Chapter 4 My Second Chance

Seraphina's POV

The pain of losing Lily's presence still throbbed in my chest like an open wound. Now my beautiful wolf, my another half, needed to retreat into the deepest recesses of my mind.

A hibernation that might have no expiration date.

My hands trembled—first with panic, then with reluctant acceptance. She had fought so hard for me. If rest was what she needed, I would guard her slumber like the most precious treasure.

'Sleep, my brave one,' I sent through the fading connection. 'I'll keep our heart beating until you return.'

Then a sharp rap of knuckles against my door shattered the silence.

I barely had time to wipe my tear-streaked face before the door burst open, revealing a whirlwind of golden curls and floral perfume. Callista Ophelia—my oldest friend and most vocal critic of Darius—swept into the room like a summer storm.

"Oh, thank the Moon Goddess!" She crushed me in a hug so tight that I could feel her rapid heartbeat. "You finally dumped that two-timing bastard!"

I stiffened. Even now, with the scent of gasoline still haunting my nightmares, part of me flinched at hearing Darius insulted.

Callista pulled back, her champagne-colored eyes scanning my face. "Wait—why aren't you celebrating?" She gripped my shoulders. "Sera, you do realize you just dodged a silver bullet, right?"

A humorless laugh escaped me. If only she knew how literal that bullet had been.

"I'm fine," I lied, turning toward the window where moonlight painted silver streaks across the floor. "Just... tired."

"Uh-uh." Callista's manicured finger hooked my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. "I've known you since we stole cookies from the pack kitchen at six years old. That's your 'I'm dying inside' face."

Her words cracked something open in my chest. Before I could stop them, the truth spilled out. "Lily's... fading. The rejection—"

Callista's expression shifted from playful to deadly serious in a heartbeat. "Okay, new plan." She marched to my closet and began flinging dresses onto the bed. "We're going to the Howling Moon tonight."

I blinked. "The bar for werewolves?"

"Exactly." She tossed a scandalously short crimson dress at me. "Nothing mends a broken bond like rubbing your freedom in everyone's faces." A wicked grin spread across her lips. "And I heard the Shadowfang Pack's Alpha heir just returned from his warrior trials..."

As she described the mysterious, notoriously single Alpha heir, I felt something I hadn't felt in years—a flicker of interest. Not for the stranger, but for the life I could have now.

A life without fire.

Without betrayal.

A life where I got to choose.

Lily stirred weakly in my mind, her voice a whisper: 'Maybe... just for an hour...'

Callista winked, holding up two shot glasses she had somehow produced from her purse. "To new beginnings?"

For the first time since my rebirth, I smiled from the heart.

The moment we stepped through the frosted glass doors of Howl, the whispers began.

"Moonwhisper's rejected Luna..."

"They say she burned her own mating bond..."

"Look at the way she carries herself—like an Alpha..."

Callista squeezed my arm as three broad-shouldered warriors materialized from the smoky haze. The tallest—a russet-haired Beta with battle scars crisscrossing his neck—leaned in with a wolfish grin.

"Care for some company, lovely Luna?" His scent—pine and musk—rolled over me.

Callista arched a brow. "Oh, we absolutely—"

"I'm here to drink alone." My tone left no room for negotiation.

As Callista disappeared into the VIP section with her new admirers, I claimed a seat at the moonstone bar. This wasn't just any shifter den—the gilded wolf-head sconces, the waitstaff's silver cuffs marking high-ranking pack members, even the ice cubes carved like crescent moons screamed elite.

"Whiskey. Neat."

The bartender—a scarred Delta with knowing eyes—slid over a tumbler of amber liquid without comment. I downed it in one burning gulp.

"Another."

By the third pour, the world had softened at the edges. Bodies moved in hypnotic rhythms on the dance floor—females in backless dresses arching against warriors bare-chested beneath their suit jackets. The air thickened with pheromones and broken inhibitions.

Then I saw him.

Perched in the VIP loft like a king overlooking his domain, the male dominated the space without effort. Midnight curls framed a face carved by the gods themselves—sharp jaw dusted with stubble, lips made for sin. His tailored suit did nothing to hide the predatory grace beneath, the fabric straining across shoulders that spoke of endless battles won.

When those storm-gray eyes locked onto mine, time stopped.

For one heartbeat, two, he saw me—not as Darius's castoff, but as prey worth chasing. Then—deliberate insult—he turned away.

Challenge ignited in my blood.

I walked toward him without a second thought. The bass vibrated through my bones as I leaned closer to the mysterious stranger, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. "All alone, Alpha?"

He stiffened—just for a heartbeat—before turning those storm-gray eyes on me. Up close, he was even more devastating: the faint scar bisecting his left eyebrow, the way his tailored shirt strained against his muscular frame, the intoxicating scent of winter storms and leather that clung to his skin.

"You're drunk," he murmured, though his fingers tightened imperceptibly around his whiskey glass.

I laughed, tracing the rim of my own drink. "I'm intoxicated, yes. But not from the alcohol." My nails grazed his wrist. "From you."

His gaze darkened, a predator finally acknowledging worthy prey. In one fluid motion, he pulled me flush against him, his large hand splayed possessively across my lower back. "You'll regret this in the morning," he warned, his breath hot against my temple.

"Try me."

Our lips were a hairsbreadth apart when he suddenly stilled. "Do you even know who I am, little wolf?"

Before I could respond, Callista's shriek cut through the pulsing music.

"Brother?!"

I recoiled like I'd been struck. Brother? That meant—

Kaelos Harrington.

The legendary North American Alpha. Callista's older brother. The most dangerous unmated wolf on the continent.

His grip tightened as I tried to pull away. "Running now?" he purred, dragging me back against his chest. His heartbeat thundered against my palm—steady and unrelenting.

Then his lips crashed onto mine.

The world narrowed to the scrape of his teeth, the possessive slant of his mouth, the way his growl vibrated through my very bones. When he finally pulled back, his eyes glowed molten silver in the dim light.

"Too late forto regrets, little Luminara."