Chapter 12

Evelyn’s POV

My father’s words still hung between us like a verdict.

“Shadowfang Pack.”

I stared at him, certain I had misheard.

“No,” I said flatly. “Absolutely not.”

His silver-blue eyes—mirror images of my own—remained steady.

“Evelyn—”

“You know what that place did to me,” I cut in, voice rising despite myself. “Seven years, Father. Seven years of pretending to be less than I was, of swallowing humiliation after humiliation, of loving a man who chose ambition and another woman over me every single day, a man who locked me in prison. And now—after I finally escape—you’re sending me back?”

I took a step toward him, hands clenched at my sides.

“Why would you do this to me? You, of all people, know exactly what I endured there.”

He didn’t flinch, but his expression softened—just a fraction.

“The throne does not care about your personal history with the Shadowfang Alpha,” he said quietly. “It cares only about the stability of the continent. Most of the troubling reports—the staged border skirmishes, the diverted silver shipments, the whispers of rebellion—trace back to his territory. If you truly wish to rule one day, you must put aside your differences with Alexander Thorne. You must go there, observe, and—if necessary—work with him to root out the rot before it spreads.”

I laughed, sounding bitter and broken.

“Work with him?” I shook my head. “I’m not going back there. I will never go back there.”

“Evelyn—”

“No.” I turned away, the midnight gown swirling around my ankles like a storm cloud. “Find someone else.”

I walked out—past the guards who straightened in surprise, down the marble corridors that had once been my playground, straight to my chambers.

The heavy door slammed behind me with a finality that echoed through the palace wing.

I leaned against it, chest heaving, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

Shadowfang.

Alexander’s territory.

His home.

The place where I had lost myself piece by piece.

I would not go back.

I could not.

But even as I told myself that, a small, cold voice whispered in the back of my mind:

You are the heir.

And heirs do not run from duty.

Not even when it leads them straight into the arms of the man who broke their heart.

I paced, fury and hurt churning inside me like a storm.

How could my own father do this? After everything I’d told him—how could he send me back there?

Why me?

Why couldn’t he send someone else—anyone else?

Because you are the heir, that cold voice returned to my head. The future Queen. The one who is supposed to be strong enough for this.

I stopped in the middle of the room, chest heaving.

Strong enough.

I wasn’t sure I was anymore.

For the first time since returning home, doubt crept in like frost across glass.

Maybe… maybe I didn’t want this.

Maybe life would be easier—simpler—if I stepped aside. Let Cassian take the throne. He was born for it, and he wouldn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t flinch at the thought of facing an ex-mate who had chosen another woman over him.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to breathe through the rising panic.

I didn’t want to go back.

I didn’t want to see Alexander’s face, hear Scarlett’s voice, walk the halls where I’d once walked as his wife and now would walk as… what? A stranger with borrowed authority?

The weight of the crown suddenly felt unbearable.

I wasn’t ready to carry it.

Not if this was what it demanded.

I forced myself to the window, gripping the stone sill, drawing in slow, deliberate breaths of the cold night air.

Calm.

I had to calm down.

A knock sounded at the door.

I froze, wiping my face quickly.

“Who is it?”

Another knock—soft this time.

I ignored it.

The door opened anyway.

My father stepped inside alone, closing it gently behind him. He didn’t speak at first, just watched me with that steady, centuries-old patience that had always both comforted and infuriated me.

I stopped pacing and faced him, arms crossed tight.

“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t try to change my mind.”

He inclined his head. “I won’t command you. Not tonight.”

That surprised me enough to stay silent.

He moved to the window, gazing out over the kingdom bathed in moonlight.

“Do you remember the night your mother died?” he asked quietly.

The question hit like a blade between the ribs. I hadn’t expected it.

I nodded, throat tight.

“You were eight,” he continued. “You came to the throne room covered in blood—hers—and demanded to know why the healers couldn’t save her. You said, ‘If you’re the king, make them fix her.’”

I remembered. The memory was sharp and painful: the metallic scent of blood on my small hands, the way the courtiers had parted like waves, the raw grief in his eyes when he knelt and told me even kings couldn’t stop death.

“I failed you that night,” he said. “I couldn’t save her. But I swore I would never fail this kingdom the same way.”

He turned to me.

“Right now, packs are arming themselves with stolen silver. Borders are bleeding. Old hatreds are being stoked into flames. If we do nothing, thousands will die—Lycan and werewolf alike. Mothers. Daughters. Children who will never understand why.”

His voice remained calm, but every word landed like stone.

“I am asking you—not commanding—to go to Shadowfang because you are the only one who can stop this before it becomes war. You know that pack’s heart better than any spy I could send. You know its Alpha’s ambitions, his weaknesses, his blind spots.”

I looked away, tears burning.

He stepped closer.

“I know what going back will cost you. I know the memories waiting there. But the crown is not a gift, Evelyn. It is a burden. And one day, it will be yours to carry alone.”

Silence stretched between us.

I thought of the continent—of innocent lives caught in pack wars, of the fragile peace my father had maintained for centuries.

I thought of the girl I’d been: the one who had run away to chase love, who had hidden her strength to keep a man who never truly saw her.

And I thought of the woman I was becoming: the one who would not run again.

My voice came out rough. “If I do this… I go as the Kingdom’s envoy. Not as his wife. Not as the omega he remembers. And if he—or anyone—stands in my way…”

My father’s eyes gleamed with fierce pride.

“Then you remind them who you are.”

I exhaled slowly, the decision settling like armor around my heart.

“I’ll go.”

He rested a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“That’s my daughter. That’s my Queen.”

I didn’t smile.

In the silence that followed my father’s words, I stared out the window—at the kingdom stretching below us—my home, my blood, my responsibility.

I’m only doing this because I know what it takes to keep a kingdom from falling apart, I told myself. I love this land too much—its people, its wild places, its ancient strength—to watch it shatter over old grudges and stolen silver. I would rather swallow my pride, walk back into that viper’s nest, and face the ghosts I left behind than let war tear everything apart.

But if Alexander—or anyone in that pack—dares to mistreat me again…

Veyra stirred, silver power coiling beneath my skin.

…they will see a side of me they never expected.

A side they won’t survive.