登入I can't breathe.
Caden stands in the middle of Damian's front yard like he owns it, he does owns everything. His dark hair catches the morning light. His ice-blue eyes sweep over the Silvermoon pack members with that look I know too well—the one that says *you're beneath me* without him having to open his mouth.
Behind him, six Bloodmoon warriors. Big guys. The kind who enjoy hurting people.
I should look away. Hide like Maya told me to. But I can't move. Can't do anything but stand here at this window, clutching the curtain, watching my past face my present.
Damian hasn't moved either. He's standing maybe ten feet from Caden, arms loose at his sides, expression completely blank. But I can see it—the tension in his shoulders, the way his weight shifts slightly onto the balls of his feet. Ready. Always ready.
"Caden Ahearn." Damian's voice carries up to my window. Calm. Almost bored. "You're a long way from home. And you brought friends. Should I be flattered or offended?"
"I'm not here for you, Vargasin." Caden's voice hits me like a physical thing. I've heard that voice whisper promises. I've heard it say my name like I mattered. Now it's just cold. Empty. "I'm here for what's mine."
Something in my chest twists. *What's mine.* Like I'm property. Like he didn't throw me away.
"I don't have anything of yours." Damian doesn't move. Doesn't blink. "Check your borders. Maybe you dropped something on the way here."
One of Caden's warriors steps forward. "We have intelligence that the fugitive Selena Hayes crossed into your territory last night. She's wanted for questioning regarding the attempted murder of Lucas Ahearn."
"Fugitive." Damian says the word like it tastes bad. "That's a strong word for a woman who was bleeding out on my land."
Caden's expression flickers. Just for a second. Then it's gone.
"So you admit she's here."
"I admit nothing." Damian takes one step forward. Just one. But it changes everything. "I'm telling you that if a woman showed up on my border half-dead from rejection sickness, I'd help her. Because I'm not a monster. Unlike some people."
The tension spikes. I can feel it even from up here—that moment when a fight goes from possible to probable.
"I don't want trouble, Vargasin." Caden's voice is tighter now. "Hand her over and we leave."
"She's not a package to be handed over." Damian's voice drops. Gets quieter. More dangerous. "She's a person. And she's under my protection. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to turn around, take your warriors, and walk back to your territory. And if I ever see you near my borders again, I'll assume it's an act of war."
"You'd go to war over a Beta's daughter?" Caden actually laughs. It's ugly. "A woman you've known for what, twelve hours?"
Damian's smile is worse than his blank face. It doesn't reach his eyes.
"I'd go to war over anyone who needs protecting. That's what an Alpha does." He pauses. "You should try it sometime. Might stop your pack from bleeding members."
Caden's face goes red. He takes a step forward. His warriors follow.
And then Maya is there.
She appears out of nowhere, sliding up to Damian's side like she owns the place. She's holding something—a piece of paper. She shoves it at Caden.
"Read this." Her voice is bright, cheerful, completely at odds with the situation. "Go on. It's from the neutral zone council. See, when someone seeks sanctuary in a territory and the Alpha grants it, you can't just come grab them. There's paperwork. Forms. Very boring stuff." She beams at him. "But also legally binding."
Caden stares at the paper. Doesn't take it.
"You think paper stops me?"
"I think attacking another Alpha over a rejected mate makes you look desperate." Maya shrugs. "But hey, what do I know? I'm just the Alpha's annoying little sister."
Damian puts a hand on her shoulder. Pulls her back gently.
"Go inside, Maya."
"But I'm winning—"
"Now."
She huffs but goes. Shoots me a look on the way—some kind of signal I don't understand.
Caden's eyes follow her. Then they lift. To my window.
To me.
Our eyes meet through the glass. And for one second—one stupid, horrible second—I feel it. The ghost of the bond. That echo of something that used to be there.
His face changes. Shock. Confusion. Something that might be pain.
Then it hardens again.
"There." He points at me. "She's right there. You're hiding her in your own house. This is—"
"This is my territory." Damian steps directly into Caden's line of sight, blocking his view of me. "And you're leaving. Now."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll show you why they call me the Savage Alpha."
The words hang in the air. No one moves. No one breathes.
Caden's warriors shift uncomfortably. They know the reputation. Everyone knows the reputation. Damian Vargasin doesn't make threats. He makes promises.
Caden holds Damian's gaze for a long, long moment. I can see him calculating—odds, outcomes, political fallout. He's always been good at that. Too good.
Finally, he steps back.
"This isn't over." He says it to Damian, but his eyes flick toward my window. "She's still Bloodmoon. Still answerable for what she did."
"She didn't do anything." The words rip out of me before I can stop them. I'm at the window, yanking it open, leaning out like an idiot. "You know I didn't do anything. You just don't want to admit, your brother's a liar."
Every head turns toward me. Great. Fantastic.
Caden's face goes pale. Then red. "You don't get to—"
"She gets to speak." Damian doesn't turn around. Doesn't take his eyes off Caden. "She's on my land. She has rights. More than you gave her."
Caden looks at me. Really looks. And for a second, he's not the Alpha. He's not the man who destroyed me. He's just Caden—the guy who held my hands, who said I was his, who I trusted with everything.
"Selena." My name in his mouth. Broken. "If you come back, I'll—"
"You'll what?" I hear my voice crack. "Question me? Put me on trial? Let your mother finish what she started?" I shake my head. "No. I'm done being your pawn."
"I didn't mean—" He stops. Swallows. "I was wrong. Maybe. I don't know. But you need to—"
"Go home, Caden."
Damian says it quietly. Finally turns to look at me—just a glance, just a second—and something passes between us. Understanding. Support. *I've got this.*
Caden sees it. His jaw tightens.
"Fine." He turns away. Motions to his warriors. "We're leaving."
They go. Walk past Damian, past the Silvermoon pack members, back toward the tree line. Caden doesn't look back.
I watch until the forest swallows them. Then I slide down the wall, my legs giving out, my whole body shaking.
The door opens. Damian fills the frame.
"You okay?"
I laugh. It's not a happy sound. "No. No, I'm really not."
He crosses the room, sits on the floor next to me—not too close, but close enough. His shoulder is inches from mine.
"He'll be back." I say it quietly. "Caden doesn't give up."
"I know."
"He'll bring more warriors next time. Or he'll find a political angle. Or he'll—"
"Selena." Damian's voice cuts through the spiral. "Let him come. I meant what I said. You're under my protection. That's not nothing."
I look at him. His silver eyes are steady. Certain. Like he's never doubted anything in his life.
"Why?" The word comes out broken. "Why do you care? You don't know me. I'm nothing to you."
He's quiet for a long moment. The fire crackles. Somewhere in the house, Maya's voice carries—she's on the phone, probably telling someone about the drama.
Then Damian turns. Looks at me full-on.
"When I found you in the rain, half-dead, I could have walked away. Should have walked away. You're right—you're nothing to me. A stranger from an enemy pack." He pauses. "But my wolf took one look at you and stopped fighting."
I don't understand. "What does that mean?"
He holds my gaze. "It means my wolf recognized something in you. Something I don't understand yet." He stands, offers me his hand. "It means you're not nothing. Not to me."
I stare at his hand. At the calluses, the strength, the steadiness.
I take it.
He pulls me up easily, steadying me when I wobble. Doesn't let go right away.
"Get some rest." His voice is softer now. "Maya will bring food later. And Selena?"
"Yeah?"
"No one's taking you anywhere you don't want to go. Not while I'm breathing."
He leaves. The door clicks shut.
I stand there in the middle of his room, holding onto the warmth of his hand like it's the only solid thing in the world.
And for the first time since the rejection, I don't feel empty.
I feel... scared. Hopeful. Confused. All of it at once.
But not empty.
Not anymore.
Greta's POVThe blood doesn't stop.It pours from the gash on Selena's forearm—a wound that wasn't there minutes ago, a wound that appeared from nowhere, as if invisible fang had torn through her flesh while she slept.The sheets are soaked crimson. The mattress squelches beneath my knees. Maya is screaming, her hands shaking as she grabs a cloth and presses it to the wound, trying to stem the flow."What's happening?" Maya cries. "Greta, what's happening?!""I don't know!" I grab another cloth, pressing it down, applying pressure. "Keep pressure on it! Don't let go!"We work frantically, wrapping bandages around Selena's forearm, layer after layer, trying to stop the relentless flow. The blood seeps through the white fabric, staining it red, spreading like a living thing.Selena doesn't wake. Her face is still peaceful, still serene, as if she's sleeping through a nightmare I can't see.---After wha
Greta's POVThe morning light filters through the windows, soft and golden, but it brings no warmth to the room. The air is still. Heavy. Waiting.I sit beside Selena's bed, her hand in mine, my thumb tracing slow circles on her skin.She's been asleep for hours now—too many hours.Her face is peaceful, her breathing steady, her body still. She looks like she's simply resting. Like she'll wake up any moment and smile at me and ask what all the fuss is about.But she doesn't wake.I've tried everything. I've checked her pulse, her temperature, her reflexes. I've used every healing technique I know—every herb, every prayer. Nothing works.She's not sick. She's not injured. She's just... gone. Trapped somewhere I can't reach.The door opens, and I don't look. I know it's Maya. I recognize her footsteps—quick, urgent, worried.She crosses the room in three strides and stands on the other side
Selena's POVI follow the light.My legs are shaking. My heart is pounding. My whole body feels like it's made of glass—fragile, breakable, one wrong move from shattering completely.But I walk anyway. I have to. Because the light is her. And I've been running from her for too long.The glow grows brighter with each step. White. Pure. Faintly silver at the edges. It pulses like a heartbeat—slow, steady, alive.And then I see her.She's curled in on herself. A tight ball of white fur and trembling limbs.But even curled up, she's massive—larger than any female wolf I've ever seen. The size of something that shouldn't exist in the mind of a woman who can barely do anything.I stop.I'm small before her. Insignificant. A tiny human standing before a creature of myth and legend.Her fur is white—or it should be. But it's faded now. Dull. Streaked with grey and something darker. Li
Selena's POVI'm standing on the first step of the white staircase.The void stretches endlessly around me—black, empty, silent.The stairs descend into darkness, one step at a time, disappearing into shadows I can't see through. My white gown billows around my ankles though there's no wind. My bare feet are cold against the luminous steps.I take a breath. Then I take a step.And the first memory appears.I see myself—barely seven years old—standing in front of a mirror. My eyes are red and swollen from crying. Behind me, in the reflection, Mama lies on the bed.And there, in the corner of my mind, I see her.My wolf.A small white pup, confused, whimpering, trying to reach out to me."I hate you! You hurt Mama! I never want to see you again!"The words echo in the void around me, sharp and cruel."You monster! Look what you did! You're not my wolf… you're a beast! A filthy, disgusting beast! I wish you had never been born!"*The wolf howls. It's a sound of pure, shattered grief. And
Selena's POVThe room is dark.The only light comes from the pale moon filtering through the curtains, casting silver shadows across the floor.Maya is asleep beside me on the vast bed, her breathing soft and even, her face peaceful in a way mine will never be. Greta is on the other side, her face relaxed.I can't sleep.I'm lying on my side, staring at nothing. The tears come and go, silent streams that slide from one eye, across the bridge of my nose, and disappear into the pillow beneath my cheek.I don't wipe them away. I don't try to stop them. What's the point?My mind is a storm, thoughts crashing against each other like waves in a hurricane. Since I realize it was really not her fault.My wolf.I think about her—really think about her—for the first time in years.Not as a tool. Not as a power. Not as something to be feared or controlled or suppressed.As a companion. The ot
Selena's POV"Why did my wolf attack my mother?"The question hangs in the air between us. It's a question I've carried for ten years—a wound that never healed, a mystery that haunted every quiet moment, a guilt that gnawed at my soul.Greta doesn't flinch. She doesn't look away. She simply takes my hand in hers, her fingers warm against my cold skin."There are two possibilities," she says softly. "And I believe both are true."I wait, my heart pounding."Your wolf didn't attack your mother because she was evil. She didn't attack her because she hated her. She attacked her because she was terrified."I blink, confused."Think about it, Selena. You were a child. It was your first shift. Your wolf had never been out before... never seen the world, never smelled the air, never felt the grass beneath her paws. Everything was new. Everything was overwhelming. The sounds were too loud. The smells were too s
I wake up to sunlight and the smell of something cooking.For a second, I forget where I am. Think I'm back home, in my tiny room, with Dad making breakfast downstairs. Then I see the white walls, the unfamiliar ceiling, the fireplace with cold ash in it.Right. Silvermoon. Damian's house. Not dead
I wake up in a bed that's not mine.That's my first thought. Before I open my eyes, before I remember anything—just that the sheets smell different. Like pine and something else. Something clean and sharp.Then everything comes rushing back. The rejection. The run. The rain. The wolves.I sit up so
I don't remember leaving the pack grounds.One minute I'm on that platform, choking on my own vomit, and the next I'm in my room with my dad shoving clothes into a bag. My hands still won't stop shaking. My whole body shakes. It's like the rejection burned through everything—muscles, bones, the par
My hands won't stop shaking.I press them flat against my thighs, but the tremors just move up my arms. The white dress my mom wore thirty years ago feels too tight around my ribs, or maybe that's just my lungs forgetting how to work."You'll ruin it." My dad's voice comes from behind me. Soft. Car







