Chapter 4

Leah

Aman, the Moon Growler Pack’s arrogant Omega butler, standing ramrod straight in his crisp black uniform, nose already wrinkled as though the very air around me offended him.

He hadn’t seen me yet. His eyes were flicking over the crowd, searching for someone prettier, someone worth his time.

I let the moment stretch.

Then I spoke, voice calm and low, carrying just enough to cut through the dockside noise.

“Excuse me—are you from the Moon Growler Pack?”

Aman turned. The instant his gaze hit my face, those red blotches that still marred my skin in this timeline, his lip curled in undisguised disgust. Confirmation settled over his features like he’d just confirmed a bad smell.

“Miss Leah White from Night Shadow Pack, I presume?” His tone dripped with the bare minimum of politeness. “I am the butler assigned to escort you. Miss Ella Cole arrived earlier with Madam Martha. They are already at the estate. If you’ll follow me.”

He didn’t offer his name.

In wolf society, that omission was a deliberate insult—worse than spitting in someone’s face. It said, You are beneath knowing who I am.

Last life, I would have swallowed the humiliation, kept my head down, and scurried after him like a kicked pup. This life? I stayed rooted to the spot.

Aman took three steps before he realized I wasn’t moving. He glanced back, irritation flashing across his pinched features.

“Are you deaf?” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for me to hear. “What rotten luck.”

I tilted my head, letting the faintest thread of Alpha pressure uncoil from my core—not full force, just enough to make the hairs on his neck stand up.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

The words landed flat, cold, final.

Aman froze. Something shifted in his posture—the instinctive flinch of prey sensing predator. My scent, laced now with the ghost of whatever power had awakened on that operating table last life, brushed against him. His pupils dilated. For the first time, the smug little Omega actually looked at me.

He swallowed hard and hurried back.

“Aman,” he said quickly, voice thinner. “Aman Voss, personal butler to the Moon Growler family. My apologies, Miss White.”

I didn’t acknowledge the apology. I simply turned and walked past him toward the sleek black car waiting at the curb, leaving him to scramble after me like a scolded omega should.

The drive to the estate passed in silence. I stared out the window at the familiar coastline, the jagged cliffs, the sprawling pine forests. Last time I’d ridden this road, my hands had shaken, my stomach twisted with nerves. I’d arrived at the grand gates hunched and small, already anticipating every sneer.

This time my spine was steel. My face was calm. My eyes held nothing but cold calculation.

The car rolled to a stop before the towering marble steps of the Night Shadow Pack’s main residence. I stepped out without waiting for Aman to open my door.

Inside, the grand hall glittered under crystal chandeliers. Priceless artifacts lined every surface—ancient lunar relics, gold-inlaid weapons, tapestries depicting Moon Goddess victories. A blatant display of wealth and power meant to intimidate the “poor relation” they expected me to be.

Martha stood in the center of a knot of elegantly dressed guests, laughing too brightly. Beside her, Ella Cole shimmered in a couture gown the color of winter moonlight, silver-gray hair cascading over bare shoulders, ice-blue eyes gleaming with superiority.

The moment I crossed the threshold, every head turned.

Whispers erupted like sparks.

“That’s the second daughter? Goddess, look at her face—”

“Samuel Black is betrothed to that? He must be blind.”

“Ella is perfection. This one looks like she crawled out of a ditch.”

Ella’s lips curved in a triumphant little smile as she glided forward, forcing herself to take my hand. Her fingers were cool, her grip just shy of painful.

“Sister,” she cooed, loud enough for the room to hear, “you’re finally here. We’ve all been so worried.”

I let her hold my hand for exactly two seconds before I pulled away and walked straight past her.

My target was the woman seated in the high-backed wheelchair at the far end of the hall—Alpha Agnes White, former leader of the Night Shadow Pack, my mother’s stepmother, the only person in this cursed family who had ever shown me genuine kindness.

I stopped before her and dipped into a respectful half-bow.

“Alpha Agnes,” I said softly. “I’m home.”

Agnes lifted her head. Her green eyes—eyes so like mine—sharpened as they met my gaze. For a heartbeat, something raw and unguarded flickered across her lined face. Then she lifted one trembling hand.

“Come here, child.”

I closed the distance in three strides and sank to my knees beside her chair. Before she could speak again, I wrapped my arms around her frail shoulders and buried my face against the crook of her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of cedar smoke and old moonflowers.

“I missed you so much, Grandmother,” I whispered, loud enough for the room to hear.

Behind me, Martha’s face darkened to an ugly shade of puce.

The guests shifted uncomfortably. No one had expected the ugly duckling to claim such open affection from the former Alpha.

Martha recovered first. Her voice came out syrupy-sweet.

“Leah, darling, it’s been ages since you last saw your grandmother. Surely you brought her a gift?”