Emory's POV.The mood grows increasingly awkward as we all stand around outside, waiting for Velara and Vladimir to arrive. Malakar and Hope thought it best for everyone to be present before I begin explaining what I know about Hope’s father and the prophecy. I agree with them — I just wish everyone would stop looking at me in a dozen different ways.Hope stares at me like I — and I alone — hold the answers to everything she’s ever questioned about her life. There’s so much expectation etched into her face, it almost breaks my heart. I really feel for her. She might not believe it after everything that’s happened, but I care about her — deeply. She’s my friend. My best friend. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt her, to betray her trust. But I had no real choice — not when the truth meant risking the safety of my pack… of our entire species. I can only hope she’ll understand that someday — that she’ll be able to forgive me, maybe even trust me again.Malakar keeps his gaze mostly
Hope's POV.Everything I thought I knew was a lie.My father… the man I idolized, trusted, loved beyond words — he was a hunter. A killer. A man who trained to destroy the very people I now call family.And I was supposed to be one too.The thought still feels foreign, unnatural. Like someone’s stitched it into the fabric of my life and tried to convince me it was always there. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. Not in the life I remember — the bedtime stories, the gentle laugh, the way he used to lift me onto his shoulders and call me his "brave little lioness." That man... he wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t a zealot. He wasn’t this cold, brutal person the letters make him out to be.Was he?I wrap my arms around myself as I lie in bed, the covers drawn up to my chin, listening to Malakar as he dresses in the bathroom. Questions haunt me like shadows at my heels — constant, clawing.What made him change? What made him see past the black-and-white his training must have drilled into him
Lucian's POV.I volunteered for a patrol shift this morning.The forest is quiet — too quiet. The kind of silence that presses against your skin like a warning. A thick blanket of grey mist curls low around my boots, veiling the ground in soft obscurity. Moisture clings to everything — the skeletal branches above, the fallen leaves crunching beneath my steps, even the fur of the smaller animals darting through the undergrowth in search of breakfast.I needed the space. Needed time away from everyone. Time to think... to untangle the whirlwind in my head.The prophecy.Those damn words.All this time, I’ve been drowning in anger — rage at Velara. My mother. I resented her for abandoning me, hated her for walking away from me and my father like we were nothing. I could never make peace with it — how she just left.But now...Now it turns out she may never have had a choice. Fate had its own plans for her. Maybe no matter what she did, she would’ve ended up with Vladimir. She would’ve ha
Malachai's POV."So you're saying that Hope doesn't know a thing about any of this. Not about her father - her legacy, what she is and where she comes from? Not about the prophecy? None of it."Izak and I sit close around the fire, warding off some of the early-morning chill as we wait for the sun to make its ascension over the horizon. The forest is still, peaceful - not yet fully awake. So is the rest of camp. Here and there hunters can be seen emerging from their tents, lighting a fire, fixing a cup of coffee, but for the most part - Izak and I are alone.He shakes his head slowly, looking at me with an intense expression on his face. "No, we don't think that she does. As far as we know, she's still very much in the dark about who she really is."I take a moment to consider his answer. "Of course. That was a foolish question. I should know better. If Hope knew - if she had the slightest inkling about her past, or her destiny - she would never lie with those beasts. She would do wha
Malakar's POV.The room has gone quiet - not a single sound can be heard save from the sound of Velara's staggered breathing. The joyous atmosphere from just moments ago completely dissipated.Our mother sits in the far corner, wringing her hands in her lap - eyes unfocused and filled to the brim with unshed tears.Lucian watches her just as he watches Hope and me. His eyes dart wildly from one to the other. His shoulders are tense, his back rigid - jaw tight, unyielding. A strange fire burns behind his wild eyes.Morgana sits on the sofa, stunned. She holds onto Talon's hand as if her life depended on it. Talon keeps his gaze firmly locked on the carpet in front of him, but I can see the wheels spinning - he looks just as intrigued as he does upset by the epic bombshell that Hope dropped on all of us tonight.None of us could have guessed that this night would end like this.I shift my gaze to my mate - to Hope, still standing next to me. She watches all of them carefully, searching
Hope's POV.I smile when I’m supposed to. I laugh when everyone else does. I even manage to win a round of charades when Morgana insists we play as couples. But inside, I feel like I’m slowly coming undone.The room is buzzing with warmth and easy conversation, but I can’t seem to reach it. I sit next to Malakar, his hand occasionally brushing against mine beneath the table — grounding me — but even that doesn’t pull me out of the fog completely. I want to be here. I want to be part of this — this messy, healing, beautiful chaos they’re building back together. Lucian is smiling more than I’ve ever seen him smile. Malakar is laughing — actually laughing. Velara is glowing with something close to peace. And Morgana? She’s in her element, ruling over this strange, blended pack-family with that quiet fierceness only she possesses.But I feel like a ghost sitting among the living. I can’t stop thinking about the letter. The photos. The journal. I’m the daughter of a hunter. No — not just a