C-5

“Are you mad at me, Elowen?” Caelan Thorncroft asks, his voice thick with raw, gravelly exhaustion as his bleary gray eyes fixate on my face.

I shake my head slowly, keeping my expression entirely blank as I set the clay basin on the bedside table. “Not at all, High Alpha. Drink your cold spring water and rest your head.”

I cannot bring myself to treat him like an absolute stranger, even if every spark of romantic warmth in my blood died years ago. We were lovers once, bound by a bond that nearly destroyed us both before I fled his den.

I step out of the quiet bedchamber, closing the heavy oak door behind me, and move down the stone hall to sleep in the guest quarters.

When the gentle morning sun gains ascendancy over the horizon, soft golden rays flood the Moonfang Province, cutting through the dense, freezing mist that engulfs our mountain valley.

If a human climbs the steep ridge at dawn, they can catch a breathtaking view of the Frostfang Refuge straight out of a dreamland, all sharp ice peaks and endless evergreen pine.

I wake early because Briar must get ready for her lessons at the pack grounds. Standing before the cracked mirror in the washroom, I observe the reflection of my bare face. My full, plush cheeks carry a healthy flush, my curves filling out my soft linen tunic without apology. Since when did the bitter lines of grief disappear from my eyes?

Maybe it was when I left the Royal Alpha Quarter behind, turning my back on high-born wolves to build a quiet life in this frontier town. This land has become my healing place.

When I step out into the courtyard, Caelan is already awake. He stands beneath the ancient almond tree, his massive, heavily scarred frame shrouded in a dark fur cloak as he stares into the fog, lost in deep thought.

I catch my breath, peeking at him from the doorway, but I do not disrupt his silence.

He turns with unnatural wolf speed, his sharp senses catching my scent immediately. “You are awake, Elowen.”

I nod smoothly, wiping my damp hands on my apron. “What would you like to eat before you depart?”

“Anything,” he rasps, his dark eyes tracking the shift of my weight.

I do not offer a long reply. As the years go by, my heart feels more like a bleak pool of dead water where no stray breeze can raise a single ripple.

Briar trots out into the sunlight, her small feet thudding against the stone porch. She stops dead when she sees the towering High Alpha standing near the trees. “Lord Thorncroft, why are you at my mommy’s house so early?”

Children always speak the absolute truth without fear.

Caelan’s harsh lips curl into a faint, bitter smile. “Because I do not have a home worth returning to, little one.”

His quiet, unintended reply carries a heavy weight, as if he expects me to read between the lines of his regret. I lower my gaze, fixing the tie of my cloak, refusing to take the bait.

Briar, however, is wonderfully chatty. She skips over to the massive warrior, asking him endless, bizarre questions about his war steeds, his silver armor, and the strange blue rune lanterns on his carriage.

Caelan answers every single query with astounding patience, dropping to one knee in the dirt so he can look into her dark eyes.

After a long moment, he rises and turns his attention back to me. “The regional disputes with the Ashbourne Pack at the Royal Lodge Quarter are settled. I must return to the Silvermoon Capital for a few days to handle tribunal business.”

I nod politely, keeping my distance. “Safe travels.”

He stares at me deeply, his stormy eyes burning with unspoken longing. “Take care of yourself, Elowen.”

Osric Fenwick drives the heavy timber carriage up to the gate. When Caelan climbs inside, he says nothing else, offering only a final, lingering look at my face before the iron wheels roll away.

I send him off with a completely calm heart. Just like that, he came into my life again and vanished back into his world.

The arrival of my uncle, Dorian Wolfhart, was like a breath of fresh air for our province. High Magistrate Rowan Ashbourne has officially been stripped of his title and dragged before the elders, leaving the local corrupt wolves scrambling for cover.

Everyone at the lodging sanctuary now knows about my strained history with Isolde Ashbourne and her disgraced family line.

While I am inside the archive cubicle filing harvest tallies, my communication rune lights up with a quick message from Torin Wolfsbane. He states that he has returned to his border outpost in the Silver Tide Haven and will travel down to visit Briar and me in the coming days.

I send a brief, polite confirmation.

As I prepare to step out of the record chamber, the sound of hushed, spiteful voices carries over the wooden partition.

“Have you heard the news?” a female wolf whispers loudly. “Isolde’s father is completely ruined. The Grand Alpha Tribunal didn't just strip his magistrate title; they threw him in the deep dungeons. Rumor says the pack enforcers seized a fortune in stolen gold and dark magic artifacts from his estate!”

“I am glad,” another voice sneers. “He has been taking bribes from rogue packs for years. He finally received the brutal punishment he deserves. Remember how arrogant Isolde used to act around the healing halls? Look at her now! She has nowhere to hide.”

“I heard this whole collapse has something to do with that human, Elowen Whitlock,” a third voice chimed in. “How did a bloodless woman in her late twenties pull down a magistrate?”

“She must be warming the bed of some high-ranking Alpha!”

“I doubt that. Word is she is the true blood niece of Lord Dorian Wolfhart himself. That is why she has so much sway…”

I push open the heavy door, stepping out into the hallway. The three female pack workers freeze instantly, their faces turning pale as the gossip dies in their throats.

Caught in their own venomous trap, they look at my full frame and blurt out the most awkward, trembling greeting possible. “Oh! Good morning, Lady Whitlock.”

I give them a simple nod, wash my ink-stained hands in the basins, and sweep past them without wasting a single word.

When I was younger, cruel whispers and pack gossip used to cut through me like a silver blade. In hindsight, survival boils down to a person’s inner strength. Petty rumors cannot harm someone who knows their own worth, especially when those words come from insignificant people clinging to power structures that are already crumbling.

When I return to my main desk, Dorian calls via rune-scroll to inform me that he is departing for the Silvermoon Capital. Law and order in the Moonfang Province have finally stabilized under his temporary oversight, and a new county leader will arrive shortly.

Since he is my kin, I walk down to the lower gates to bid him farewell. Because our mountain district lacks a Skyclaw International Gateway, his convoy must make the long carriage trek to the central city.

We exchange warm pleasantries before his heavily armored escort rides out into the pine forest.

Everything happened so fast, yet now my life seems to slide back into quiet normalcy. I feel a surreal lightness, as if the chaos of the High Alpha’s sudden reappearance was nothing more than a passing storm.

It is the week of the midsummer pack festival.

Even though our corner of the Moonfang Province is secluded, the town is vibrant, bursting with colorful banners, flower garlands, and roasted meat stalls. Since I have taken a short leave from the sanctuary, Lucan Blackmoor suggests taking the children up to an ancient stone temple situated on the outer crags of the mountain. It features a wonderful hiking path where Briar can run freely and enjoy the summer wilderness.

The Lotus Temple sits high on a crag overlooking the entire valley. Because most of the pack villagers are gathered in the town square for the booze and dancing, only a few quiet worshippers walk the sacred stone steps.

It is wonderful to start our trek in the crisp morning air. Briar is bursting with energy, skipping ahead along the dirt trail without needing any help. Lucan and I laugh and talk as we navigate the winding path, taking in the rich scents of pine, blooming mountain flora, and fresh earth.

When we reach the summit, the massive stone statue of the ancient wolf deity looms over the courtyard, carved directly into the cliffside. Lucan helps Briar light the fragrant incense sticks she bought at the lower counter, watching as her plush, small frame bows with deep, innocent reverence.

“Look at how solemn she is,” Lucan whispers softly, leaning toward me with a quiet sigh. “She does not act like a wild child at all. She is far too mature for four years old.”

I press my lips into a tight, straight line, staring blankly at the massive stone eyes of the deity.

Nearly thirty years of life have passed me by as a human living among wolves. I have lived through the harsh cycles of rejection, survival, physical pain, and grief. I have lost my home, my youthful illusions, and the people I once loved more than life itself.

Lucan steps closer, his shoulder brushing against my cloak. “Elowen, what will you do if High Alpha Thorncroft comes back from the capital with official orders?”

I do not blink. “Caelan Thorncroft holds power over the Thorncroft Alpha Dominion, Lucan. He does not own my soul, nor does he own my child.”

Before Lucan can reply, a heavy shadow falls over the temple courtyard. The air instantly thickens, turning suffocatingly dense with the wild, electrifying scent of crushed pine, ozone, and dark silver blood.

My heart leaps into my throat as the small crowd of worshippers suddenly drops to their knees in absolute silence.

Standing near the sacred stone archway, his silver-studded armor gleaming under the bright midsummer sun, is Caelan Thorncroft. He did not go to the capital. He is surrounded by six elite guards from the Guardian Pack Command, his stormy gray eyes locked onto me with a possessive, terrifying intensity that makes my breath catch in my chest.

He steps forward, his massive leather boots crunching against the sacred gravel, ignoring every kneeling wolf in his path until he stops directly in front of me.

“You thought I left, Elowen,” Caelan rumbles, his deep voice carrying a dark, dangerous heat that vibrates straight through my boots.

I pull Briar behind my skirts, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs. “You said you were returning to the Silvermoon Capital, High Alpha.”

Caelan reaches into his heavy tunic, pulling out a thick parchment sealed with the crimson wax of the Grand Alpha Tribunal. He holds it out between us, his scarred fingers tight around the parchment.

“I sent the convoy ahead,” Caelan whispers, leaning down until his lips are inches from my ear, his hot breath branding my skin with raw, erotic dominance. “I stayed behind because the elders signed the mandate, Elowen. You are no longer just a human clerk in this province.”

My hands shake as I stare at the bold, blood-red ink at the top of the parchment: OFFICIAL MANDATE OF MATING RECOGNITION & CUSTODIAL TRANSFER.

“Read the last line,” Caelan commands softly, his hand dropping to rest heavy and possessive over the curve of my hip, his thumb digging into my flesh through my tunic.

My eyes skim the final paragraph, my blood running dead cold: By decree of the High Council, the human child known as Briar Ashwyn is hereby recognized as the trueborn heir to the Thorncroft Alpha Dominion, and her mother, Elowen Whitlock, is ordered to enter the High Alpha’s den immediately.

I lift my head, my eyes burning with fierce, defiant rage as I glare into his harsh, beautiful face. “I will die before I step foot back into your den, Caelan.”

Caelan’s jaw clenches, his gray eyes flashing with a sudden, lethal blaze of wolf fire as he steps closer, pressing his massive, muscular body flush against mine until I can feel every hard, hot plane of his chest.

“Then we will burn this whole mountain to the ground together, my sweet human,” he snarls softly against my lips, grabbing my wrist and pulling me tight against his heart. “Because you are coming home with me today.”