Casey woke up with a scream caught in her throat. Her heart hammered against her chest like a war drum. Her body, damp with sweat. The nightmare was still fresh in her mind.
Trent had stood over her, his eyes full of rage and betrayal. Her sister, the venomous shadow of herself, whispered lies into his ear, twisting his love into something violent. In the dream he had chosen her sister over her. He had killed her.
She clutched her arms around her body as tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn't dare sob out loud.
Beside her. Lily slept.
Casey froze.
One wrong move, and she'd wake her daughter, and there were some things a child didn't need to see—especially not this fragile, broken side of hers.
So, she slipped out of the bed and paddled into the kitchen. She tugged her pants up over her waist, hiding the faint scars on her hip that still throbbed when the memories returned.
The cottage was still and dim, but the warmth of routine gave her focus. She made breakfast— she made egg and roasted bread doused in honey for Lily. Her hands moved in autopilot. The scent of food brought a bit of normalcy to an otherwise haunted morning.
By the time Lily stirred awake, Casey had already placed the plate on the table.
"I'm going to work," Casey whispered as she kissed Lily's head. "Be good, okay?"
Lily nodded, still half—asleep, and curled up with her plate on the sofa. Casey smiled softly and stepped out into the cool morning air.
As she walked to the pack house, she thought about Lily. The child was growing fast—smarter too. She needed school, a place to be around other kids, to learn and play. But that would require money, and Casey barely had enough for essentials. Stil,l she held onto the thought. One day soon, she'll figure it out.
When she returned, the other workers were already gathered.
"No gardening today," one of the women said. "No teacher either." "We're being shuffled around."
A few of the general maids huffed as they passed by. "Head maid's assigning tasks. She wants you upstairs."
Casey found herself standing in front of the head maid a moment later. The woman barely looked up from her clipboard.
"The Alpha's room. It needs to be spotless before he returns." Her eyes lifted from the clipboard and was a bit taken back when she realized she gave it to Casey, who was new. "Don't touch anything you shouldn't."
Casey nodded and made her way up the grand staircase. The hall smelled faintly of pine and smoke. She hesitated outside the room, before pushing the door open.
Inside, the space was expansive but surprisingly simple. Clean lines, dark wood, navy sheets—regal but not flamboyant. The kind of space a powerful man may use to hide how lonely he was.
She cleaned quietly, wiping down surfaces. Fluffing pillow, fixing the corner of his bed. She found herself humming softly—something from her childhood—until she noticed a small leather-bound journal, half–hidden beneath a decorative blade resting on a shelf.
Curiosity tugged at her. The journal was old, the cover cracked slightly, and smelled like myrrh…..and roses.
She shouldn't have.
But she did.
She opened it. Flipping carefully through the pages.
"To lose one's wolf is to lose one's shadow." one entry read. "But even shadows return in the light. I will find her again. I must."
The handwriting was graceful, feminine and unmistakably, the Luna's.
Casey's breath caught in her throat.
Another page: "The moon goddess is silent. But I believe she waits. A wolf lost by vow may return....not with time, but with transformation."
Her hands trembled.
It was possible. It was possible.
She bent over the journal, flipping to other entries, hungry for more—but a sudden chill ran down get spine.
The book was yanked from her hands so hard her fingers burned.
She gasped, spinning around.
Standing behind her, was Alpha Vlad, eyes dark as a thunderstorm, shoulders squared in fury. His jaw clenched so tightly, she could hear the faint grind of his teeth.
His voice. When it came. It was ice-cold.
"What do you think you're doing?"