They keep coming back

Margaux pov

I slipped through the narrow gap in the old stone wall ; the secret passage Margot and I used to sneak out through when we were kids – and ran. I didn't stop until the trees of the deeper forest swallowed me whole.

Taking a shuddering breath, I turned back to look at the lights of the Eastern Pack one last time. Tears blurred my vision, hot and fast, and I aggressively wiped them away with the sleeve of my oversized hoodie. Who would have thought twenty-four hours was all it took to dismantle an entire life? No "happy birthday" wishes. No cake. Just a brutal rejection.

I stared down at my scuffed sneakers, the memories of the last few hours flashing behind my eyelids like a bad movie.

"This just brought out their true colors," I whispered to the empty woods.

I shoved my hands deep into my hoodie pockets, ignoring the empty, aching hollow in my stomach. I hadn't eaten since yesterday.

"The human world isn't far from here," I murmured, adjusting the strap of my heavy duffel bag. "I won't go too deep. Just in case they realize what they did. Just in case they regret it. I'll stay close."

I turned my back on my home and ran into the shadows. My entire life was down to my savings of one thousand dollars in crumpled bills and a few pieces of gold jewelry I'd managed to grab. It wasn't much, but it would have to keep me alive. I had no idea what the human city looked like, but I'd rather face the unknown alone than stay there and slowly suffocate.

Three years went by.

No Margot. No Lucien. No Mr. Voss, and no Mom.

But during those three years, something shifted. A quiet, steady warmth had finally bloomed deep within my chest, the first real proof that my wolf was actually in there, sleeping. I'd spent those three years bouncing from one sketchy under-the-table job to another before Mrs. Vera Calloway and Mr. Edmund Calloway finally hired me as their live-in caregiver.

In all that time, I hadn't crossed paths with a single werewolf. I was a ghost to my old pack, and that brought me a peace I hadn't felt in my entire life.

"Mara, dear, do you know my daughter Isabella is going to be home in just a few hours?" Mr. Edmund asked, lifting his feet up so I could run the duster under his favorite armchair.

"Isabella?" I looked up, pausing as I wiped down the wooden chess pieces on the side table. "I thought she swore she was never coming back here."

"Well, I was just as surprised as you are, sweetheart," the old man chuckled, resting his leather shoes back on the hardwood floor.

"Oh, don't listen to him, Mara. She's only coming home to get a head start on her wedding preparations," Mrs. Vera corrected, stepping into the room with a silver tray in her hands.

"Ma'am, wait, I haven't wiped down that spot yet," I warned, pointing at the table.

Vera waved her hand dismissively, sitting down anyway. "I'm already covered in flour from the kitchen, don't worry about it." She set the tray down, casually pushing her husband's chessboard out of the way.

"Honey!" Edmund gasped, his eyes going wide as he grabbed the edge of the board. He was absolutely obsessed with his chess setup.

"What? If I didn't do that, you wouldn't pay any attention to me," Vera teased, giving him a playful wink before turning to me. "Mara, here, have a taste and tell me how they turned out."

She held out a small piece of a fresh pancake.

"No wonder the whole hallway smelled like heaven," I laughed, leaning forward as she popped the piece into my mouth. I chewed, the warm, sweet flavor hitting my tongue. "Mmm." My head rolled back in pure bliss. "This is literally so good."

"Are you sure you aren't just exaggerating to make her feel good?" Mr. Edmund teased, setting his book down on the floor. "Because if I taste it and it's terrible, I'm going to make you stay in here and play chess with me for the next twenty-four hours."

"It really is amazing," I insisted, giving him a nudge.

Edmund turned his gaze to his wife, holding out a hand. "Where is mine?"

Vera looked right past him, a small smirk on her lips. "Go bake your own."

"You gave a piece to Mara, but not to me? Your own beloved husband?" He let his jaw drop in mock offense.

"That's because Mara is basically my daughter," Vera said smoothly, though she was already arranging a neat stack of pancakes on a ceramic plate for him.

"Since when did you guys add a new member to the family tree without telling me?" a loud, bright voice echoed from the hallway.

We all turned toward the doorway in unison.

"Isabella!" Mr. Edmund's voice boomed with excitement.

"Dad!" Isabella dropped her designer bags and rushed over, wrapping her arms tightly around her father's neck.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be here until dawn, sweetie," Mrs. Vera said, her eyes lighting up as she stood up.

"Well, I had to catch an earlier flight when I heard you guys were trying to replace me," Isabella teased, pulling back to plant a quick kiss on her mother's forehead.

"Welcome home, Miss Isabella," I said quietly, stepping back.

My eyes briefly scanned her. She looked effortlessly put together gold flat shoes, a black-and-white flannel dress, and her blonde hair styled in perfect, bouncy waves. Her gaze shifted to me, and her face instantly lit up.

"Hey, Mara! Thank goodness you're here," she said, stepping away from her parents and walking straight toward me.

Before I could even react, she grabbed my forearms, her grip tight and enthusiastic. I stared down at her hands, a little startled. We hadn't been this close during her brief visits in the past, but she was looking at me like we were old friends.

"If she's the one you guys are adding to the family tree, I totally approve," Isabella declared, looking back at her parents. She turned back to me with wide, pleading eyes. "Can you please help me unpack, go through the guest list, and get the guest house ready? The wedding is literally in forty-eight hours."

"Wait, why the sudden rush?" Mrs. Vera asked, her brow furrowing.

"I have a massive project starting next week, and my supervisor refused to let me push it back," Isabella groaned.

"What company is she with? If she's going to be difficult, we'll just buy her out," Mr. Edmund grumbled, completely serious.

Isabella waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, please, don't start. It's fine. Delayed or not, the wedding is happening, so the earlier we get it over with, the better."

She gently tugged my arm, pulling me toward the foyer. Mrs. Vera followed close behind.

The front entrance was absolute chaos. Ten tall, broad-shouldered movers were hauling heavy garment bags, massive floral arrangements, and wooden crates through the doors, heading toward the guest house.

Clara, our chef, was already struggling up the stairs with a stack of Isabella's garment bags.

"Easy with those, please! I don't want them wrinkled!" Isabella called out after her.

"Yes, ma'am!" Clara called back, sweating.

"And Mom!" Isabella turned around, her voice hitting a pitch that made me instinctively press my palms over my ears. "I need you to call the florist. The final centerpieces need to be delivered in the next few hours."

"Will you please stop shouting? I'm standing right behind you," Mrs. Vera scolded gently.

Isabella clamped her mouth shut, looking sheepish. "Oh. I thought you were still in the study."

"Well, I'm not," Vera said, taking the acrylic clipboard and pen right out of Isabella's hands. "I'll handle the deliveries." She turned toward the doorway, counting the boxes the movers were unloading. "Mara, please show these gentlemen where the storage room is."

I nodded quickly. "Of course, Miss Isabella." I turned to lead the movers down the hall.

Behind me, Isabella's loud voice echoed through the house again. "Clara! I need to see the catering samples!"

I heard Clara mutter a quiet, exasperated grumble under her breath as she wiped her hands on her kitchen towel. I caught her eye and gave her a small, sympathetic smile, but kept my mouth shut.

A few minutes later, I walked back into the living room and stood beside Mrs. Vera.

"Here is the master guest list," Vera said, handing me a thick stack of papers. "Go through these and help me sort out the seating chart."

I stared down at the foreign names on the pages, my stomach twisting slightly. "But, Mrs. Vera, how am I supposed to know who goes where?"

"I'm right here beside you, dear," she said warmly, sitting down on the sofa. "Just read the names out loud, and I'll tell you which table to assign them to."

I sat down on the edge of the cushion and flipped open the first page.

The very first name on the list stared back at me in bold, black ink.

My breath caught. The tiny piece of pancake I'd eaten earlier turned into a cold block of lead in my stomach. The air in my lungs vanished.

Deep within my chest, the quiet, sleeping presence that had stayed perfectly still for three years suddenly snapped awake. My wolf began to pace, clawing wildly at the edges of my mind, desperate to break through.

"Mara?" Mrs. Vera's voice sounded muffled, like she was speaking to me from underwater. "Is everything alright, dear?"

I swallowed hard, forcing my face to stay completely blank as I gripped the edges of the clipboard.

"Nothing, ma'am," I lied, my throat dry as bone.

The name on the paper seemed to glow under the living room lights, dragging my entire past back to life.

"Alright then," Mrs. Vera said, adjusting her glasses. "Go ahead and read it out."