Chapter 4

Alpha Jakeson:

Three years.

Three long, sad, brutal years since she vanished.

The morning sun poured through my office window, warm and golden, but I barely felt it. I’d forgotten what warmth felt like. The only thing I seemed to remember these days was her face the last time I saw it,tear-streaked, trembling, her voice breaking as she called my name.

“Octava…” I muttered under my breath, running a hand through my hair.

The stack of reports on my desk blurred. I couldn’t focus. I hadn’t been able to for months now. Not since the search ended. Not since every lead, every rumor, every faint scent trail had dissolved into nothing.

She was gone.

And I had only myself to blame.

The door opened softly, and Beta Harrison stepped in, his expression grim. “Alpha.”

I didn’t look up. “Tell me you have something.”

He hesitated. “About Luna Octava?”

The sound of her name hit like a knife. “Yes.”

He sighed, lowering his gaze. “No, Alpha. We’ve searched every neighboring pack, every human town, every Lycan territory within reach. It’s as if she vanished off the face of the earth.”

I clenched my jaw until it hurt. “Keep looking.”

“Alpha—” He stopped, choosing his words carefully. “It’s been three years. We’ve followed every trail. The trackers say her scent disappears near the Northern border. She didn’t want to be found.”

The words sliced deeper than I expected.

Didn’t want to be found.

I stood, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. “She’s my mate, Harrison. You think she’d just disappear without a reason? You think she’d leave me?”

Harrison didn’t answer. But his silence said enough. I’d given her every reason to.

I turned away from him, my gaze falling to the framed photo on the shelf, the only one we’d ever taken together. She was smiling, small and shy, her hand barely resting on my arm. I looked stiff, distracted. I remember that day. I’d been thinking about another woman… about Elma.

Regret burned like acid in my throat.

“Any word from Elma?” I asked, my tone sharp.

“She left the pack a year after Luna disappeared,” Harrison said quietly. “Took her child and moved west.”

“Good,” I muttered. “I don’t ever want to see her again.”

For a long moment, the office was silent. Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the space between us. Harrison finally cleared his throat. “Alpha, there’s something else. The royal Lycans have sent an invitation.”

I frowned. “An invitation?”

“Yes.” He held out a sealed scroll. “To the coronation of the new Lycan princess. All Alphas are required to attend. The event will be held in the Lycan capital in two weeks.”

I took the letter, breaking the royal wax seal. The script inside shimmered faintly, official, precise, and unmistakably commanding. Attendance mandatory. Failure to appear would be considered disrespect to the throne.

A part of me scoffed. I’d never cared for Lycan politics. They ruled from their marble towers, untouched by the chaos of our packs. But I couldn’t ignore a royal summons.

“When did the Lycans last crown a princess?” I asked.

“Never,” Harrison said. “The king had no surviving daughter. Until now.”

Until now.

The words hung in the air like a whisper I couldn’t quite shake.

“Fine,” I said finally, tossing the letter on the desk. “Prepare the convoy. We’ll leave for the capital in ten days.”

Harrison nodded and turned to leave, but before he reached the door, I said quietly, “Harrison.”

He looked back. “Yes, Alpha?”

“If there’s even a whisper of Octava’s name… anywhere in the Lycan territories… I want to know.”

He nodded once. “Of course.”

When he left, I leaned against the edge of my desk, the room suddenly too quiet. My fingers brushed over the edge of the photograph again. I should have told her that I loved her. I should have stayed when she cried that morning instead of walking out like a coward.

But I didn’t.

I left her to drown in loneliness.

And now, every night, it’s me who drowns.

The royal capital of the Lycans was nothing like I’d imagined.

The palace rose out of the forest like a cathedral carved from moonstone and silver, glowing faintly under the twilight sky. The air thrummed with ancient power, the kind only pure Lycans carried. My wolf stirred uneasily inside me, recognizing a dominance that dwarfed even mine.

We crossed the marble bridge leading to the grand courtyard. Banners bearing the royal crest, a moon cradled by a wolf, fluttered in the wind. Lycans in formal attire moved gracefully through the halls, their presence commanding yet calm.

It was a different world here. One I didn’t belong to.

The guards bowed low as they led me through towering golden doors into the great hall. The ceremony was already underway, laughter, music, the scent of wine and power filling the air.

At the far end of the hall, upon the dais, sat the Lycan King himself. Broad-shouldered, silver-haired, his aura radiating authority. Beside him stood a woman with the same amber eyes, though softer, gentler. The Lycan Luna. And beside her stood a young woman dressed in flowing white and gold, a crown of woven silver upon her head.

My breath caught.

She was breathtaking.

Her golden hair shimmered like sunlight, cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes, gods, her eyes, amber and fierce, glowing faintly under the torchlight. She looked regal, ethereal, untouchable. But it wasn’t her beauty that froze me.

It was the way her scent hit me.

Familiar.

Devastatingly familiar.

I staggered. Harrison grabbed my arm instinctively. “Alpha?”

I couldn’t answer. My throat had gone dry. The scent was faint beneath the rich perfume and the incense in the hall, but it was there, Wild honey and rain. Octava.

No. It couldn’t be.

The King rose from his throne, his voice echoing through the grand chamber. “Tonight, we crown our daughter, the lost princess of the Lycan Kingdom, Octava Valen. Heir to the royal bloodline, bearer of the moonmark.”

The hall erupted in applause.

But I didn’t hear it. My heartbeat drowned everything out.

She turned slightly then, her eyes sweeping over the crowd. For a second, a single, fleeting second, our gazes met.

The world stopped.

Her expression didn’t change. Not a shock. Not anger. Nothing.

She looked right through me, as if I were a stranger.

My chest constricted painfully. My wolf whimpered inside me, clawing at my chest. Mate. The bond, the one I had buried under guilt and silence, roared back to life, burning and alive.

But she didn’t even flinch.

She turned away.

I barely heard the rest of the coronation. My mind was in chaos, disbelief, and hope colliding until they left me dizzy. My Octava. My lost Luna. She wasn’t human. She wasn’t weak. She was a Lycan princess.

When the ceremony ended and the music swelled, I moved before I could think. I needed to see her up close, to speak to her. To explain. To beg.

But two royal guards blocked my path, crossing their spears. “Audience with the princess requires permission, Alpha,” one said firmly.

“She’s my wife,” I growled before I could stop myself.

Their expressions didn’t change. “The princess is not receiving visitors tonight.”

“Tell her it’s Jakeson of Lakewood Pack,” I said sharply. “Tell her I need five minutes.”

“The princess does not recognize that name,” the guard replied flatly.

I felt my breath leave me. The words hit harder than a punch.

“She doesn’t recognize—?” I swallowed, forcing down the rising panic. “She knows me.”

The guard’s tone softened slightly, almost pitying. “She knows of you, Alpha. That is not the same thing.”

Harrison tugged my sleeve quietly. “Alpha, maybe we should—”

I brushed him off. My eyes were still locked on her across the room. She was laughing softly now, surrounded by nobles, her hand resting protectively on a small boy’s shoulder.

My heart stopped again.

A child.

He couldn’t be more than two or three. His eyes were a stormy mix of amber and green. My eyes.

I stumbled back a step, the realization slamming into me like lightning. My knees almost gave out.

“She… she had my child,” I whispered.

Harrison’s eyes widened. “Alpha…”

“Three years,” I said numbly. “He’s three.”

She turned slightly, her gaze landing on me again, just for a heartbeat. But this time, her expression changed. Her smile faded. Her eyes, once soft and uncertain, hardened like amber glass.

Then she looked away again.

And walked out of the hall.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The Lycan palace was silent, the moonlight spilling across the balcony of my guest room. I stood there for hours, replaying the look in her eyes, that calm, distant indifference. The same woman who once cried for my love now couldn’t even stand to look at me.

And she had every right.

I’d broken her once.

Now the universe had rebuilt her… stronger, untouchable, royal.

And me? I was nothing more than a ghost in her past.

But I swore then, under that endless moonlight, that I would see her again.

That I would tell her the truth, about what happened, about why I’d pushed her away.

Because I never stopped loving her.

Not for a single day.

And I’d be damned if I let her slip away again.