La troisième lettre était un adieu

I stood at the edge of the ballroom, my black gown a shadow against the gleaming marble walls of the Golden Compass. The air hummed with strained conversation, punctuated by the occasional forced laugh. Despite the summit's lofty goals of unity, the room had divided itself as surely as oil separates from water; werewolves clustered to the left, Lycans to the right, the invisible boundary between us maintained by centuries of mistrust. My role as gamma of the Blood Moon Pack meant I was supposed to help bridge these divides, but I felt more like a sentry at the border, watching for signs of trouble.

Crystal chandeliers spilled warm light across the gathering, catching on jewels and cufflinks, creating constellations of reflected brilliance. 

"You look like you're cataloguing escape routes," my brother's voice came from behind me, tinged with amusement.

I turned to face Elijah, his broad shoulders filling out his midnight-blue suit with effortless authority. As Alpha of Blood Moon, he wore our pack's formal regalia; silver embroidery depicting our ancestral territory woven through his lapels, our emblem pinned above his heart.

"Just observing," I replied, accepting the glass of champagne he offered. "Old habits."

"Still our vigilant gamma." Elena appeared at his side, her honey-blonde hair swept into an elaborate updo that highlighted the elegant curve of her neck. Her gown shimmered in deep burgundy, our pack's colour rendered in flowing silk. "Though you might consider at least pretending to enjoy yourself, Emma. The other packs are watching."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what would you suggest? Perhaps I should wander into the Lycan side and ask someone to dance?"

Elijah's laugh was quiet but genuine. "That would certainly make a statement."

"A statement or an incident," I murmured, sipping the champagne. It tasted of summer fruit and hidden sharpness; like the evening itself.

Elena touched my arm, her fingers warm through the thin fabric of my sleeve. "We understand your caution, but remember why we're here. This summit is the first of its kind. King Theodore has extended an unprecedented hand to the werewolf packs."

"A hand, not necessarily friendship," I countered, though I kept my voice low. The Lycans' hearing was keener than ours. "One summit doesn't erase centuries of looking down on us as lesser creatures."

Elijah's expression sobered. "No, but it's a beginning. And beginnings matter."

I nodded, acknowledging the gentle rebuke. My brother had worked tirelessly to secure Blood Moon's invitation to this gathering. As one of the oldest and most respected werewolf packs, our presence carried weight. I wouldn't undermine his diplomatic efforts with my lingering scepticism.

"I'll play nice," I promised, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from my dress. "Just don't expect miracles."

Elena's smile was knowing. "I’d never expect miracles, just your particular brand of diplomatic charm."

I snorted softly. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Around us, conversations ebbed and flowed like tides. Werewolf alphas congregated near the western windows, their betas and gammas hovering protectively nearby. The Lycans maintained their distance, their garments were more elaborate than ours; layers of embroidered silk and ceremonial metals that clinked softly when they moved.

A server approached, offering delicate pastries filled with rare mountain herbs and spiced meats. I selected one, nodding my thanks. The flavours burst across my tongue; wild rosemary, juniper, and something unfamiliar that must be unique to the Royal City's cuisine. Even in food, the blending of traditions was tentative, experimental.

"The Silver Fang delegation is watching you," Elijah murmured, his eyes flicking briefly toward a group of werewolves whose gray and silver attire marked them as our closest neighbouring pack.

I resisted the urge to look directly at them. "Should I be concerned?"

"Their new alpha has been asking questions about you," Elena said, her tone casual though her eyes were alert. "Nothing concerning, just... interested."

I suppressed a sigh. I was considered well into maturity for a werewolf, and my unmated status had become a point of speculation among the packs. That I had once had a mate was known but rarely discussed openly. The concept of a second chance mate was rare enough to be almost mythical, and I had long ago accepted that my future would not include one.

"Political or personal interest?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Elijah's mouth twitched. "Both, I suspect. Blood Moon's gamma would be a valuable alliance."

"And I'm just so charming," I added dryly.

Elena laughed, the sound like wind chimes. "You do have your moments, when you choose to."

The subtle shift in the room's energy registered before any visual change. Conversations faltered, bodies straightened, and a gentle hush descended like snow. The Lycans moved first, their movements synchronized as they turned toward the main entrance. Even without looking, I knew what this meant.

"The King," Elijah said quietly, setting down his glass. "Remember protocol."

As one, we turned toward the entrance. The massive doors had opened silently, revealing a contingent of royal guards in ceremonial armor that gleamed with embedded moonstone. They moved with fluid grace, taking positions along the perimeter of the entrance. And then he appeared.

King Theodore Lykoudis entered without announcement… none was needed. His presence filled the room like an incoming tide, unavoidable and transformative. He stood taller than most Lycans, his powerful frame clothed in midnight blue and silver that caught the light with each movement. Unlike the elaborate dress of his nobles, his attire spoke of restrained elegance; quality over ostentation. A single band of platinum circled his brow, set with moonstones that seemed to capture and amplify the ambient light.

As protocol demanded, every head in the room, Lycan and werewolf alike, bowed in acknowledgment. I lowered mine with the others, though something in me bristled at the gesture. Werewolves bowed to their alphas out of respect and choice, not obligation.

And then it happened.

As my head lowered, I drew in a breath… and the world tilted on its axis.

The scent hit me like a physical blow: cedar forests after rain, sun-warmed stone, wild honey, and something primal and electric that made every nerve in my body simultaneously come alive and freeze in place. My lungs seized, refusing to exhale as the scent wrapped around me, through me, marking itself upon my very cells.

"Holy shit," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.

This was impossible. This couldn't be happening. Not here. Not now.