Chapter 4

For the next few days, I continued working the night shift at the bar.

Chase would occasionally return to the old chateau, but even when we crossed paths in the early hours of the morning, he acted like I didn’t exist. He never mentioned the new scars on my body, never asked, never looked twice.

He was the same as ever—cold, distant, untouchable.

Perhaps he was afraid. Afraid that if he showed even a shred of concern, I would cling to him again—like some nuisance that couldn’t let go. He wanted boundaries. A clear, brutal line drawn between us.

I understood.

And I accepted it.

It was easier to be invisible. Safer. I had long since stopped wishing for anything else.

Every night, when I stood under the shower and looked down at the fading wounds and fresh scars, I’d be reminded of everything I’d endured over the past three years.

I thought about it a lot.

I still didn’t understand how things had turned out this way.

Stories of rogue wolves overthrowing entire packs and enslaving them had always sounded like distant legends—nightmares meant to scare pups. But then it happened to us.

I almost lost my wolf that night I was slashed with a silver dagger. The pain had been unbearable.

At first, I was terrified.

But over time, the pain dulled. The fear faded. I went numb to it all—until even torture became just another part of life.

And someday soon, I would join my parents underground.

That night, I returned from bartending later than usual.

The door to the study was open.

Chase was inside, working.

I paused at the threshold, staring down at the fresh scar across my hand. The one I got tonight when someone shoved me to the ground and my skin scraped against the bar floor.

He looked calm tonight—almost gentle, maybe due to the dim glow of the study lamp. The light was softer here, not so harsh and cold.

Some strange impulse nudged me forward. I told myself: just once. Just try.

Soon, I would leave.

The old chateau. Hill Pack. Lupus Celestial.

None of this had ever belonged to me. I was just a guest—a tolerated outsider. And it was time I disappeared quietly.

As I stepped closer, Chase sensed me. He looked up and met my gaze.

I took a breath. “Chase…”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated. “What is it? Speak.”

I forced myself to stay calm as I walked into the room.

“Chase… I mean, is it possible that…”

The words caught in my throat. My palms were damp.

He narrowed his eyes, waiting.

“…That you could lend me five million dollars?”

He frowned. Confused.

“What?”

Of course he didn’t understand. Of course it sounded absurd.

I could see the impatience on his face, written in every line.

What was I even thinking?

He would be the next Lycan King—heir to vast lands and fortune—but none of that was for someone like me. He wouldn’t use a single coin to save me. I knew that.

I knew it three years ago.

I smiled faintly, playing it off. “Forget it. Just joking. It’s late… good night.”

Back in my room, I couldn’t sleep.

Even with my body aching from exhaustion, my mind wouldn’t quiet.

There was a door that opened onto the backyard.

I stepped outside.

Soft lights illuminated the yard. I sat quietly on a bench and closed my eyes, hoping for peace.

But a prickling sensation made me open them again.

A butterfly had landed gently on my hand—right on the fresh scar.

It had brushed the wound as if trying to soothe it with its wings.

I watched it cautiously, not daring to move.

Was it here to heal me?

Was it… a message?

From Mom? From Dad?

The Moon-Lake Pack had fallen into ruin. My parents died within a year of our enslavement. The Rogue Packs—lawless groups without territory, formed by exiles, traitors, and criminals—had claimed our land.

Three years ago, they took everything from us.

The butterfly fluttered its wings and rose into the air.

I stood up, slowly returning to my room.

Just as I reached the door, I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

The light in Chase’s study went out.

At the exact same moment.

I hadn’t imagined it.