Chapter 1

"Finn. What did you call me?"

Finn was sprawled on the carpet, sorting cards. He slid the one with Damon's face into the "Pack Members" slot.

"Alpha Ashford."

Damon's jaw tightened.

"Look at me."

Finn glanced up. Those eyes that used to light up whenever they found his father now only held evasion.

"Say it again."

"Alpha Ashford."

Damon turned to me.

"Elara. Did you tell him to say that? "

"No."

"You're lying. A six-year-old wouldn't treat his father like this unless someone taught him."

"So you do remember you're his father," I said.

The room went quiet.

Damon's gaze landed on the desk. A wooden box held a single unpolished pack crest.

The Moon Rite—the ceremony where a pup turns six and receives his pack identity, placed by both parents.

Finn practiced for three months. He memorized the creed, learned the bow, and asked me a dozen times,"Will Daddy be proud of me?"

Before the ceremony, he waited by the hall entrance. Every time footsteps echoed, he'd rise on his toes and peer toward the door.

The priest paused twice, asking if we should begin. But Finn clutched his crest and begged for five more minutes.

By the time the last streetlamp went dark, it wasn't Damon who showed up. It was his Beta, Cole.

Cole delivered the message: "Alpha's caught up. You can start without him."

Finn stood under the moonlight, the hope bleeding out of his face, drop by drop.

Every other pup was lifted onto the altar by their father. Only Finn walked the entire corridor alone, holding my hand.

That night, he sat up with the unplaced crest cradled in his arms.

The next day, he changed what he called Damon.

Damon picked up the box.

"That day was an accident. Nico had a breakdown. Serena couldn't handle him alone. I couldn't just stand by."

"So Finn was fair game?"

"That's not what I said."

"You didn't have to. Every time there's a choice, you answer loud and clear."

Damon crouched beside Finn.

"Come here. I'll put it on for you now."

He opened the box.

Finn inched backward.

"The rite is over."

"We can do it again."

"The moon from that night won't rise twice just for me."

Damon's hand froze.

A six-year-old doesn't understand betrayal. But he knows that a hug past its time doesn't warm anymore.

Damon opened his mouth. His phone buzzed.

A voice message from Cole.

"Alpha, Serena's at the old house with Nico. The pup's been crying non-stop."

Damon stood.

"I'll go check."

Finn fiddled with his cards. No reaction.

Damon reached the door, then stopped. Turned back.

"Finn. I'll be back soon."

This time, Finn finally spoke:

"You don't need to report to me."

He lowered his head properly—a pup's courtesy to his Alpha. Not a son's goodbye to his father.

Damon's face went pale.

"Don't talk to me like that."

"Then how should I talk?"

Finn thought for a moment.

"Goodbye, Alpha."

I turned my face away, nails digging deep into my palm.

Damon left. In the end, he always did.

The door clicked shut. Finn shoved that card to the very bottom of the box.

"Mom, is he coming back tonight?"

"I don't know."

"Can I sleep first?"

"Of course."

He used to wait on the couch. Now he didn't even leave a light on for Damon.

I tucked Finn in and opened the email from the North Elder.

One line:

[Frost will always welcome you and your pup.]

The Mate Bond in my chest still ached.

But for the first time, I didn't follow that pull toward Damon.

I turned off the light and made my decision in the dark.

He could keep running to Serena.

I was taking Finn and leaving.

This time, no one was going to make me stay.