Chapter 3 — Natille’s POV

We turned the last corner. Elder’s door stood open a hand’s width. A low light spilled onto the floor. I stopped. My throat went tight.

“I will go in first,” Florian said.

“No,” I said. I took the last steps alone and pushed the door wider. The room was warm and soft. Grandmother sat in her chair with a blanket over her knees. Her hair was white and braided. Her eyes were sharp. They landed on me and filled at once.

“Natille,” she said. Her voice was thin but clear. “Come here, child.”

My heart knocked hard again. I crossed the room and went to my knees at her side. Her hand found my cheek. Her fingers were cool and light. I held her wrist so I would not shake.

“I am here,” I said. “I am here, Grandma.”

She searched my face like she was counting the years. Her mouth trembled. “Stand up,” she said. “Let me see you proper. Then tell me if I should slap your mother or save that for later.”

A broken laugh slipped out of me. Tears rose and I blinked them back. Florian stayed near the door. Luna Nicole stood in the corner with her hands tight. Navy hovered behind her like a shadow. Ronan leaned on the frame with his arms crossed.

Grandmother looked at them all and then back at me. “We will eat after this,” she said. “And then we will decide rules. But first I will say one thing so you hear it. You are mine. This house is your house.”

I breathed in too fast. It hurt and helped. I took her hand and pressed it to my lips. For the first time since the gate, warmth reached a place in me that the fire had not touched.

Luna Nicole stepped forward. “Mother, she needs rest. We can talk later.”

Grandmother did not look at her. “We will talk now,” she said. “But the girl will choose what to answer.”

Florian watched me. I stood. My legs were steady. I looked at Luna Nicole. I looked at Navy. I looked at the man who had driven me here and kept his hands to himself.

“I will speak,” I said. “But not with her in the room.”

“You call this safety?” I asked, my voice sharp as glass.

The room was too polished, too foreign. The guest chamber they locked me in felt less like comfort and more like a cage wrapped in velvet. Furniture gleamed. A chandelier scattered its glow over expensive fabrics. Yet the air pressed heavy, cold.

I sat at the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the blanket. My chest ached with the memory of my old room. Silver and white walls. Shelves lined with books about wolf history. Moonlight spilling across moonflowers that only bloomed once a month, glowing faint against the dark. That had been mine. My sanctuary.

Now it was hers. Navy’s.

Here, the window opened to dying roses, brittle and gray. A garden of loss staring back at me.

A knock cut through the silence. My shoulders tensed.

“Come in,” I said, tone clipped.

The door opened and a warrior stepped inside. Silver hair, cropped short. Gray eyes that measured everything. Her black uniform carried the Wilson insignia, perfect and sharp.

“You’re Nena, correct?” I asked though I already knew.

She nodded once. “I’ve been assigned to assist you, Miss Natille.”

Assist. No, it was surveillance. Her eyes flicked over me like a ledger, noting the way my hands trembled, the way my shoulders stiffened. Ronan’s order. It had to be.

“That’s kind of you,” I said flatly. “But I don’t need help.”

“My orders are to remain with you.” Her voice carried no emotion, but I heard the weight of duty under it.

A bitter spark twisted in my chest. “So you’ll report everything back to my dear brother?”

Something shifted in her eyes, brief and unreadable. “I’m here to ensure your safety.”

I laughed, quiet and sharp. Safety. No one cared about that when chains burned my skin, when poison silenced my wolf. My wolf stirred weakly, whimpering under my skin. She was too frail to fight.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Do your job. Don’t expect gratitude.”

Her lips tightened, the closest thing to a reaction. “The Elder is waiting to meet you.”

Grandmother. A pang cut through me before footsteps echoed outside. Heavy. Familiar.

Ronan.

He entered like a storm, eyes blazing. His gaze locked on me, then dropped to the torn uniform I still wore.

“You’re going to see Grandmother like this?” His words snapped like teeth.

“This is what I have,” I answered.

“You’re doing this on purpose.” He stepped closer, voice low and charged. His wolf pushed against the air, suffocating.

I lifted my chin though my knees shook. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act stupid. It’s a game. You want sympathy. You want to look pitiful.”

The words carved deep. Him accusing me of manipulation—after everything?

“Careful,” I warned. My voice was low, tight.

He didn’t stop. His fury pressed down, crushing. “Do you think this act erases what Navy suffered? That it makes you righteous?”

“Enough,” Nena cut in, firm, standing between us.

But my wolf bent anyway, shrinking under his dominance. My legs gave out. I hit the floor hard. Pain shot through me, rattling my breath. I tried to rise, arms trembling, but failed.

“Ronan!” Nicole’s voice cracked like a whip. She shoved past him, dropping to her knees beside me. “What are you doing?”

Her hands reached for me. I flinched back.

“Why haven’t you changed?” she asked softly, her eyes frantic.

I lifted my sleeves instead.

Gasps filled the room.

Silver scars lined my arms, jagged and raw. Poison still shimmered faintly in them, dulling the healing that should have erased them years ago.

Nicole’s voice shook. “No wonder you flinch…” Tears blurred her eyes.

Navy’s gasp followed, loud and perfect. “Why would they do this to you?” Her tone trembled in all the right ways.

I kept my eyes off her.

“Why?” she asked again, louder, her mask flawless.

“Because I broke the Sacred Moon Crystal,” I said bitterly.

Silence.

“Or so the Alpha King’s daughter claimed.” I cut my gaze at Navy.

Her head bowed, hand pressed to her lips. Shoulders curled in practiced grief. Yet her eyes flashed for a moment, satisfied, before she lowered them.

I wanted to laugh. I didn’t know who I despised more—her for faking or myself for failing to expose her.