CHAPTER THREE

The box was gone.

I stood in the center of my room and forced myself to look at the space again with colder eyes. The chest near the window had been opened carefully. Nothing else appeared disturbed at first glance, but the more I studied the room, the clearer the truth became. Whoever had searched it had known exactly what they wanted and where it was kept.

In my previous life, that small wooden box had sat untouched for years. I had been too busy healing wounds, settling disputes, and trying to be the Luna everyone expected. I had never opened the sealed document inside. I had never studied the old pendant or the fragile pages written in my grandmother’s hand. I had treated it like a sentimental relic instead of a warning.

Now it was missing, and the timing was too precise to be accidental.

I dropped to my knees and ran my fingers along the floorboards near the chest. Dust clung to my skin. The wood was smooth from years of use, except for one small section that felt slightly uneven. I leaned closer.

A soft knock interrupted me.

I rose quickly and smoothed my expression before calling, “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal Lydia Voss.

She looked exactly as she always had—composed, elegant, and carefully concerned. Her grey eyes moved over my face with the practiced assessment of a healer who had spent years watching me for signs of weakness.

“I heard what happened at the ceremony,” she said gently. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”

I did not invite her further into the room, but she stepped inside anyway and closed the door behind her. The soft click of the latch felt louder than it should have.

“I am fine,” I said.

Lydia’s gaze drifted toward the open chest, then back to me. “You do not look fine. Rejecting an Alpha in front of the entire pack is not a small matter, Anya. People are talking.”

“Let them talk.”

She sighed, the sound full of familiar disappointment. “You have always been stubborn when you are upset. But this is different. Garrick is not a man who accepts public humiliation easily. You need to be careful.”

I watched her closely. In my previous life, I had trusted this woman. She had guided my healing, soothed my doubts, and told me that serving the pack was the highest purpose I could have. She had also been the one who pushed me to pour more and more of my strength into others until there was nothing left.

“Someone searched my room,” I said.

Lydia’s expression did not change, but her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her sleeve. “What do you mean?”

“My grandmother’s box is missing.”

For a fraction of a second, something flickered in her eyes. It was gone almost immediately, replaced by polite confusion.

“I do not know anything about a box,” she said. “Perhaps one of the servants rearranged your things while preparing for the ceremony.”

“No servant would take it.”

Lydia stepped closer, her voice lowering. “Anya, you are under a great deal of strain. It is possible you misplaced it yourself. Your grandmother’s belongings are old. They have no real value beyond sentiment.”

I held her gaze. “Then why does the mention of them make you uncomfortable?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Because dwelling on the past will not help you now. You have created a dangerous situation for yourself. The last thing you need is to start digging into family matters that no longer concern anyone.”

“They concern me.”

“They should not.” Her tone sharpened for the first time. “Some things were buried for a reason. Leave them that way.”

The warning sat between us, clear and deliberate.

I tilted my head slightly. “You always discouraged me from asking about my mother’s family. Even when I was younger. Why?”

Lydia’s composure cracked just enough for me to see the calculation behind it. She recovered quickly, smoothing her expression into something softer.

“Because there was nothing worth knowing,” she said. “Your grandmother lived a quiet life. Romanticizing her memory will not change your present circumstances.” She moved toward the door, then paused with her hand on the handle. “You are still part of this pack, Anya. Rejecting Garrick does not erase that. Be careful how far you push.”

She left without waiting for a reply.

I remained standing long after the door closed, my pulse steady but cold. Lydia had lied. Not loudly. Not clumsily. But she had lied.

Another knock came, lighter this time.

“It’s me,” a familiar voice called.

I opened the door to find Mira. Her auburn hair was slightly windswept, and her brown eyes carried open worry. Unlike everyone else, she did not bother hiding it.

She stepped inside, closed the door, and immediately crossed her arms. “What did you do?”

“I rejected him.”

“I know that part.” She exhaled hard. “The entire pack knows that part. What I mean is… why? You have known Garrick for years. You were ready for this ceremony. And now you look at him like he is a stranger.”

I turned away and walked back toward the chest. “I cannot be his Luna.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one I can give you right now.”

Mira was silent for a moment. Then she moved closer, her voice dropping. “People are already saying you have lost your mind. Others think you planned this to humiliate him. Garrick is not going to let this go, Anya. You know how he is when he feels challenged.”

I did know. Better than she could imagine.

“I am not going back,” I said quietly.

She studied my face, searching for something that would make sense of my certainty. Whatever she found there made her frown deepen.

“You are serious.”

“Yes.”

Mira dragged a hand through her hair. “Then you need to be smarter than this. He has already restricted your movements. If you keep pushing, he will tighten the cage.”

I knelt again beside the chest and ran my fingers over the floorboards once more. The uneven section caught my attention again. I brushed away the thin layer of dust and froze.

A small symbol had been carved into the wood.

It was old, the lines worn but still clear. A crescent shape intersected by two sharp lines, forming a mark I had only seen once before in my previous life. At the time, I had not understood its meaning. I had only known that the elders refused to speak of the place it belonged to.

Mira crouched beside me. “What is that?”

I traced the carving with my fingertip. The name rose from the depths of memory like something that had been waiting for me to remember it.

“Ebonreach.”

Mira frowned. “I have never heard of it.”

“Neither had I,” I said softly. “Not until it was too late.”

The symbol sat there in the wood, quiet and deliberate, as if someone had left it behind on purpose. Or as if it had always been there, waiting for the day I finally looked down and saw it.

My grandmother’s box was missing.

Lydia was lying.

And the mark of Ebonreach had been hidden beneath my feet the entire time.

Someone in this pack had gone to great lengths to keep my family’s history buried.

I rose slowly, my decision already forming.

If they were willing to steal from me the moment I rejected Garrick, then whatever waited at Ebonreach was dangerous enough to frighten them.

And that meant I needed to find it before they decided I was too much of a threat to leave alive.