HER RETURN

 The invitation was still laying on my bed when I got home. Thick parchment, deep crimson wax. an alpha's seal pressed into the surface.

I didn't need to open it.

Only one pack still had the authority to summon me. Only one place in the world I had sworn never to  return to.

Five years ago, I ran from that pack with nothing but a suitcase and a shattered heart. I left behind my family, my pack and the boy who broke me into a million pieces.

I rebult my life from scratch; away from the hurt, pain; somewhere safe.

Or so I thought.

My fingers trembled as I finally broke the seal.

By order of the Alpha, your presence is required for the coronation of his heir. Failure to appear will be considered an act of defiace aainst the pack.

"Fuck!!!" I screamed loudly.

​I threw the paper across the room, watching it flutter to the floor like a dying bird. My chest heaved as five years of suppressed memories came rushing back: the laughter in the hallways, the cold rejection in his eyes, the feeling of being completely and utterly alone in a crowd of my own kind.

​I sank onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. An act of defiance meant being hunted. It meant being declared a rogue.

​They weren't just asking me to come home. They were dragging me back to the scene of the crime.

​I looked at the crumpled invitation on the floor. He was being crowned. The boy who destroyed me was becoming the man who would lead them.

​My wolf stirred, a low, bitter growl vibrating in my throat. For five years, we had been silent. But now, she was waking up.

​"You want me there?" I whispered to the empty room, my eyes hardening. "Fine. But you're not getting the girl you broke."

I spent the next morning packing with vengeance. If I had to walk back into that lion’s den, I wasn't going as the girl in oversized hoodies and tear-stained cheeks.

I got to the airport as fast as I could. I just wanted to go.....and leave just as quickly.

​The flight was a blur of rising anxiety. By the time the plane touched down, my nerves were stretched thin. The familiar scent of everything made my skin crawl. 

I grabbed my suitcase and walked straight out of the airport, ignoring the way my chest tightened with every step closer to the territory I had once sworn off forever.  

At the hotel lobby, everything was polished glass and quiet luxury and human. Exactly the way I liked it. 

​"One suite. One night," I told the receptionist, sliding my credit card across the counter. 

The receptionist barely glanced at me before handing over the keycard, her smile polite and impersonal.

I took the elevator up alone, the soft music doing nothing to calm me.  As the doors slammed, my reflection stared back at me, bringing back memories.

FLASHBACK....

I was eighteen, clutching my books to my chest as lauhter followed me down the hallway.

"Did you really think he'd want someone like you?" the voice echoed in my head.

The doors chimed, snappiing me back to the present.

​

​By the time I reached my suite, my nerves were a live wire. I needed to noise, a distraction.

​I stripped, letting my clothes fall where they landed, and ordered a bottle of whiskey and a steak from room service. I didn't bother with a robe. I liked the feeling of the cold AC on my bare skin; it reminded me I was alive.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Liam❤️

You landed? Call me when you can.

Liam, my boyfriend, was my safe space. Human. Steady. He liked brunch and bookstores and the way I pretended not to flinch at loud noises. He had no idea what a coronation meant or why I left. I told him I had an urgent "family meeting" to attend. 

I flipped the phone face-down.

​A knock sounded ten minutes later.

​I didn't reach for a towel. I walked to the door, cracked it open, and felt the shift in the air. The guy standing there was young, human, and clearly caught off guard. He was holding the tray, his eyes widening as they dropped from my face to... well, everything else.

Guilt slid under my ribs.

Just tonight, I told myself. I deserve one night where I’m not the broken girl or the loyal girlfriend. I just wanted to feel something to get my mind of this shitty feeling.

​"Your order, ma'am," he stammered, his pulse jumping in his neck.

​I leaned against the doorframe, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across my lips.

​"Bring it in," I said, stepping back to let him pass.

​He set the tray on the table, his hands shaking so hard the silver clinked. He turned to leave, but I stepped into his path, my hand landing on his chest. His heart was hammering.

​"You look tense," I whispered, my fingers tracing the line of his uniform. "I’m tense, too. Stay. I’ll tip you well."

​I didn't like him. I didn't even know his name. But as I pulled him toward the silk sheets, I wasn't thinking about the coronation or this hell of a town. For an hour, I was the one in control. 

I slept before the coronation, waking just before midnight; the hour wolves preferred for their ceremonies. 

​I showered, the hot water washing away the scent of the human boy, and stepped into the emerald dress. The silk felt like liquid ice against my skin. The slit ran high up my thigh, and the back dipped low enough to show the scar on my shoulder—the mark of the night I chose to be a ghost.

​I looked at my reflection. Blood-red lipstick. Sleek hair. 

​"Time to go to a funeral," I muttered to the mirror. "Specifically, the funeral of the girl you think I am."

​I took the car I rented and headed straight to the coronation hall.

​The coronation hall was a nightmare of ribbons and red carpets. It looked like a wedding, which made me want to gag. I was halfway to the entrance when I smelled them.

​"Ava?"

​My mother’s voice sounded like a ghost. I turned, my heels clicking like a countdown on the pavement.

​My parents stood by a sleek red car, looking like they’d seen a dead woman walking. My father’s eyes took in my dress, the mark on my back, and the way I carried myself not like a submissive daughter, but like a queen who had lost her crown and didn't want it back.

​"What are you doing here?" my father barked, his Alpha-loyalist pride clashing with his shock. "The Alpha said you were summoned, but we thought you'd have the decency to come home first."

​"Home?" I laughed, the sound sharp and metallic. I held up my hotel keycard, the plastic glinting in the sun. "I have a room with a view and a mini-bar that doesn't judge me. That’s enough home for one weekend."

​"Ava, honey," my mother reached out, her eyes watering. "You look... different. You look hurt."

​"I look expensive, Mother," I corrected her, stepping out of her reach. "And I’m here for the show. Nothing more. Don't expect me to sit with the family. I’m just a guest of the Alpha, remember?"

​I left them standing there in the dust of their own regret.

​As I walked toward the Great Hall, the drums began to beat. A low, primal thrum that vibrated up through my stilettos. The coronation was starting.

​I pushed through the heavy oak doors, and the scent of two hundred wolves hit me like a physical wall. But there was one scent, one dark, familiar, intoxicating scent,that rose above the rest.

​My wolf, silent for five years, suddenly let out a deafening howl in the back of my mind.

​MATE.

​I froze. My eyes locked onto the stage, where Jaxson Hale stood with a crown in his hand and a look of horror on his face.