Serena The ride home was quiet. Ari slept with his head on my lap, soft breaths fogging the quilt pulled over his face. The roads blurred past the windows, wet with last night’s rain. Forests. Empty fields. A world moving on like nothing had happened. But everything had. Kael had claimed his son. Mirah had watched it. And the Elders—they knew now. It was only a matter of time. The moment we reached the edge of town, my heart began to settle. Not because I felt safe, but because I knew this place. These streets. The cracked sidewalk outside the bakery. The rusted mailbox with its crooked lid. The people who waved even when they didn’t know your name. This wasn’t just where I hid after being thrown away. This was where I rebuilt. Where I became something stronger. Our building came into view. Third floor. One window cracked open. A flowerpot still hanging from the balcony railing, wilted but alive. Home. Not perfect. Not protected. But ours. The driver
Serena’s POV I didn’t sleep. Even with Ari safe, breathing gently beside me in the softest bed I’d ever touched—my body wouldn’t rest. Not while the woman who tried to hurt him still breathed down the hall. Not while the man who’d thrown us away two years ago stood at our door like a guard dog that finally remembered what it was supposed to protect. I sat by the window, watching the horizon shift from black to blue, waiting for the courage that had never truly left me. Kael had claimed Ari. And I’d seen the pain it cost him. The weight of it. The truth hitting him like a blade to the ribs. But that didn’t erase what he’d done. A father claiming his son isn’t redemption. It’s the bare minimum. — By morning, I’d made up my mind. Ari stirred beside me, and I bent low, kissing his damp curls. His skin was cooler now, his breathing steady. But his body was still weak. He needed peace. Safety. A mother’s love, not politics. And definitely not a mansion where
Serena The doors closed behind me with a heavy thud. It wasn’t just the sound of the mansion swallowing me whole again. It was the sound of fate locking into place. I was back. Kael walked beside me, silent, his long strides matching my slower ones as I carried Ari through the marble halls. The mansion was just as I remembered—cold floors, high ceilings, windows that let the morning light in but never the warmth. But this time, every step I took left a mark. The maids froze when they saw me. They whispered behind gloved hands, eyes darting between my pale face and the boy in my arms. Kael said nothing. He didn’t stop walking. I held Ari tighter as we moved through the halls. His skin was burning again, and his little body shivered even through the layers of fabric wrapped around him. “He needs help,” I said, my voice sharp, breaking the silence between us. Kael’s jaw tensed. “I’ve already sent for the pack doctor.” I hated the way his voice still had that com
Serena The moment I named him, something inside me settled. “Ari,” I whispered as I held him close in the quiet of our little room. His skin still soft and warm, his silver eyes blinking up at me like they already knew too much. It was the name I’d chosen before he was even born. It meant lion-hearted. It meant brave. And to me, it meant mine. — Ari was the light that pulled me out of the darkest night of my life. He grew faster than I imagined. Within months, he was crawling across the floor with wild determination. By the time he turned two, he was running—bare feet slapping against the old wooden boards of our apartment, giggling as he chased the light pouring through the window. “Mama!” he shouted, his voice bright as morning. He called me that every day. Sometimes twenty times in a row, just to hear me say, yes, Ari? again and again. Other times, it was softer—when he was tired or scared or hurt. A little whisper as he reached for me, arms stretching w
Serena Time passed like a whisper. Some days felt like they would never end. Others vanished before I could even understand them. But every single one built something. A routine. A rhythm. A quiet kind of peace. The bakery grew warmer with each sunrise. When we first started working there, it was small—barely five customers a day, and most of them just wanted coffee and day-old bread. But after Ma joined, everything changed. She brought her old recipes with her—the ones she used to cook back at the Moonclaw estate. Warm honey-butter rolls. Soft, garlic-twisted loaves. Fluffy meat-stuffed buns that sold out before the sun even fully rose. She never bragged about it. She just worked with a quiet kind of magic. And people noticed. Word spread across the town. Now the line started before dawn. There was laughter in the kitchen, flour on our faces, and warmth in our chests. The woman who owned the bakery gave Ma her own key. She gave me a stool to sit on when my belly got t
Serena The wind was cold. Colder than I expected for this time of year, and colder still because we had nothing but a thin blanket of hope wrapped around our shoulders. The clothes on our backs were wrinkled from hurried packing, our bags heavy with everything we owned—which wasn’t much. Just a few dresses, some savings my mother had hidden away over the years, and a soul-crushing silence we hadn’t been able to shake since we were cast out. We had left the Moonclaw estate just before dawn. No fanfare. No goodbye. Just shadows and guards who didn’t bother looking us in the eyes as we walked through the gates one last time. I didn’t cry when we left. I was numb. But now, as we stepped into the streets of a small, unfamiliar town—miles away from the forested wealth and elegance of the estate—I felt the tears burning at the edge of my eyes again. This place wasn’t much. The buildings were old but not falling apart. Simple brick and cement, most of them two