The Guest

Camille's POV

“I love to watch the sun set. Certainly not for it's beauty or breathtaking spectacle, but because I hope tomorrow arrives, and I can witness it fade without it becoming my end.”

I inscribed these words into my old, battered diary, a cherished gift from my grandmother, before snapping it shut with a soft finality.

I had no clue what sparked these thoughts, but I’d cultivated a habit of jotting down whatever floated through my mind.

You could call it a small act of rebellion or refuge. I had no idea which was wielding my thoughts.

Moving my thumb over my temple, I tried to soothe the pounding headache threatening to fracture my skull as I made my way toward the balcony of the pack’s den.

I was fine. Truly. An indifferent sort of fine, tinged with a flicker of anxiety.

At least, I’d like to believe I had been better before my mother’s abrupt summons pulled me downstairs, abruptly canceling my carefully planned practice with Devon.

She dismissed my frown as she relayed a sudden meeting with my father, ignoring the storm of emotions flickering behind my eyes.

My gaze swept across the sprawling territory below. This was the land I had been born into—destined to fight and stand tall for, and alongside.

Ashton/Lakenheath: the land of fierce warriors.

I often wondered what inspired my ancestors to attach “lake” to the name, considering there was no lake in sight, just endless woods and rolling hills.

Recalling the letter from the academy made my face brighten with pride. Getting accepted into Lakenheath LunarGuard Academy wasn’t just an achievement; it was a milestone—like a precious gem finally unearthed from my dreams.

I wondered which border of the pack’s territory the patrol team was guarding now. It had been four hours since they set out for hunting, led by my brother Devon Loeka, the formidable Alpha of our pack and Conrad, the spitting mirror image of my father; the most handsome man in our pack. At least, that’s what the women believed, and they would go to any length to end up in his bed. Yes, my nemesis.

Like my father, Conrad’s disappointment on the night of my shameful shifting ceremony had twisted into a bitter disdain for my very existence. I was reduced to a thing, an object: worthless, undeserving, for being deviant, for bringing disgrace upon the family.

“Lost in one of your silly daydreams again?” The question sliced through my thoughts, snapping everything into sharp focus, save for my pounding heart.

My pulse quickened at the familiar uneasiness that always stirred around her. Her gaze burned into the back of my head, icy and relentless.

Gruesome. Malevolent. But I had learned to conceal my true feelings, to mask the turmoil beneath my surface, just as I had learned to hide parts of my life from the world.

Turning with practiced aloofness, I said, “Better than wasting my time at a pointless tea party, chattering aimlessly, dear mother,” emphasizing the last words with a deliberate stretch, a subtle reminder of the relationship we clearly did not have.

“You little devil…” she hissed, her eyes widening with disbelief.

She was a strange sight. A beauty wrapped in unthinking complacency; a woman who lacked her own voice, her own will. My insides churned at the thought. How could anyone endure living like this?

“You’d better mend that rotten tongue of yours before I…” I cut her off before she could finish.

“You want your little one to come after me? I’ve had a long day, and I need this meeting with Father to be over so I can do something else,” I challenged, meeting her gaze directly.

“No wonder the goddess took away your wolf,” she snapped, a jab aimed straight at my feelings—a subtle reminder of the pain I carried daily.

“With a tongue as poisonous and rotten as yours, you clearly don’t deserve a wolf,” she retorted, her fury bubbling over.

She kept talking, but I tuned her out, my mind drifting into the woods, recalling each hunt I’d embarked on. Each moment that had brought me peace

“Are you listening?” she demanded, frustration thick in her voice as she yanked at my arm, jolting me from my reverie.

“Obviously not,” I replied with a feigned yawn.

“That’s very unfortunate for you,” she sneered, resentment curling her words.

The wind tousled strands of my hair over my face as I watched her, refusing to let her usual tirades break me today.

This night was cool, the air crisp and calm. There was no need for the heated exchange. Not today.

“Your father has requested your presence. Be ready in ten minutes,” she said grimly. “Oh, and put on something nice so the guests don’t think you’re one of the servants,” she added, turning toward the door.

“Guest? Who said anything about a guest, huh?” I challenged, my mind fixated on the latter part of her command.

“What guest are you talking about?” I asked, irritation flickering in my voice.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Camille. At least for now,” she replied tersely.

“But you’ll see for yourself when you get your fat ass ready.”

What was going on? I should have suspected from the moment Father asked to see me alone. That was unusual and certainly a first.