Chapter 4

Lydia’s POV

"You’re back early. Did something happen?"

Wendy leaned against the doorframe with her usual easy smile, but I could tell her eyes were scanning me, searching for cracks.

“I don’t need anything,” I said, biting into my sandwich, then nodded at the chair across from me. “But if you’ve got nothing better to do, come in. We can talk.”

“Sure!” she chirped, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

I chewed slowly, letting my gaze rest on her shiny black hair, smooth skin, and the expensive cut of her blouse. Even her perfume screamed money. If nothing else, we could probably kill time comparing brands of makeup.

But that wasn’t the question gnawing at me.

“Do you know why my parents called me back so suddenly?” I asked. My voice came out sharper than I intended.

Her lips parted in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected me to confront it. “You should ask Alpha Gregory and Luna Comfort,” she said carefully, eyes darting away.

I almost pressed her, but she switched topics too quickly.

“Tomorrow’s your welcome party,” Wendy said brightly, her voice bouncing with forced cheer. “The invitations went out to everyone between eighteen and thirty. Over two hundred people will be there. It’s your parents’ way of showing how much they value you. It’ll be a huge announcement—you’re back, you’re here, you’re their daughter.”

Her words landed like stones. Gratitude tangled with dread in my chest. My parents meant well, but nothing about it felt natural.

All I could think of was the past: strict lessons, endless training, carefully arranged outings with children I hadn’t chosen as friends. At ten, I thought that life was normal. But ten years in Europe had shown me what freedom tasted like. Now the memories came back sharp, pressing against my ribs until it was hard to breathe.

The next evening, the house buzzed like a hive.

By the time Wendy and I made our entrance—fashionably late, twenty minutes past six—we looked like royalty. Her dress clung in all the right places. My silver gown shimmered under the chandelier light. We exchanged approving smiles; for once, we agreed. We looked untouchable.

The hall was just as I remembered: polished wood floors, glass French doors opening onto the garden, long tables stacked with food. When I was younger, this was where birthdays were paraded for the pack to admire. Tonight was no different.

“Lydia’s back!” voices whispered as I moved through the crowd. Hands reached for mine, smiles beamed, names blurred together. I kept shaking hands until my cheeks ached from smiling.

Everything sparkled: the music, the food, the chatter. Objectively perfect. Yet it felt like standing on a stage, forced to play the part of Alpha’s daughter.

I told myself it would be fine. Once the introductions were over, maybe I could relax.

That’s when it hit me.

A scent—sweet clover, thick and intoxicating—wrapped around me. My wolf stirred so violently I stumbled.

Mate.

The word slammed into my mind, her voice trembling with urgency.

My heart raced. For months I had given up hope. Twenty-one and still unmated. I thought maybe fate had forgotten me. And now… he was here.

I didn’t even think. My body moved before my brain could catch up.

“Where are you going?” Wendy’s voice cut through the fog as I slipped away from another handshake.

“Restroom,” I lied quickly.

“I’ll come—”

“No need. Be back in a minute.” I vanished into the sea of bodies before she could follow.

The scent pulled me like an invisible thread, stronger with every step. My feet carried me to the terrace, then out into the night air.

And there he was.

Brown eyes like molten chocolate locked onto mine, and the world stilled. My lungs forgot how to work. My wolf howled with joy.

Coming home didn’t feel like a mistake anymore. If I had known he was here, I would’ve returned years ago.

We walked toward each other as if possessed. His hand found mine, warm and calloused, and sparks exploded across my skin. I gasped, trembling at the connection.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The silence between us was full, alive.

He led me deeper into the garden, away from the music and laughter. I followed without question, heart hammering, every step charged with electricity.

At the edge of the garden, hidden behind thick hydrangea bushes, he stopped and turned.

Moonlight brushed his features—sharp jawline, tousled brown hair, lips curved into a half-smile that made my knees weak. A tattoo peeked from the collar of his shirt, black ink against tanned skin. I wanted to trace it, discover where it led.

Heat flushed my face. My parents had drilled purity into me, but my wolf didn’t care. She wanted him.

I didn’t wait. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down. His lips met mine, and the world vanished. Sparks burst in my chest. His taste, his scent, his hands anchoring me—it was overwhelming.

When I finally pulled away, breathless, I whispered, “I’m Lydia.”

“Victor.” His voice was rough velvet, low and devastating.

“My father is Alpha Gregory. My mother—”

“I know,” he cut in smoothly. That smile again, enough to unravel me.

Something in his calm made me ache. I wanted to sink into him, tear away the space between us, but the voices from the house reminded me we weren’t alone.

“Tell me something about you,” I pressed, needing to know.

He hesitated. Then: “I’m nobody.”

I frowned. “You’re from the Silverwood pack, right? Why didn’t I see you earlier?”

“I was cleaning the training grounds. My shift ended at eight. Then I came here.”

The words hit harder than they should. Cleaning. My heart stuttered.

An Omega.

My chest tightened as if invisible hands were crushing it. The bond still blazed between us, undeniable, but my mind screamed in protest. Princess of the pack. Future leader. Paired with a nobody?

The Moon Goddess couldn’t be this cruel.

I staggered back, breath shallow. His eyes widened at the shift, confusion etched across his face.

And before I could stop myself, the words ripped out:

“I, Lydia Redfield, reject you.”

Agony tore through me like claws. My wolf shrieked inside, raw and wounded. Victor’s face crumpled, anguish darkening his handsome features, but I couldn’t take it back.

My legs carried me away, stumbling, blinded by tears. I didn’t see if he accepted. Didn’t want to know.

His name burned into my chest: Victor.

I barely noticed when I crashed into someone in the hallway.

“Sorry,” I muttered. The girl I’d knocked over scrambled to her feet, head bowed, copper hair hiding her face. Her clothes were threadbare, wrong for the occasion. She ran off without a word.

I couldn’t bring myself to care.

All I wanted was my room, four walls to hide the wreckage.

My wolf curled away from me, silent, grieving. Without her, I felt hollow, stripped of strength.

I told myself it was the least of my problems. But deep down, I knew—this was only the beginning.