LOGINLucas’s POVThe first sign that something was wrong wasn’t the whispers.It was the silence.The fortress had grown too still these past few days, the kind of silence that came when wolves held their breath, waiting for the ground to tremble. Even the guards moved softer, their boots careful against the stone, their laughter muted as if they were afraid of waking something sleeping.I could feel it too.A shift.Small at first, like the prickle of fur rising along a wolf’s neck before a storm.When Rose laughed in the mornings, the sound carried through the courtyard like sunlight. But now, that same laughter came softer — hesitant, a little too measured, as if she was thinking before every word. I noticed it most after her walks with Mara.She had insisted on those walks. “They need me to believe in them,” she’d said. “They need to see that forgiveness is real.”Forgiveness was a noble thing.But noble things could still bleed you dry.I stood on the northern balcony that overlooked
Rose’s POVThe garden had always been my favorite place in the fortress.It was the only part of this stone kingdom that still felt alive — untamed. The vines along the courtyard walls had grown thick despite the caretakers’ efforts, and the scent of damp soil after dawn always reminded me of something old and forgiving.This morning, the sky was pale blue and full of promise. The roses had begun to bloom early this year, white and pink and red, crowding the archway like an apology for every winter before it.Mara stood beside me, silent for a long while.Her gaze moved over the flowers, her expression distant but soft. “You planted all this?” she asked finally.“Lucas did,” I said with a small smile. “But he says the moon goddess sent the first seed the day peace was declared.”She smiled faintly. “It suits you. I remember when you couldn’t even keep a single potted herb alive.”I laughed, the sound light and startled. “You remember that?”“Of course.” She looked at me then, and for
Mara’s POVThe morning light at the fortress was a gentler thing than I remembered from home. It did not sting; it caressed. It filled the corridors with pale gold and made even the cracks in the stone seem deliberate, elegant.I hated it.This place had been built for wolves who had never truly suffered — too clean, too still. Even the servants smiled with something close to joy, as if they didn’t remember what hunger felt like. The peace here was unnatural, and it made my skin crawl.Lila was still asleep when I rose. I dressed in the simple linen gown Rose had sent for us — soft fabric, plain but fine enough that I wanted to shred it just for existing. When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I practiced the look I would wear for the day: humble, grateful, touched by sorrow but holding on to fragile hope.It was a good mask.The knock came precisely as expected.One of the fortress maids entered with breakfast, her arms balancing a tray of fruit, warm bread, and steaming tea. “Th
Lucas’s POVOnly when I was sure the sisters were out of earshot did I finally turn to Jake and Clara. Both waited without speaking, the former because silence was part of his nature, the latter because her fury was still finding words sharp enough to carry it.“She hugged them,” Clara said at last, voice taut. “Right there in front of everyone. I could smell it—their fear, yes, but there was something else. Something that didn’t belong.”Jake folded his arms. “Confidence.”She shot him a look. “You saw it too.”He nodded. “They’ve practiced. The tremors, the tears. I’ve seen rogues lie for bread before—but never that cleanly.”I exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The hall still smelled of dust and rain from their arrival, and beneath it, the faint sweetness of honey that Rose had insisted the kitchens prepare. My mate’s mercy would one day save us all—or damn us if I wasn’t careful.“She believes them,” I said quietly.Jake’s jaw ticked. “She wants to. That’s different.”
Mara’s POVThe cart jolted over another stone, and Lila’s hand tightened around mine. Her skin was cold, even under the blanket we’d wrapped ourselves in for the act. The wind smelled of pine and hearth smoke — the scent of home. My stomach twisted at the thought. Home. The word itself had turned poisonous.When the walls of Lucas’s fortress rose ahead, tall and clean against the morning light, I almost smiled. Almost. Every brick, every flag was proof that the story had worked.That she’d taken the bait.Rose.Our dear, cursed sister.“She’s waiting,” Lila murmured, voice soft but unsteady. “She’ll be standing there.”I didn’t need to look at her to know she was trembling, not from fear — but excitement. “Good,” I whispered back. “Let her believe every word of our letter.”The guards at the gate stepped aside as our cart slowed. The tall one—Jake, the Gamma—rode beside us. His face was carved from suspicion, jaw locked tight, eyes sweeping every movement we made. He’d barely said a w
Mara’s POV The cottage looked like grief. That much, at least, was true.The thatch slumped in two places where the winter had weighed too hard and too long. The hearth smoked because we had narrowed the flue with a stone months ago to make the air sting the eyes. We had learned where to pile ash so it would look as though the fire had been starved, not managed. We had learned that one bowl left with a crust of porridge told a cleaner lie than three scrubbed and stacked. We wore dresses we had torn at the hem with careful hands and left the threads so they would catch on the stool and worry themselves worse.When the wind shifted, we winced at the smell like honest women who had gotten used to clean water and must now drink from the ditch.As evening softened the edges of the room, Lila stood in the middle of the floor and let her hair fall loose. She bent her head as if in prayer and looked up at me through it, a pale curtain.“Do I look empty?” she asked.“You look tired,” I said.







