Serena’s POV

The parchment crumbled in my fist.

Eight words.

That’s all it took to shift my entire world again.

“Return my daughter… or I burn your pack next.”

I wasn’t sure what stung more the threat itself or the reminder that, to my father, I was just a possession. A pawn to bargain, to retrieve. Not because he missed me. Not because he cared. But because someone had dared to touch what he claimed as his.

Damon stood by the window, arms folded, silent and still. Like a storm waiting to break.

“You’re not going back,” he said.

I didn’t respond.

Because part of me wanted to scream good. And part of me… didn’t know anymore.

“I’m not yours to keep either,” I said quietly.

His jaw tensed. “You’d rather go back to him?”

My eyes flicked to the scroll again. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Damon strode across the room in a blur of motion. “Then let me help you decide.”

He reached into the drawer beside the hearth and dropped a worn black journal into my hands. It was old. Scarred. The leather nearly torn from age and use.

“My mother’s,” he said, voice rough. “Read the last entry.”

I hesitated, fingers trembling as I flipped through pages filled with careful, loving handwriting. Notes of herbs. Sketches of flowers. Letters to a younger Damon.

Until I reached the final page—smudged with blood.

March 3rd.

Victor Grey and Magnus arrived under the guise of diplomacy. Damon sensed something. I should have listened. When I opened the guest chamber doors, I found Magnus standing over Aldric’s body. My mate is gone. They’ll find me next.

But if Damon survives—if by some miracle he lives—he must know the truth. His father died a noble Alpha. Betrayed by those he trusted most.

The world tilted beneath my feet.

I stared at Damon. “This… can’t be…”

“It is,” he said. “They slaughtered everyone. My father, our guards, the council elders. My mother died trying to hide me.”

“No,” I whispered. “My father would never—”

He slammed another file down. Photos. Letters. Seals. I scanned through it in growing horror confidential documents, hidden alliances between Magnus and Victor, hand-signed agreements authorizing covert strikes.

And worst of all: a photo of my father smiling beside Magnus, with blood-drenched armor and a caption in Magnus’s scrawl:

“The Blackwoods won’t see the dawn.”

I staggered back.

Everything I believed. Every word my father ever told me. Every punishment I took for “the greater good.” All of it was built on lies.

I looked up. “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because I need to know what side you’re on,” Damon said.

My breath caught. “You think I’d still side with him?”

“I don’t know what you’ll do. But you’re still his daughter. And my pack won’t trust you unless they see you bleed for something other than yourself.”

My voice shook. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you trust me?”

Silence.

His gaze flickered, stormy and unreadable.

“Does it matter?” he finally said.

It did. More than I wanted to admit.

But before either of us could speak again, Lena burst through the door, eyes wide.

“You need to come. Both of you.”

***

We followed her to the center of the pack’s border outpost. A rogue wolf lay tied and bloodied against the fence, muttering gibberish through broken teeth.

Trey looked up from where he crouched. “Caught him trying to sneak in. Says he has a message for Serena.”

I stepped forward cautiously. The rogue raised his head, blood caked to his snout.

“Pretty little Grey,” he rasped, voice slurred. “Your daddy’s not waiting. He’s coming.”

“What?”

He grinned. “Tonight. He’ll burn this place to the ground.”

Damon growled low. “Who else knows?”

The rogue coughed a laugh. “Everyone. The old alliances have rallied. You stole their bargaining chip. They want her back. Dead or alive.”

My blood ran cold.

“They’ll start with the villages,” the rogue said, wheezing. “Then the rest.”

And that’s when I realized—

They weren’t here for me anymore.

They were here to make a point.

A warning.

Damon turned to his warriors, barking orders.

But I barely heard him.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t afraid of my father.

I was angry.

Furious.

He hadn’t just lied. He hadn’t just betrayed me.

He was going to murder hundreds to reclaim control.

And I’d helped him do it. For years.

No more.

I turned to Damon. “I want to fight.”

He stared at me. “You’re not ready.”

“Then make me ready.”

Trey raised an eyebrow, but didn’t laugh. No one did.

Because they all saw it now the shift in me.

I wasn’t the daughter of Victor Grey anymore.

I was something else entirely.

And I would not run.

***

That night, as the moon rose and the torches were lit around the pack walls, a war horn sounded in the distance.

One.

Two.

Three blasts.

Then silence.

Until a lone voice echoed through the trees:

“Send her out, or we burn it all.”