Then Elara came. His brother's widow.Pretty, perfect Elara. With her bright-eyed bastards and her hungry smile.
She wore the Luna’s mark like she was born for it.
When I returned, I was invisible.
Erased.
So I kneel here, five years older. Colder. My knees cracking in the ice. My hands raw.
And I whisper the words I never thought I would say again.
“Father… forgive me.”
Chapter Two
Damien forgot us—so deeply that when we died, he didn’t mourn. He didn’t rage. He celebrated.
He told Elara, “No need for the severance anymore. She's taken care of.”
But death couldn’t hold me. And this time, I was taking Ayla and rewriting our fate.
The wind screamed across Frostfang Ridge as I knelt before the stone gates of Stormfang Keep—my father’s territory. I held Ayla’s frozen hand in mine, my back straight despite the snow slicing at my skin.
Guards whispered behind their steel-forged spears. One of them—a young wolf with pity in his amber eyes—vanished into the hold.
When he returned, his voice was tight. “Alpha Gideon will see you.”
The heavy doors creaked open, and the cold that poured out had nothing to do with the snow.