Chapter 5

Leah

A gift?

Last life, that question had caught me off guard. I’d stood there empty-handed while the room laughed.

This life, I was ready.

I rose smoothly, reached into my medical satchel, and withdrew a small crystal box.

“I did.”

I opened it.

Inside lay a single flawless white bloom, petals so luminous they seemed to drink the chandelier light.

Ella burst into delicate laughter.

“A wildflower? After all this time? Grandmother has thought of you every single day, sister. How disappointing.”

The guests murmured agreement. Martha’s eyes glittered with malice.

“No gift at all would have been better than that pathetic weed.”

I walked toward them slowly, deliberately. The pressure rolling off me was quiet—almost serene—but it carried the unmistakable edge of something feral, something that had already died once and come back meaner.

Martha and Ella instinctively took a step back. Then another. Until their calves hit the edge of a velvet chaise and they dropped into it, side by side, staring up at me.

“First,” I said, voice velvet over steel, “Alpha Agnes is my grandmother. She has no relation to either of you. In the presence of this pack, you will address her as Alpha Agnes—or simply Alpha. Anything less is disrespect. And disrespect to an Alpha carries punishment under pack law.”

A ripple of nods moved through the room. Several older wolves narrowed their eyes at the two interlopers who had spent the last few days strutting around like they owned the place.

Martha opened her mouth. Closed it.

“Second,” I continued, lifting the crystal box so the light caught the petals, “this is not a wildflower. This is Moon-crown Blossom. It blooms once a year for a single day, high on cliffs no sane wolf would climb. It purifies even high-grade wolfsbane. I searched for years to find it.”

Aman snorted from the sidelines.

“You expect us to believe that’s some legendary herb? It’s a common weed. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Alpha Agnes studied the flower in silence, brow faintly creased. I knew that look—she recognized it. She was worried, not doubtful. Last life she had pulled me aside later and whispered, Your life is worth more than any flower, foolish girl.

Martha, mistaking the frown for disbelief, seized the chance.

“Fetch the pack apothecary!” she cried. “He’ll expose the lie!”

Ella tried to backpedal. “It’s fine, really. If sister says—”

But Agnes raised a hand.

“Let the apothecary see it,” she said quietly. “He is wise and knowledgeable. He can definitely help us to clarify everything.”

The old werewolf arrived moments later, still wiping his hands on his apron. The second his eyes landed on the blossom, he staggered as though struck.

“Moon-crown… Goddess above, it is Moon-crown Blossom!” His voice cracked with awe. “This could cleanse the blood of even an Alpha struck by royal-grade wolfsbane. Three territories couldn’t buy this!”

Gasps rippled through the hall. Guests pressed closer, murmuring in wonder.

Martha’s face drained of color. Ella’s smile froze into something brittle.

The apothecary turned to Agnes. “Alpha, this is genuine. Beyond price.”

Agnes lifted the flower with reverent fingers, then met my eyes.

“Never risk yourself like this again, child. The herb matters little compared to your life.”

She reached to the table beside her wheelchair and retrieved a small velvet box. Inside rested the Moonstone Bracelet—the ancient heirloom of the Night Shadow line, said to channel the Goddess’s favor.

She fastened it around my wrist.

A collective breath sucked out of the room.

Recognition. Acceptance. Power.

Martha’s eyes blazed with barely contained fury. She snapped her fingers at a servant.

“It’s chilly in here. Bring the white fox cloak for Leah. She’s… underdressed.”

The heavy fur mantle arrived—gorgeous, ostentatious, and deliberately chosen to make me look ridiculous when paired with my plain traveling clothes and scarred face.

Last life, I’d accepted it gratefully, only to become the laughingstock of the evening.

This life, I smiled sweetly, slipped the cloak over my shoulders, and ran my fingers through the plush white fur as though I adored it.

Laughter bubbled up from the crowd—cruel, delighted.

“Look at her. Like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s rags.”

Martha’s smirk widened.

Then I let out a sharp, startled scream and flung the cloak to the floor as though it had burned me.

Every eye snapped to me.