CHAPTER 1

"Are you finished with the staring contest, Willow?"

A sharp huff echoed from the bed. Willow glanced toward the reflection of Jade Collins, her closest friend, who sat with arms crossed and a deep scowl etched into her features.

"Seriously, it’s been five minutes. You’re starting to creep me out," Jade added, her voice echoing in the quiet of the Grant House.

Willow’s gaze drifted back to her own image. "I don’t know, Jade. Do you think he’ll… do you think Roman will like how I look?"

"We spent two hours turning you into a different person," Jade said, standing up to join her at the mirror. "Yes, he’ll like it. And no, he won’t reject you when you finally tell him you’ve been pining for him since you could walk."

The word reject felt like a physical weight in Willow's chest. It was a shadow that had followed her dreams for years, ever since she was a pup waiting for her first shift. She had been holding onto a promise for six years, and if Roman Vale turned her away tonight, she didn't know how she would survive the blow to her spirit.

"Will you be my Alpha, Roman? I want to be your Luna."

The memory played out in vivid color. She had asked her brother’s best friend that question on her ninth birthday, right after he had gifted her a dress that made her feel like royalty. He had laughed—a deep, melodic sound that nearly shattered her heart. But seeing her face crumble, he had knelt before her, his stormy gray eyes softening.

"You are my Luna," he had whispered.

"Really?" Her heart had soared. "Does that mean you'll mate with me?"

He bit his lip, amusement dancing in those dark irises. "I’m sorry, Willow. I can’t. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because the time isn’t right. You’re still so young. You haven't even found your wolf."

"Then when?"

"When the rosebud finally blooms into a rose," he told her.

Willow had lived by those words. She hadn't fully grasped the metaphor then, but she had carved them into her diary and her soul. Now, at fifteen, she felt the pressure of the pack’s expectations. Jade already had a string of flings, but Willow only had eyes for one male. She knew Roman’s words back then were likely a gentle way to shield a child's heart, but she didn't care. She was ready to claim that promise tonight.

"Willow, you look breathtaking. Though, I still miss your long waves," Jade commented, leaning against the vanity.

Willow ran a hand over her hair. She had cut it to her shoulders and spent an hour straightening the wild, chestnut curls until they were sleek and disciplined. She wanted to look like Blair, her older sister. Blair and Evan were twins, and Roman was their closest confidant. Willow had once overheard Roman complimenting Blair’s hair, and ever since, Willow had been obsessed with mirroring her sister’s style.

"Short is what’s in right now. And Roman prefers it," Willow muttered, checking her nails. They were manicured exactly like Blair’s.

Every female Roman had ever been seen with was just like her sister—poised, elegant, and sophisticated. Willow felt the burn of jealousy, but she pushed it down. Those females were temporary. Once Roman recognized her, there would be no one else. She flushed at the thought and adjusted the dress.

"Is this too short, Jade?" Willow asked, tugging at the hem. It felt wrong. Blair looked stunning in these tight, revealing silks. Blair had the curves of a grown wolf, while Willow felt she was all sharp angles and flat planes.

"It’s perfect! Stop overthinking," Jade insisted, ushering her toward the door. "If we don’t move, we’ll miss the grand entrance."

Tonight was Blair and Evan’s nineteenth birthday, a massive event for the pack at Redwood Bay. The Grant House was filled with the scent of expensive wine and the underlying pheromones of dozens of wolves. Almost every high-ranking family in the territory had been invited.

As they reached the main hall, Willow’s pulse spiked. Her palms felt slick, and her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She scanned the crowd, her eyes searching for the one face that mattered.

She spotted her parents, Robert and Elaine Grant, standing near the center of the room. They were inseparable, even after decades of mating. That kind of devotion was what Willow craved.

"Willow!" Elaine’s voice broke through her trance. "Look at you! My little girl looks so grown up tonight."

Willow blushed under her mother’s radiant smile. "You think so?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

Robert remained silent, his brow furrowed as he took in the heavy makeup and the short dress. It was the opposite of Willow’s usual nature. "You didn't like the gown I got you, Willow?"

"I did, Dad. Truly," Willow lied, shifting her weight. "I just… couldn't find the right accessories for it."

Robert nodded slowly, though Elaine’s gaze was knowing. The entire family knew of Willow's fixation on Roman Vale, though they likely underestimated the depth of it. To them, he was a hero who had saved her from bullies years ago. To her, he was her entire world.

She looked around the room again. Where was he? Roman never broke a promise, and he had promised to be here. Ever since the tragedy that struck the Vale family a year ago, he had grown distant. The playful, reckless boy had been replaced by a brooding, guarded man. He only visited once a month now, usually to play a game of chess with her in the library.

The room erupted in cheers as Blair and Evan descended the grand staircase, bathed in golden light. Blair looked like a forest spirit in a shimmering pink dress, and Evan was the picture of a future Alpha in his dark suit.

But there was still no sign of Roman.

Willow began to wander through the crowd, her anxiety growing with every step. She turned a corner and collided with a solid, muscular chest. Strong arms instantly wrapped around her waist to steady her.

"I’m so sorry" Willow began, looking up.

The words died in her throat. Stormy gray eyes looked down at her. Roman had shaved his stubble, revealing the sharp, lethal lines of his jaw. His dark hair was swept back, and the brow piercing he usually wore was missing. Despite the shadows of exhaustion under his eyes, he was beautiful.

"Rosebud?" Roman’s voice was deep, laced with the heavy accent of the old territories.

His eyes traveled down her body, and Willow felt his jaw tighten.

"What are you wearing?"

The tone was cold, vibrating with an irritation that made her heart sink.

"Why? Don't I look good?" Willow bit her lip, her confidence evaporating. "I thought you would like it."

Roman’s scowl deepened as he looked at her straightened hair and the mask of makeup. He shook his head and released her. "You don't need my approval, Willow. Wear whatever you want."

He stepped past her without another word.

Willow felt the sting of tears. Why was he so cold? She knew he was grieving his father, but the distance felt personal. She couldn't stand it. Running back upstairs, she tore off the tight dress, scrubbed the makeup from her face, and pulled on the simple white gown her father had bought her.

When she returned to the party, she ignored the confused looks from Jade and went straight back to the hunt. She found Evan and Blair laughing with a group of young wolves.

"Happy birthday!" Willow said, forcing a smile as she hugged her brother.

Evan lifted her off the ground with a boisterous laugh. "Where’s my gift, little wolf?"

"In the fridge. Red velvet," she replied, her eyes already darting away.

She saw him. Roman was standing in a shadowed corner, a glass in his hand, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. Mark, a boy from the pack, tried to clap Roman on the shoulder, but a single, lethal glare from Roman sent the boy scurrying away.

"You changed," Blair noted, her eyes narrow as she watched Willow.

"The other dress was… uncomfortable," Willow said, already moving toward the corner.

Blair caught her arm, pulling her away from the group. "You’re going to do it tonight, aren't you? You're going to tell him."

Willow gasped. "How did you?"

"Don't," Blair interrupted, her voice sharp. "You’ll only end up hurt."

Willow pulled her arm back. "You don't know that. Maybe he feels the same."

"Don't be a fool, Willow. He’s gentle with you because he sees you as a younger sister. Don't embarrass him when he’s already dealing with the weight of the Vale legacy. He doesn't want a mate; he wants peace."

The words cut deep, echoing Willow’s darkest fears. But her heart refused to listen. "You don't know everything, Blair. Stay out of it."

Willow turned and walked toward Roman. As she approached, she took a long, steadying breath.

"Hey," she said, her voice small.

Roman looked at her. The anger from before had faded into a cold, flat indifference.

"Are we still playing chess today?" Willow asked. "I’ve been practicing."

Roman stayed silent for a moment, then gave a curt nod. "Fine. This party is useless anyway."

Willow’s heart leaped. "I’ll set up the board. The library?"

"I’ll be up in a few minutes," he said, taking a slow sip of his drink.

Unable to help herself, Willow threw her arms around him in a quick, tight hug. The scent of cedar and rain filled her senses. Roman tensed, his hands barely touching her back before he gently but firmly pushed her away.

"Go," he said, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Willow practically skipped to the library. She set the pieces with trembling hands, her excitement nearly overflowing. This was it.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

The silence of the library began to feel heavy. Willow sighed and headed back downstairs. The party had shifted; the older pack members had left, and the music had turned loud and aggressive. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat.

She scanned the room, looking through the throngs of dancing wolves. He wasn't there. She checked the balcony, the kitchen, and the gardens.

Roman Vale was gone. He had forgotten their match for the first time in years.