

And now, in his arms, unmistakably his.