He Recognized My Worth After I Was Gone

I pulled the heavy door open and walked out into the cold stone corridor. My heels clicked in an even, unhurried rhythm against the marble.

Behind me, my father said nothing. He didn't have to. He would grant the terms because Nora wanted to be safe, and he always gave her whatever she desired.

He had given her the comfortable estate near the Pack Heart. He had given her my mother’s heirloom moon-sapphire. He had given her his affection, while my mother had rotted from the inside out—her wolf driven mad by the shame of his betrayal, howling at the moon until her lungs bled.

I had stayed in this pack for one reason only: Lucian.

I had picked him out of fifty elite candidates ten years ago. Where other warriors bragged and flexed their silver ranks, Lucian had stood motionless at the end of the line, towering, silent, eyes like polished obsidian.

I had spent years trying to break through his icy armor. I wore silks that smelled of midnight-blooming jasmine, pretended to trip near the northern chasms, feigned weakness in the deep woods just to feel his heavy, warm hand stabilize my shoulder.

He had never touched me beyond what duty required. I thought it was his absolute honor as a knight.

It took me until tonight to learn the truth. The masquerade party.

Leaving the crowded hall, I bypassed the main roads and walked the long, silent path toward the western ridge where my private quarters stood.

That's when he grabbed me, filling my nostrils with the scent that he had just consumed. He pinned me against the stone wall and groaned against my earlobes.

I froze. A low, guttural panting vibrated through his chest.

I should have pushed him away. I should have turned around and left for my quarters without another thought. Instead, I leaned inward just enough to see a huge bulk popping up on his pants.

Lucian’s lips touched the skin on my neck, sweat glistening over the hard ridges of his back in the dim moonlight. His right hand moved in a fast, punishing rhythm over my waist, his jaw clenched, his throat tight as he held back a growl.

He kissed me!

Not just a regular kiss, but a kiss filled with passion and years of longing.

“Lucian…” I whispered his name. In return, he said, “Nora…”

I froze.

Nora. Was he taking me for Nora?

My chest went hollow. My internal wolf curled into a tight, silent ball, refusing to make a sound.

Before I could pull back, he tightened his grip over me. “Don't go… It's just a dream.”

“Let me hold you for a little longer, Nora, even if it's just a dream.”

He was so drunk that he could not differentiate reality from the dream, yet he took her name with a tone filled with such softness and love that I had never seen him use for anyone else.

Just then, a silver device lying nearby chimed. Lucian stopped instantly. His breathing cleared in seconds, his hand dropping as he grabbed the communicator and pressed it to his ear.

I ran away. He turned to look back.

“Hey…” he called from behind. But I did not stop. Not until I was far out of his reach.

Watching he had stopped chasing, I leaned to look back. He was talking to someone on his device.

"Speak," he commanded. His voice wasn't the quiet, submissive tone of a knight. It was smooth, heavy, and drenched in absolute authority.

A pause, then he let out a low, mocking scoff. "I’ve played the devoted guard to the eldest daughter for three years. You think I’m walking away now? Isadora is the only way to stay close to Nora. She is the key."

"No," Lucian said coldly. "She has no idea. She thinks her little games and sweet scents are working. It's pathetic. She isn't worth a single strand of Nora's hair. Nora is the she-wolf foretold in the golden scrying glass, and I will bring her to our throne when the time is right."

He stood up, walking toward the open balcony, his silhouette blocking out the moonlight.

"Keep the council in check," Lucian ordered into the device. "Manage the Shadow Pack until I return. Understood?"

Shadow Pack.

The unregistered pack of the shadow kingdom. The mountain wolves that every major territory believed were nothing more than a ghost story to frighten young pups.

Lucian wasn't an orphaned knight looking for a home. He was an Alpha playing a game of hide-and-seek in my home, using me as a shield to stalk my half-sister.

I stepped back from the corridor, my heels silent on the flagstones.

I didn't howl. I didn't scream. I didn't let a single tear spill over my lashes. My mother had died screaming for a male who didn't love her, but I was my father's daughter, too—calculating, cold, and entirely done paying for other people's sins.