CHAPTER 5

"Pardon me," Willow said, sliding the charcoal jacket off her shoulders. "Could you return this to the Alpha of the Vale Clan? He... misplaced it."

The servant glanced from the expensive fabric to Roman’s towering silhouette. Seeing the predatory set of Roman’s jaw, the man’s face went pale. He fumbled with the tray and the jacket, looking like he’d been handed a live grenade. Willow didn't wait for him to protest; she turned on her heel and walked away. The less she had of him near her his scent, his clothes, his memories the better.

"Willow! There you are. Are you alright?" Tyler asked as she approached. "I was coming to find you, but Evan said you needed space."

Willow gave him a tight, rehearsed smile. "I’m fine, Tyler. Just a bit of sensory overload."

She stayed for the formal engagement announcement of Blair and Matthew, but her mind was already miles away. She spent the rest of the evening expertly ignoring a pair of scorched-earth eyes that followed her every move.

The next morning, the sun bled through the curtains of the Grant House, stinging Willow’s eyes. Her head felt like it was filled with lead. She reached for her phone, expecting a text from Jade, but found a message from an unsaved number instead.

Good morning, my Rosebud. I hope your dreams were kinder to you than I was.

Her heart skipped a beat, then hammered with a sudden, sharp anger. Roman.

How did he get her number? And why, after seven years of silence, was he suddenly acting as if he had a claim on her mornings? She debated typing a scathing response, then thought better of it. Silence was her only weapon. She deleted the thread and headed for the shower.

Later that morning, Jade and Beth sprawled across the leather sofas in the den while Willow picked at a bowl of fruit. Her parents had taken Tyler along for some pre-engagement shopping, giving the girls rare privacy.

"So? What’s the play?" Jade asked, arching a perfectly groomed brow.

"There is no play," Willow sighed. "He’s being a family friend. Polite. That’s all."

"Polite?" Beth scoffed, her mouth full of snacks. "Willow, the man looked like he wanted to claim you in the middle of the dance floor. He hasn't looked at another female in seven years."

Willow froze. "What do you mean?"

"The rumors, honey," Jade hummed. "Ever since you left for Manhattan, Roman Vale became a monk. No dates, no flings, no Lunas-in-waiting. Some of the gossips even wondered if he’d lost his 'drive' after the tragedy with his father."

"He went to England for two years," Willow countered, though a strange warmth bloomed in her chest. "He probably had someone there."

"He didn't," Beth insisted. "He stayed buried in the Lanka business files. And now you’re back, and suddenly he’s sending cryptic texts and acting like a territorial Alpha?"

The doorbell rang, cutting through the tension. Jade went to answer it and returned a moment later carrying a massive bouquet of white roses.

"White roses?" Willow whispered, taking the card.

A beautiful day should begin with a beautiful sight. -R

"White roses symbolize a truce," Jade noted with a smirk. "And a fresh start. You should start paying attention, Willow. Because in this territory, Roman Vale always hunts until he catches what he wants."

That evening, the atmosphere at the dinner table was suffocating. Willow cleared her throat, the clink of silverware falling silent.

"I’m heading back to Manhattan this Friday," she announced.

Evan dropped his fork. "Friday? Willow, you just got here. We thought you’d stay now that your studies are finished."

"I have interviews, Evan," she lied, the guilt of the deception stinging. "Two textile firms are expecting me next week. I need to build my own life, away from the shadow of the pack."

"You could work for the Grant family holdings," Robert suggested, his voice heavy. "You’d have more freedom here."

"I need to prove I can stand on my own two feet, Dad. Without the family name protecting me."

It was a half-truth. She did want a career, but the real reason was the man with the gray eyes. If she stayed in Redwood Bay, her heart wouldn't survive another two weeks. Robert eventually sighed, relenting. "If that’s what you need, Princess. We won't cage you."

The next morning, the group headed to Castelo Track, the premier destination for shifter racing. Evan and Blair had insisted on a group outing with Matthew, and Tyler was too excited about the "cultural experience" for Willow to refuse.

The auditorium buzzed with the scents of excitement and horses. Dozens of sleek, powerful animals were being prepped by their jockeys.

"Where are Blair and Matthew?" Tyler asked, adjusting his cap.

"Right here!" Evan called out, waving.

Blair approached in a yellow sundress and a matching sunhat, looking every bit the high-society Luna. Matthew followed, dressed casually in denim. Willow, by contrast, wore a black tank top, a leather jacket, and worn-out shorts. She wasn't trying to impress anyone today.

"I’m so glad you came, Willow," Matthew said, pulling her into a warm hug. "I’ve missed my favorite honorary sister."

"It’s good to see you too, Matthew."

The race began with a thunderous roar of hooves. The crowd was on its feet. The competition narrowed down to two horses: a fiery red stallion named Jordan and a sleek, midnight-black mare named Cage.

"Go, Jordan!" Blair screamed, actually on the same side as Willow for once.

"Who are you betting on?" Willow shouted over the noise to Matthew.

"I don't need to bet," Matthew yelled back. "I already know who wins."

"How?"

"Because the owner of the red stallion is the best tactician I know," Matthew replied, nodding toward the owner's box.

Willow’s heart plummeted. She looked up. Standing in the private box, silhouetted against the sun, was Roman Vale. He wasn't watching the race. He was looking directly down at her.