Chapter 2

The efficiency with which they moved spoke of years of training together. Within moments, we were filing into the hidden tunnel, the panel sliding shut behind us with a soft click.

The passage was narrow but tall enough to stand comfortably. The walls were reinforced concrete, and the floor was smooth beneath our feet. Every twenty feet or so, recessed blue lights illuminated our way.

"How long has this been here?" I asked Uncle Mateo as we moved swiftly through the tunnel.

"Since before we opened Sneakz," he replied. "Logan insisted on it. Said you needed an escape route that bypassed public spaces."

I processed this information silently. More planning, more secrets—all revolving around keeping me hidden and safe. A lifetime of looking over my shoulder, of never belonging anywhere.

"Did my father know?" I asked quietly. "That it would come to this?"

Uncle Mateo's expression softened with grief. "Your father hoped for peace until his last breath. But he was also pragmatic. He made arrangements... just in case."

"With Logan Steel?" I pressed. "They weren't even in the same territory."

"Your father had allies in places even Dominick didn't know about," he answered cryptically.

Ahead of us, Maison's shoulders tensed at our conversation, though he didn't turn around. His heightened hearing would catch every word, of course. I wondered how much of my history Logan had shared with his sons.

The tunnel began to slope upward gradually, and after what felt like at least a mile, we reached another panel. Maison placed his palm against it, and it slid open to reveal a well-appointed room that I recognised as part of the Steel Pack's main compound. I found the nearest chair and sank into it. Tears that I wasn’t allowed to let fall and just couldn’t let fall began to fall like a tidal wave. Great, even better. Could this day get any worse?

"Don't cry," Maison said, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. He crouched down in front of me, not touching me but close enough that his scent enveloped me like a blanket. "We'll figure this out."

I wiped my tears away angrily, embarrassed at showing weakness. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

The door to the room opened, and Alpha Logan Steel strode in. Unlike his sons, who carried their authority with a certain restrained intensity, Logan wore his power like a second skin—comfortable, natural, undeniable. His silver-streaked dark hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, and his eyes—the same piercing green as Jackson's—assessed the situation instantly.

"Marabelle," he said, using my real name with a gentleness that made fresh tears threaten.

"It's just Daisy now," I corrected automatically.

Logan smiled sadly. "Of course. Old habits." He turned to Uncle Mateo. "Everything secure at Sneakz?"

"For now," Uncle Mateo confirmed. "We've initiated Protocol Seven. The staff believes there was a gas leak requiring evacuation. The building is sealed."

Logan nodded approvingly before addressing his sons. "Report."

Jackson stepped forward. "Two Graystone scouts entered the diner approximately forty minutes ago. They had Daisy's photo—her real identity, not her cover. They made no direct threats but implied they've been searching for her. We intervened, establishing her as under Steel protection without confirming her identity."

"They were followed?" Logan asked.

"Heading north," Maison confirmed. "Our trackers are maintaining distance but keeping eyes on them."

Logan absorbed this information with a short nod before turning back to me. "It seems your grace period is over, Daisy. We need to discuss next steps."

"Next steps?" I laughed hollowly. "I've been running and hiding for years. What's next—more running? A new identity? A new pack to hover on the edges of?"

"Actually," Logan said, taking a seat across from me, "I think it's time we stopped running and started fighting back."

The room fell silent. Even Uncle Mateo looked shocked.

"Fighting back?" I repeated. "Against the Graystone Pack? They're one of the oldest bloodlines in North America."

"So are the Steels," Jackson pointed out, a hint of pride in his voice.

"And so are the Graystones," I countered, touching my pendant unconsciously. "My pendant—my birthright—doesn't change the fact that Dominick has the pack's loyalty now."

Logan's expression turned grave. "Not all of them. There's been unrest in the Graystone territories for years. Your father's old allies have been waiting, watching... hoping you would return."

I stared at him, my mind spinning. "Return? I can't remember; I was exiled, which means I’m nothing more than an Omega at best or a Rogue at worst. Or what was the stray, as some of the Steel Fangs pack members call me? Honestly, I’m already tired of this conversation. We’re just going around and around. I need some time on my own to think.”

"Fine," Logan said, rising from his seat. "Take some time. But not too much—Dominick's scouts won't waste time reporting back." He gestured to a door on the far side of the room. "There's a guest suite through there. You'll be safe here."

I stood, desperate to escape the weight of their stares. "Thank you, Alpha Logan."

As I moved toward the door, Maison stepped forward. "I'll escort you."

"I don't need a babysitter," I muttered, but didn't object further when he fell into step beside me.

The guest suite was elegant but impersonal—neutral tones, plush furniture, and a distinct lack of anything that might hint at its occupant's personality. It was temporary accommodations for temporary people. It was the story of my life.

"There are clothes in the closet," Maison said, lingering in the doorway. "Probably not your style, but they should fit."

I nodded, keeping my back to him as I surveyed the room. "Thank you."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. I could feel his eyes on me, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"Why do you hate me?" The question escaped before I could stop it.

"What?" His voice registered genuine surprise.

I turned to face him. "All these years. The cold shoulders, the dismissive looks. Your pack is treating me like I'm some charity case or burden. If I'm such an important asset to protect, why treat me like dirt?"

Maison's expression shifted through several emotions before settling on something like regret. "I never hated you."

"Could have fooled me."

He ran a hand through his dark hair, a surprisingly human gesture from someone who always seemed so controlled. "Distance was... safer."

"Safer for whom?"

"For everyone." His eyes met mine, intense and unreadable. "The fewer people who knew your importance, the better. Even within our pack."

I crossed my arms. "So, the constant disdain was, what, an act?"

"Not entirely," he admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "You're frustratingly stubborn."

Despite everything, I felt a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. "Takes one to know one, Alpha."

Something flickered in his eyes at my use of his title—something hungry that disappeared so quickly I might have imagined it.

"Get some rest," he said, stepping back into the hallway. "We'll talk more later."

The door closed with a soft click, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the phantom sensation of his gaze still lingering on my skin.

I moved to the window, pulling back heavy curtains to reveal reinforced glass overlooking the Steel pack's inner courtyard. Warriors trained in pairs below, their movements fluid and deadly. Pack members crossed between buildings, some carrying supplies, others deep in conversation. Normal life continued despite the chaos that had happened.

I walked over to the bed, completely shattered by what had happened, and took the small notebook I always kept in my pocket, where I wrote notes. I had been working on a story for some time now, but now that my laptop was stuck in my room in the apartment above Sneakz, there was no chance of my getting to work on it. I jotted down my notes and then lay down on the pillows, relying on them. I fell asleep, knowing that whatever happened from here on out, there was no going back.

I woke with a jolt, disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings until memory crashed back—the Graystone scouts, the tunnel, the Steel compound. My notebook had fallen to the floor, and outside the window, darkness had settled over the courtyard. I must have slept for hours.

A soft knock at the door made me sit up, smoothing my rumpled uniform.

"Come in," I called, expecting Uncle Mateo.

Instead, a young woman entered carrying a tray of food. She had the confident posture of a warrior, though she couldn't have been more than eighteen.

"Alpha Logan thought you might be hungry," she said, setting the tray on a small table. "I'm Leah, by the way."

"Thank you, Leah." I approached the table, suddenly aware of how famished I was. The meal was simple but hearty—roasted chicken, vegetables, and fresh bread.

Leah lingered, curiosity evident in her expression. "Is what they're saying true? That you're the lost Graystone heir?"

I froze with a piece of bread halfway to my mouth. "Who's saying that?"

She shrugged. "Word travels fast in a pack. Especially when both Alphas personally escort someone through the emergency tunnels."

Great. So much for keeping a low profile.

"I'm just Daisy," I said carefully. "An employee at Sneakz who got caught up in something complicated."

Leah's smile was knowing. "Sure. Just Daisy." She headed for the door. "Alpha Maison asked to be notified when you woke up. He'd like to speak with you, if you're feeling up to it."

I swallowed hard. "I'll finish eating first."

She nodded and slipped out, leaving me to my meal and mounting anxiety. What could Maison possibly want to discuss that couldn't wait until morning?

I ate quickly and then discovered an adjoining bathroom with a shower. Grateful for the chance to wash away the stress of the day, I stepped under the hot spray, using the generic soap and shampoo provided. Afterward, I found a simple outfit in the closet—jeans and a soft gray sweater that fit surprisingly well.

Just as I finished dressing, another knock came at the door.

Maison stood in the hallway, his usual formal attire replaced by dark jeans and a Henley that did nothing to diminish his commanding presence.

"May I come in?" he asked, his voice oddly hesitant.

I stepped aside, gesturing him in. "It's your house."

"Actually, it's my father's house," he corrected with the hint of a smile. "But point taken."

He moved into the room with that predatory grace all werewolves possessed, though his seemed more pronounced somehow. Or maybe I was just more aware of it now that pretences had fallen away.

"How are you holding up?” Maison asked, his eyes seemingly searching my face for something. What?

“As expected, why are you here, Alpha Maison? You’ve made it quite clear you’ve never wanted me around. The same goes for your brother and your Alpha unit,” I stated.

Maison flinched as if my words had physically struck him. The carefully controlled Alpha facade slipped for a moment, revealing something raw underneath.

"That's not entirely accurate," he said quietly. "But I understand why you'd think that."

He moved to the window and gazed out at the darkened courtyard. The moonlight cast sharp shadows across his profile, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

"My father made it clear from the beginning that your presence needed to remain... understated. The fewer people who knew your true identity, the safer you'd be." He turned to face me. "Keeping distance was part of that strategy."

"Strategy," I repeated flatly. "So, years of cold shoulders and dismissive glances were just... what? Pack politics?"

"Partly," he admitted. "But not entirely."

I crossed my arms, waiting. If he wanted to explain himself, he'd have to do better than vague half-truths.

Maison ran a hand through his hair—a second time I'd seen that surprisingly human gesture from him. "Something about you has always been... disruptive for me."

"Disruptive?" I echoed, unsure whether to be offended or intrigued.

"You challenge everything," he said, a hint of frustration colouring his tone. "Pack hierarchy, traditions, expectations. You don't submit even when it would make your life easier. You build your own path despite everything."

I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected assessment. "And that... bothers you?"

"It fascinates me," he corrected, his voice dropping to a register that sent a shiver down my spine. "Always has."

The air between us seemed to thicken, charged with something I wasn't prepared to name. I took an instinctive step backward.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because everything's about to change," he replied. "And I needed you to know the truth before it does."

Before I could ask what he meant, the door burst open. Jackson stood there, his usual composed demeanour replaced by barely contained urgency.

"We've got trouble," he announced. "The Graystone scouts—they weren't alone. There's a whole contingent at our northern border demanding an audience."

Maison's posture shifted instantly, Alpha authority settling over him like armour. "How many?"

"At least twenty. Including Dominick himself."

My blood turned to ice. Uncle Dominick. Here. After all these years.

"He's requesting a formal meeting," Jackson continued. "Says he's come to retrieve the pack property that was stolen from him."

My hand instinctively went to my pendant, the physical symbol of my birthright, the last gift from my father.

"He means me," I whispered.

"He means the pendant," Maison corrected, his eyes flashing gold momentarily. "You're not property. Not his, not anyone's."

The fierceness in his eyes made me flinch.

“Great I’ve gone from the usual assholes to the one that killed my parents even better and all in one day,” I stated flatly.

"Not on my watch," Maison growled, his voice dropping to that dangerous Alpha tone that made the air vibrate.

Jackson's eyes flicked between us, assessing the tension. "Father's calling an emergency council. Five minutes in the great hall." He hesitated, then added, "Daisy, he wants you there too."

My stomach clenched. "To do what? Hand myself over on a silver platter?"

"To decide your own fate," Jackson replied with surprising gentleness. "No one's handing you over to anyone."

As the brothers left to prepare, Uncle Mateo slipped into the room, his face grave. He carried a small leather pouch, which he pressed into my hands.

"Your mother's," he explained softly. "She wanted you to have this when the time came."

Inside was a delicate silver chain with a small crystal vial containing what looked like liquid moonlight.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"Protection," he answered cryptically. "Wear it beneath your clothes, next to your heart."

I slipped the chain over my head, tucking the vial beneath my sweater. It felt cool against my skin but warmed instantly, as if responding to my touch.

The walk to the great hall was tense, with Mateo on one side and a Steel pack warrior on the other. Pack members we passed stared openly, some with curiosity, others with suspicion. Word had definitely spread.

The great hall lived up to its name—vaulted ceilings, massive timber beams, and walls adorned with the Steel pack's history in paintings and artifacts and at the far end sat a raised dais with three ornate chairs. Logan occupied the centre one, with his sons standing on either side.

As I approached, Logan gestured to a seat at his right, just below the dais. The position was significant, not a pack, but an honoured guest. I took it silently, aware of the many eyes watching my every move.

"Dominick Graystone has requested audience to retrieve what he claims is stolen property," Logan announced to the assembled pack members. "He waits at our northern border with twenty of his wolves."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"What property?" someone called out.

Logan's eyes flicked briefly to me. "That remains to be discussed."

"Are we allowing him entry?" asked an older woman I recognised as one of the pack elders.

"A small delegation only," Logan replied. "Under strict conditions."

I leaned toward Mateo. "I should leave. Now. Before he arrives."

"Running won't solve this," he whispered back. "It's time to face him."

Before I could argue further, the great doors swung open. Flanked by Steel warriors, three figures entered—two massive guards and between them, a man whose face had haunted my nightmares for years.

Dominick Graystone had aged since I'd last seen him, silver threads now woven; the sight of him made me freeze in place. As a small child he use to read me bedtime stories than all of a sudden he decided that he had enough and wanted the pack for himself not that it would have mattered I couldn’t take the place of heir if he had had a son Alpha She wolves had no right to inherit the pack if a male heir was born regardless of which sibling it came from. So I found it hard to believe why he wanted me now, other than me dead.

Dominick's gaze swept the hall with calculated precision, the cruel twist of his mouth exactly as I remembered. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face when his eyes landed on me.

"Niece," he said, his voice carrying the same silky menace that had ordered my parents' execution. "How you've grown."

I remained silent, every muscle in my body coiled tight. The pendant against my chest seemed to pulse with warmth, while my mother's vial turned ice-cold beneath my sweater.

Logan stood, his authority filling the room. "You requested an audience, Dominick. State your business."

Dominick gave a mocking bow. "Direct as always, Logan. Very well." He straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive suit. "I've come to retrieve pack property—specifically, the Graystone Alpha pendant currently in possession of this... runaway."

His eyes never left mine as he spoke, searching for weakness, for fear. I refused to give him the satisfaction, meeting his gaze steadily despite the trembling I fought to control.

"The pendant belongs to the rightful Alpha of the Graystone Pack," I said, my voice stronger than I expected. "Which you are not."

Gasps rippled through the hall. Even Maison looked surprised at my boldness.

Dominick's smile didn't waver, but his eyes hardened to flint. "Such spirit. Just like your mother before I tore out her throat."

The casual cruelty of his words hit me like a physical blow. A growl rose unbidden in my throat—a sound I hadn't allowed myself to make in years.

"Enough," Logan commanded, stepping between us. "Dominick, the pendant is a birthright, not pack property to be claimed. Your request is denied."

"Is it a request?" Dominick's smile turned dangerous. "I have twenty warriors at your border, Logan. And many more are waiting for my signal. The girl means nothing to you—she's not pack. She's no longer a proper wolf, hiding behind human pretences."

I felt Maison shift beside me, tension radiating from him in waves. His hand moved imperceptibly closer to mine on the armrest of my chair.

"She is under Steel Fangs' protection," Logan stated firmly. "Your threats mean nothing here."

Dominick laughed, the sound chilling. "Protection? From what I understand, she's been little more than a tolerated stray. A burden you've endured as a favour to a dead Alpha."

His words struck too close to how I'd felt all these years—unwanted, merely tolerated. I saw Jackson flinch slightly, as if the accusation held truth he recognized.

"You're mistaken," Maison said, his voice deadly quiet. "Daisy Thompson is more than protected here. She is valued."

The unexpected declaration sent a jolt through me. I glanced up at him, but his eyes remained fixed on my biological uncle's face. What the fuck was he doing?

But his Alpha unit didn’t disappoint. Beta Dean spoke, “Let the mut deal with her own problems, it doesn’t belong here in the Steel Fangs pack.”

Maison whipped around, his eyes flashing dangerously gold. "Dean," he snarled, the single word carrying the full weight of Alpha command. "Stand down."

The Beta's eyes widened at the intensity of Maison's reaction, his body automatically lowering in submission despite the defiance still evident in his expression.

Dominick watched this exchange with naked interest, his calculating gaze shifting between Maison and me. "Well, well. It seems I've stumbled upon something rather... unexpected." His smile widened, revealing teeth too sharp for polite company. "The Steel heir has a soft spot for my niece."

"This isn't about personal feelings," Logan interjected smoothly. "This is about pack law and sanctuary. Marabelle Graystone was granted formal asylum by the Steel Fangs pack after your illegal coup."

"Illegal?" Dominick's eyebrows shot up in mock offence. "I challenged for leadership according to our most ancient traditions. My brother fell. The pack recognized me as Alpha."

"After you orchestrated the death of half the council members loyal to my father," I said, rising to my feet. The pendant seemed to burn against my skin now, its heat spreading through my chest. "After you murdered my mother in cold blood while she begged for my life."

A hush fell over the great hall. Even Dean looked shaken by my words.

"Such dramatic accusations," Dominick sighed. "But irrelevant now. The past is past. I've come for what belongs to the Graystone pack – the Alpha pendant and its bearer."

Jackson stepped forward. "The pendant belongs to Daisy by birthright. And she belongs nowhere she doesn't choose to be."

"How noble," Dominick sneered. "But ultimately foolish. I'm not leaving without what I came for."

"Then you're not leaving," Maison stated flatly.

Dominick's guards tensed, hands moving toward concealed weapons. The Steel warriors responded in kind, the atmosphere in the hall crackling with imminent violence.

I felt a strange calm descend over me, clarity cutting through fear. The vial against my heart pulsed once, filling me with unexpected resolve.

"I'll go," I announced.

All eyes turned to me in shock.

"Daisy, no—" Uncle Mateo began.

I held up my hand. "Not permanently. And not as his prisoner." I stepped forward, looking Dominick directly in the eyes. "I challenge you for leadership of the Graystone pack."

Dominick's face registered genuine surprise before breaking into delighted laughter. "You? Challenge me? You're not even a proper wolf anymore, little girl. You've played human for so long, I doubt you even remember how to shift."

"The challenge is my right by blood," I pressed. "Or are you afraid to face a 'little girl' who's been playing human?"

His amusement vanished, replaced by cold fury.

"I accept your challenge," Dominick said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Though I doubt your father would recognise what you've become."

The room erupted in shocked murmurs. Logan's face remained impassive, but I caught the subtle nod he gave Maison, who immediately stepped closer to me.

"The challenge will be conducted according to ancient law," Logan announced, silencing the hall. "On neutral territory, three days hence, at the full moon's peak."

"Three days?" Dominick scoffed. "Why the delay? Afraid she needs time to remember how to be a wolf?"

I kept my expression neutral despite the truth in his taunt. I hadn't fully shifted in years—a necessary precaution to maintain my cover. The thought of facing an Alpha wolf in combat made my stomach clench with dread, but I refused to show it.

"Three days is traditional," Jackson stated. "It allows for proper witnesses from both packs and neutral observers."

Dominick's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Very well. Three days. The Crescent Valley clearing." He turned to me with mock concern. "Do try to show up, niece. It would be such a disappointment to claim victory by forfeit."

As he turned to leave, he paused beside me. "That pendant looks lovely on you," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Just as it did on your mother before I ripped it from her throat."

I held perfectly still, not trusting myself to respond without violence. The vial beneath my sweater pulsed again, cooling my rage to something more focused, more dangerous.

The moment the great doors closed behind Dominick and his guards, chaos erupted.

"Have you lost your mind?" Uncle Mateo grabbed my shoulders. "He'll kill you!"

"He'll try," I replied, surprising myself with my calm.

Dean pushed forward. "This is insane. She can't even shift properly anymore. She'll embarrass us all."

"That's enough, Dean," Maison growled.

Logan raised his hand, and silence fell immediately. "Everyone out except for the council, my sons, Mateo, and Daisy."

The hall emptied quickly, though reluctantly. When only the requested people remained, Logan turned to me with grave concern.

"That was either the bravest or most foolish thing I've ever witnessed," he said. "And I'm not yet sure which."

"It was necessary," I replied. "He won't stop hunting me. At least this way, I choose the battlefield."

"You haven't shifted in years," Uncle Mateo said gently. "And even at your strongest, challenging an Alpha..."

"Is suicide," Dean interjected, earning a warning glare from Maison.

"Not necessarily," Jackson said thoughtfully. "The pendant gives her an advantage. It contains the power of generations of Graystone Alphas."

I touched the wolf pendant at my though, “Firstly Dean fuck off if I didn’t know better it almost sounds like you had been feeding my asshole Uncle information because that little pet name for me has your paws all over it. As for not being able to shift who said I can’t shift into Star.” I said shifting my hand into a paw with the stormy colouring a mixture of both my parent’s wolves.

The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on my partially shifted hand. The stormy fur—neither pure white like my mother's nor midnight black like my father's, but a swirling blend of both—rippled as I flexed my claws.

"You've been practicing," Uncle Mateo whispered, wonder and concern battling in his expression.

I let my hand shift back to human form, the transformation smooth and controlled. "Did you really think I'd spend all these years playing human without maintaining my wolf? Star may not have run free, but she's always been with me."

Dean's face had paled considerably. "That doesn't mean you can take down an Alpha," he muttered, though with noticeably less conviction.

"He's right about that much," Logan said, his tone measured. "Partial shifts are one thing. Combat against a seasoned Alpha is another entirely."

“Honestly though some of these pricks took make notice, allow me to enlighten you dumb fuck Dean I train with my families technics three times week when not on shift at Sneakz, between my Uni and homework of which I can’t do now. And the families dirty little secret the reason my uncle found my mother so beneath my father is because she was a Moon Wolf the last pure breed one the last of her line and she was my father’s fated mate which makes me a mix breed. As for shift fully yeah I can do that too. Sorry Uncle Mateo I know wasn’t meant to be doing any of that.” I spat more at Dean than anyone.

Uncle Mateo's expression shifted between shock and something like pride. "I suspected you were training, but I didn't realize you'd maintained so much control."

Dean took an involuntary step back, his usual arrogance faltering. "A Moon Wolf? That's impossible. They're extinct."

"Clearly not," Jackson said quietly, his analytical mind visibly reassessing everything he thought he knew about me.

Maison hadn't spoken, but his eyes hadn't left my face since my revelation. There was something intense in his gaze that made my skin prickle with awareness.

"A Moon Wolf bloodline explains much," Logan said, breaking the tense silence. "Including why Dominick was so determined to eliminate your mother's influence from the pack."

I nodded, the pendant warm against my skin. "Moon Wolves were considered too unpredictable, too connected to ancient magic rather than brute strength. My father's decision to mate with one was seen as weakening the bloodline, not strengthening it."

"But Moon Wolves possess abilities other werewolves don't," one of the council elders said, leaning forward. "Abilities that have been lost to most packs for generations."

"Which is exactly why we need to prepare you properly for this challenge," Logan stated, his decision apparently made. "Three days isn't much time, but it's something."

"I'll train her," Maison said suddenly, his voice brooking no argument.

Jackson raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Both of us will. She'll need different fighting styles to counter Dominick's experience."

Logan nodded his approval. "Mateo, you knew her father's fighting technique better than anyone. You'll join them."

Uncle Mateo looked troubled but nodded. "I've watched Dominick fight many times. He's vicious but predictable if you know what to look for."

I took a deep breath, the reality of what I'd initiated finally sinking in. "Thank you. All of you."

"Don't thank us yet," Jackson said grimly. "The next three days will be the hardest of your life."

"First things first," Maison interjected, his eyes still fixed on me. "We need to see your full shift. Now."

The command in his voice triggered something primal in me—a response to Alpha authority that I'd suppressed for years. I bristled automatically.

"Here? In front of everyone?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "We need to assess what we're working with."

I glanced around the great hall, at the faces watching me expectantly. Some with doubt, others with curiosity, and Maison with that unreadable intensity that made my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin.

"Fine," I conceded, stepping into the open space in the centre of the hall.

I closed my eyes, reaching for the part of myself I'd kept carefully controlled for so long. Star responded eagerly, surging forward from the depths where she lay down in my mind, -So it's time then? -

-Yup, sure is.- I replied.

-Then let’s make the asshole Dean eat his words. - Star smirked.

I let Star's essence flow through me, the familiar burn of the shift spreading from my core to my limbs. Unlike many werewolves who found shifting painful, Moon Wolves experienced it as a rush of power—like diving into icy water and emerging stronger. The pendant at my throat pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, accelerating the transformation.

My bones cracked and reformed, muscles stretching and compressing as fur erupted across my skin—not the solid black of my father's line or the pure white of my mother's, but a stunning interplay of both. Stormy gray with streaks of silver and midnight swirled through my coat like living shadows.

As the shift completed, I stood before them in my true form—larger than a typical female wolf, my shoulders reaching higher than most males', and eyes that retained their human blue rather than shifting to gold or amber—the mark of a Moon Wolf.

"Holy shit," Dean whispered, all arrogance evaporated.

I turned in a slow circle, letting them see the full manifestation of Star—my wolf half that had been denied freedom for too long. My movements were fluid, controlled, unlike the rusty shifting they'd expected.

Uncle Mateo's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You look so much like them both," he said softly. "Your father's strength, your mother's grace."

Maison approached slowly, his posture deliberately non-threatening despite his Alpha status. He circled me once, assessing with a professional eye that couldn't quite mask his amazement.

"You've been holding back," he said, not a question but a realisation.

I huffed in response, the wolf equivalent of a sardonic laugh.

Logan stepped forward, his expression grave but impressed. "A full Moon Wolf shift, maintained with perfect control after years of suppression. Remarkable."

I shifted back smoothly, the transformation reversing itself with practised ease until I stood human again, straightening my clothes with as much dignity as possible.

"Star and I have an understanding," I explained. "She stays hidden but not dormant."

"Star?" Jackson inquired.

"My wolf's name," I replied. "Every Moon Wolf has a distinct personality and name."

Dean muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "freak," but Maison's sharp look silenced him.

"This changes things," Logan said. "You're more prepared than we anticipated, but Dominick is still a formidable opponent."

"We begin training at dawn," Maison declared. "The clearing behind the training grounds. Come prepared to work harder than you ever have."

I nodded, suddenly exhausted from the full shift and the day's emotional turmoil. "I'll be there."

As the meeting dispersed, Jackson lingered behind. When we were alone except for Maison, he approached me with unusual hesitation.

"I owe you an apology," he said formally. "For years of... misunderstanding."

“It's fine. I was an outcast in my own pack, so being one here felt almost normal. Regards, I should get some sleep tomorrow. I was meant to train anyway, so it makes no difference to me,” I said, walking towards the door.

Maison stepped in front of me before I could reach the door. "Wait."