3. SIENNA

5 Years Later

I wake up to the sound of glass shattering.

The noise cuts through sleep like a blade, sharp and unmistakable, followed immediately by raised voices. My heart lurches as I push myself out of bed, feet barely touching the floor as I rush toward the kitchen. Fear comes first, instinctive and consuming. Glass is never just glass when children are involved.

“What happened?” I demand as I step into the doorway.

The sight in front of me makes my breath hitch. A broken plate lies in pieces near the counter. A glass tumbler has met the same fate. Selena and Kane stand on opposite sides of the mess, both frozen, both guilty, both already bracing for what they think is coming.

Kane’s lower lip trembles. Selena’s chin lifts stubbornly, though her eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Why were you touching the glass?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. Fear bleeds into frustration before I can stop it. “You know better than that.”

“We were careful,” Selena says quickly, pointing at her brother. “But he moved.”

“She pushed me,” Kane shoots back. “I told you not to put it there.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale slowly. My heart is still racing, images of blood and stitches flashing through my mind. I crouch down, scanning them both for injuries. No cuts. No blood. Just shaken fear and wide eyes.

“Explain,” I say more gently.

They exchange a glance. Kane speaks first. “We wanted to make you breakfast.”

Selena nods eagerly. “It’s your birthday.”

The words land heavier than I expect. I hadn’t planned to think about my birthday today. I certainly hadn’t planned to celebrate it.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Selena continues, her voice wobbling now. “But he dropped the plate.”

Kane bristles. “You put too many things on the counter.”

I sigh, the tension draining out of me all at once. I pull them both into my arms before either of them can say anything else. They melt into me instantly, small bodies warm and familiar, arms wrapping around my waist with practiced ease.

“We’re sorry,” Kane mumbles.

“Really sorry,” Selena adds.

“I know,” I say, pressing my cheek against Selena’s hair. “I was just scared. Glass can hurt you.”

They nod solemnly, understanding that much at least.

“Go sit on the couch,” I tell them. “I’ll clean this up.”

They obey without protest, clinging to each other as they go. I clean the mess carefully, tossing broken pieces away, wiping the counter clean. My hands move automatically, my mind already shifting gears into the day ahead.

Breakfast is simpler this time. Toast, eggs, fruit. They chatter while they eat, already past the incident, already plotting the next small adventure. I watch them quietly as I sip my tea.

Selena sits upright, observant, eyes missing nothing. She notices details most people overlook, remembers conversations word for word. Kane swings his legs beneath the chair, restless even while eating, energy coiled tightly under his skin. He asks questions endlessly. Why this. Why that. What happens if.

Sometimes, when I look at them too closely, something in my chest tightens.

Selena has my hair but not my eyes. Kane has neither. His gaze is darker, more intense than a child his age should have. Both of them carry a presence that draws attention without effort. They always have.

I push the thought away.

Austin arrives shortly after breakfast, letting himself in like he always does. He’s been my anchor here from the beginning. Friend. Sitter. Someone who knows when to ask questions and when not to.

“Happy birthday,” he says with a grin, holding up a small paper bag.

“Don’t,” I warn, though my lips twitch despite myself.

Selena cheers. “It’s Mama’s birthday!”

“I know,” Austin says seriously. “Very important day.”

Kane narrows his eyes. “Are you bringing cake?”

“Later,” Austin replies. “If you behave.”

They cheer like he’s promised them the moon. I gather my things and head toward the door, pausing only to crouch in front of them. “Be good,” I say. “Listen to Austin.”

“We will,” Selena promises.

Kane nods vigorously. “We are always good.” I roll my eyes and smile despite myself.

The council house is already busy when I arrive. Documents are stacked neatly on the long table. Familiar faces greet me with nods and quiet respect. I take my seat, slip easily into the role I’ve earned here. Calm. Collected. Necessary.

The meeting progresses smoothly until a new issue is raised.

A neighboring pack is requesting Vineclaw.

The name alone makes my stomach tighten. Vineclaw is rare. Difficult to cultivate. Powerful when used correctly. Dangerous when misused. We don’t hand it out lightly.

“They claim they need it for defensive purposes,” one council member says. “Their borders have been challenged.”

“And their Alpha is here to support the request,” another adds. “They’ve come in person.”

My heart stutters. I tell myself it means nothing. Packs travel. Alphas negotiate. There is no reason for my pulse to spike like this.

I lift my gaze.

And then I see him.

The world narrows to a single point. Cassius stands near the entrance, taller than I remember, broader somehow, authority etched into every line of him. His presence fills the room without effort. His eyes scan the council until they land on me.

Recognition hits us both at the same time.

The bond, long muted, flares sharply. My breath catches. His eyes darken, widening just a fraction before his control snaps back into place.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. I study him clinically, forcing myself to ignore the pull in my chest. The way his posture mirrors Kane’s when he’s concentrating. The way his gaze sharpens when assessing a room, just like Selena’s does when she thinks no one is watching.

It’s unsettling. Dangerous.

I push the comparisons down and return to the discussion, my tone professional, detached. I ask questions. I weigh risks. I listen. All the while, I feel his attention on me, unwavering, heavy.

He looks at me like he’s trying to memorize something. Like he’s afraid I might vanish again.

I do not give him anything to hold on to.

The meeting continues, but something has shifted. I can feel it in my bones. This was never going to be a simple request. And Cassius’s presence here is not coincidence.

As the council adjourns temporarily, I gather my papers and stand. When I look up again, his eyes are still on me.

And for the first time since I left, I wonder how long it will take before he notices what I have spent four years protecting.

And whether, when he does, it will be too late.