LOGINSelena's POV
Hours have passed since the war council wrapped up, but the maps still lie scattered across the table, weighed down by stones and marked with arrows and X's. Damian hasn't budged from his seat. He’s been staring at a particular spot on the map for what feels like twenty minutes.
I watch him from the doorway. The fire’s almost out, and the room is dim except for the flickering candlelight. He looks worn out, older than he actually is.
Selena's POVThe room is silent, the weight of Arthur's confession pressing down on all of us like a physical force. The morning light has shifted, the shadows growing longer as the hours pass. No one has moved. No one has spoken. We're all trapped in the gravity of what we've just learned.I finally find my voice."Where can we find this flower? The RedMoon?"Arthur shakes his head slowly. "I don't know.""What do you mean you don't know?""I mean exactly that." His voice is hollow. "I asked Lucy every month for years. She would send me the poison... already processed, already prepared. I never knew where she got the flower. I never knew how she made it. She kept that secret, and I never pushed. I was too consumed by my own grief to care about the details."I feel frustration building in my chest. "So we have no way of finding this flower? No way of creating a cure?""Lucy knows." Arthur looks at me, his eyes despe
Selena's POVThe living room of the pack house has never felt so heavy.Arthur sits in a single armchair near the fireplace, his hands clasped loosely in his lap, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the walls.The afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting pale shadows across his gaunt face. He looks older than his years—hollowed out by grief, worn thin by two decades of running from his own pain.Basil, Sela, Tristan, and Basilia stand by the window, their faces a mixture of shock and sorrow. The Council members sit on the long couch, their expressions carefully neutral, though I can see the weight of what they've heard settling into their bones.Sera and Gracia sit together on another couch, Sera's hand wrapped tightly around Gracia's, her face streaked with tears. Damian and I sit across from them, our hands intertwined, drawing strength from each other.We've just heard the story of that day. The at
Arthur's POVI don't think. I don't hesitate. I just move.The first wolf lunges through the broken frame—black-grey fur, amber eyes, jaws snapping for my throat. I put a bullet between its eyes before it takes another step. The body crumples, shifts back to human mid-fall, and crashes to the floor.The second comes from the left. I swing my sword, catching it across the chest. Blood sprays. It howls and falls.Then they're everywhere.I become a machine. A weapon. My pistol fires until it's empty, then I drop it and grip my sword with both hands. Slash. Parry. Thrust. I move through the chaos like a man possessed, my body remembering every lesson, every battle, every moment of training I've ever endured.A wolf leaps at Eve. I intercept, driving my blade through its heart. Another goes for the omegas. I kick it aside, then stab down, ending it.Claws rake across my back. Teeth sink into my shoulder. I roar in pain
Arthur's POVThe study is quiet, lit by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Papers spread across my desk—supply reports, patrol schedules, training requests. The endless paperwork of a Beta. But my mind isn't on any of it. It's on Eve and Esme. Always on them.A soft knock at the door. I don't look up. "Come in."The door opens, and I smell her before I see her—jasmine and vanilla, the scent that's haunted my dreams since the day I met her. The tension in my shoulders melts away. It always does when she's near.Eve crosses the room silently, her footsteps soft on the carpet. Then her arms wrap around my neck from behind, her body pressing against my back as she leans into me. Her lips brush my cheek, warm and gentle."You need sleep." she murmurs.I set down my pen and lean into her touch, my eyes closing.She kisses my cheek again, lingering this time. "You work too hard.""Someone
Selena's POVThe silence that follows is absolute.Arthur lowers the gun, his arm falling to his side. He stares at Walter's body for a long moment, his expression empty, hollow. Tears fall freely down his gaunt cheeks—not tears of triumph, but tears of grief.Of relief.Of twenty years of pain finally finding an outlet.Then he turns to face us—to face Gracia, to face the Council, to face Damian and me."I'm sorry," he says, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. For everything."Gracia struggles to his feet, still clutching his throat, blood seeping between his fingers. He looks at Arthur—at the man who was once his brother-in-law, his friend, his family—and tears stream down his face."Arthur," he chokes out. "You're alive."Arthur nods slowly, his eyes never leaving Gracia's face. "I've been alive. Hiding. Running. Believing lies." He doesn't look at Walter's body. He can't. "But no
Walter's POVThe tent is filled with laughter and cheers, the air thick with the smell of ale and sweat and celebration.Arthur stands in the center, his face flushed with happiness, his eyes bright with a joy I've never seen before. He's just announced to marry and mate with Eve, and the warriors are losing their minds.I pull him into a rough embrace, pounding his back. "Finally! I thought you'd never work up the courage, you fool!"Arthur laughs, pulling back to look at me. "I was terrified. But she said yes. She actually said yes.""Of course she said yes." I grin at him. "Everyone knew she loved you. Everyone except you, apparently."The warriors cheer again, raising their cups. "To Beta Arthur and Lady Eve!"Arthur blushes, something I've never seen him do. He's always been so composed, so controlled. But love has a way of breaking down walls, doesn't it?"Alright, alright," he says, waving his hands. "Enough. Eve is waiting for me. I should go.""Go on then," I tease. "Don't kee
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
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







