Ghosts of Manhattan II

Sophie’s POV

Central Park in October was breathtaking. The leaves were turning, painting the trees in shades of gold and crimson, and the air had that crisp quality that I’d forgotten existed in California’s endless summer. We walked along the paths, Ethan running ahead to examine every interesting rock and leaf, and for a moment, I let myself pretend we were just tourists. Just a mother and son on vacation, with no complicated past and no terrifying future.

My wolf wasn’t fooled. She was on high alert, sensing the pack boundaries we were crossing, the territorial markers that saturated the air. We were in the heart of Steele territory now, and every instinct I had was screaming at me that we were exposed, vulnerable.

That he might be near.

“Mama, look!” Ethan had found a hot dog cart and was staring at it with the intensity of someone who’d discovered buried treasure. “Can we get one? Please?”

I laughed despite myself. “Yes, we can get one.”

The vendor was human—I could tell by the complete lack of reaction to my scent. He served us with cheerful efficiency, and Ethan attacked his hot dog like he hadn’t eaten in days. I managed half of mine before my stomach rebelled, too twisted with anxiety to handle food.

We found a bench overlooking the lake, and I watched ducks glide across the water while Ethan narrated an elaborate story about where they were going and what adventures they were having. His imagination was endless, his joy infectious.

He looked so much like Dominic when he smiled.

“Sophie?”

The voice came from behind me, and every hair on my body stood on end. My wolf lunged to attention, but it wasn’t his voice. It was female, familiar in the worst way.

I turned slowly.

Camille stood on the path behind our bench, dressed in black from head to toe, looking like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine’s guide to elegant mourning. Seven years had been kind to her—she was thinner, sharper, her blonde hair cut in a severe bob that emphasized her cheekbones. Her eyes were the same though. Cold, calculating, triumphant.

“I thought that was you,” she said, her voice carrying false surprise. “What a coincidence.”

There were no coincidences in pack territory. She’d probably known the exact moment our plane landed, had probably been tracking my movements since I’d checked into the hotel. The Steele pack would know every wolf that entered their territory, especially one who’d been exiled.

Especially me.

“Camille.” I kept my voice neutral, but my wolf was snarling, hackles raised. This was the woman who’d destroyed my life, who’d whispered poison in Dominic’s ear until he believed I was nothing but a gold-digger trying to trap him. “It’s been a while.”

“Seven years.” Her smile was sharp as broken glass. “You look… different. California agreed with you.”

It wasn’t a compliment. Nothing she said was ever really a compliment.

Her eyes slid to Ethan, who had stopped his story and was watching this stranger with curiosity. I saw the exact moment she registered the grey eyes, the shape of his face, the unmistakable stamp of Steele genetics. Her expression didn’t change—she was too controlled for that—but something flashed in her eyes. Calculation. Malice. Recognition.

“And who is this?” she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Every protective instinct I had roared to life. I stood up, positioning myself between Camille and my son. “This is Ethan. My son.”

“Your son.” She drew the words out, tasting them. “How… interesting. He has such striking eyes. Very unusual color.”

“We need to go.” I grabbed Ethan’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come on, baby.”

“But Mama—”

“Now, Ethan.”

Camille stepped aside to let us pass, but I could feel her eyes boring into my back, could practically hear the gears turning in her calculating mind. She’d seen. She knew. And she would tell Dominic—of course she would. Not out of any sense of duty or morality, but because she was a viper who loved nothing more than causing chaos.

I walked fast enough that Ethan had to jog to keep up, and I didn’t slow down until we were back at the hotel, safely behind a locked door.

“Mama, who was that lady?” Ethan asked, his face scrunched with confusion. “Why did we have to leave?”

“She’s… an old acquaintance. Someone I’d rather not spend time with.” I tried to gentle my voice, tried to hide the panic clawing at my throat. “I’m sorry we had to cut the park short. Want to watch a movie?”

But the damage was done. Camille had seen Ethan. She’d done the math. And tomorrow, when I walked into that funeral, everyone would know.

Everyone would know that I’d kept Dominic’s son from him for seven years.

That night, after Ethan fell asleep with the TV still playing softly, I stood at the window and stared out at the city lights. My phone sat on the nightstand, Mrs. Chen’s last text still glowing on the screen: You just have to survive it.

But survival felt impossible when my entire world was about to implode.

Somewhere in this city, Dominic Steele was mourning his father. Tomorrow, I’d see him for the first time in seven years. And he’d see his son for the first time ever.

My wolf whimpered, caught between longing and terror.

The bond hummed in my chest, that constant ache flaring brighter now that we were in the same city. The same territory. Close enough that if I really tried, I might be able to sense him through it.

I didn’t try.

Instead, I closed my eyes and prayed to the Moon Goddess that I’d have the strength to face what was coming.

Because tomorrow, I’d stand in a cathedral full of wolves and pretend my heart wasn’t breaking.

Tomorrow, I’d look my fated mate in the eyes and remember why I’d run.

Tomorrow, everything I’d built would come crashing down.

And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.