The morning sun broke through the trees and the pack grounds were quieter than Elena remembered. Its pale light spilling over the stone walls and wooden watchtowers. Wolves moved in silence, their steps cautious, their eyes flickering toward her as she passed. Every pair of eyes carried curiosity… and something colder. Suspicion.

Elena clutched her torn shawl closer to her chest. Her legs trembled as she walked through the familiar gates, but nothing about the place felt welcoming anymore. Her heart beat fast, unsure if she was safe, unsure of what waited inside.

A woman stood near the entrance, her long black hair glinting under the moonlight. Her sharp green eyes studied Elena the way a hawk watched prey. Her stance was confident, her aura strong. Even without speaking, Elena could sense her authority.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other. The woman’s expression was unreadable, but her gaze was cold.

Then, from behind her, a softer voice broke the silence.

“Elena?”

Elena turned and saw Skylar, the woman she vaguely remembered seeing before everything went wrong. Skylar’s kind face brought a small relief that washed over her chest.

“You’re safe now,” Skylar said gently as she approached, placing a hand on Elena’s arm. “You must be exhausted.”

Elena nodded weakly. Her throat felt dry. “I… I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“You’re home,” Skylar said, offering a small smile. “Or at least, somewhere safer than before.”

The dark-haired woman finally spoke, her voice calm but edged. “The Alpha brought her back himself?”

Skylar shot her a look. “Mira, please.”

Mira folded her arms and turned away without another word.

Elena lowered her gaze. “She doesn’t like me, does she?”

Skylar sighed softly. “She’s just… protective. She’s been with the Alpha for a long time. Don’t take it personally.”

Elena nodded even though her chest ached a little. She was too tired to argue. Skylar led her away from the courtyard, past the main hall, and into a long corridor lined with wooden pillars carved with intricate wolf symbols. The scent of herbs and firewood hung in the air. Everything about this part of the pack house felt different, stronger, more guarded.

“Where are we going?” Elena asked quietly.

“To your room,” Skylar replied, guiding her up the staircase. “You’ll be safe here. No one can come in without permission.”

Elena’s steps slowed. “You said… safe. Why would I need that?”

Skylar hesitated, glancing at her before answering. “Because someone wanted you taken. And Derek—” she caught herself, lowering her voice, “our Alpha doesn’t take chances anymore.”

They stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. Skylar opened it and stepped aside for her.

Elena’s mouth fell open slightly.

The room was beautiful—simple but elegant. A soft carpet stretched beneath her feet, and a large window let in silver light. There was a tall mirror by the corner, a wooden desk, and a bed covered with thick blankets. Everything was clean, warm, and inviting.

“I… I’ve never seen a room like this,” Elena whispered.

Skylar smiled faintly. “It’s one of the guest chambers. You deserve rest, Elena. After what you’ve been through…”

Her voice trailed off, and she stepped closer. “No one will harm you here. I promise.”

Elena met her eyes. “Why are you helping me?”

Skylar’s expression softened. “Because he would never forgive himself if you were hurt again.”

Elena’s stomach tightened at the sound of he. She didn’t need to ask who Skylar meant.

Skylar walked to the door. “Rest. I’ll have a meal sent up to you.”

When the door closed, Elena stood still for a long time, the silence pressing around her. Then her knees gave in, and she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling. Everything had happened too fast—Magnus, the fire, Derek’s monstrous form, and that moment before darkness took her.

Her mind replayed the sound of Derek’s voice when he fought. The fury in his eyes. The way his beast looked both terrifying and familiar.

A knock came at the door, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said softly.

A young maid entered, pushing a tray with steaming food. The smell of roasted meat, vegetables, and freshly baked bread filled the air.

“Alpha’s orders,” the maid said shyly. “You’re to eat before resting.”

Elena gave a faint smile. “Thank you.”

The maid nodded and left as quietly as she came. Elena ate slowly, each bite heavy with exhaustion. When she finished, she set the tray aside and collapsed onto the bed. The softness of the blankets pulled her in like a cocoon.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself rest.

×

×

She didn’t know how long she had slept. When she opened her eyes, the room was dark, the moonlight spilling faintly through the curtains. She stretched, the scent of fresh linen and something else filling her nose.

Something familiar.

Her heart skipped a beat.

It was faint but distinct, the same scent that had haunted her since she first met him. It wasn’t like the earthy smell of wolves or the sharp tang of blood. It was something cleaner. Citrus. Like crushed lemon peel and warm skin.

She sat up, her pulse quickening. The scent wasn’t coming from her room. It drifted from somewhere nearby.

Elena stood, her bare feet silent on the floor. The air felt heavier as she followed the scent toward the corridor. Her hand trembled as she turned the handle and stepped out.

The hall was dimly lit, the torches burning low. She followed the smell until she stopped in front of the door opposite hers. It was larger, darker, with markings carved into the wood. The air around it seemed to hum faintly.

Her curiosity overpowered her hesitation. Slowly, she pushed the door open.

The room inside was different—larger, grander. The walls were stone but smooth, engraved with symbols she didn’t recognize. A fireplace burned low in the corner, throwing soft orange light across the space. Heavy curtains framed tall windows, and animal pelts were draped over carved wooden furniture. Everything about the room spoke of power and history.

Her eyes lingered on the massive bed in the center. Black sheets, silver embroidery, the scent of citrus stronger there than anywhere else.

She took a step inside, her fingers brushing the edge of the doorway. “Whose room is this?” she whispered to herself.

A low rumble answered her, not from the room, but from her own chest. Her heartbeat quickened, loud in her ears.

And then she saw him.

He stood near the bed, the firelight washing over his bare skin. His back was to her, broad and scarred, every muscle visible under the dim glow. His hair was damp, strands falling against his neck. The smell of citrus wrapped around him.

Elena froze.

Derek turned slowly, his golden eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of them moved. The air grew thick, her breath shallow.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The silence carried everything—their bond, their confusion, the pull neither of them could deny.

Elena wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her eyes traced the faint scars across his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing. She swallowed hard.

“I…” Her voice trembled. “I didn’t mean to—”

Derek took a step toward her.

Elena’s words died in her throat. She took a step back, but her back met the door. He was bigger, broader than she remembered. The heat coming off his skin reached her even from a few feet away.

“Derek,” she whispered. “I was just…”

He moved closer, his expression unreadable but intense. His hand reached out, fingers brushing her jaw lightly, almost as if testing whether she was real.

She couldn’t breathe. Her mind screamed to move, but her body wouldn’t listen. Every instinct she had told her to run. Every other told her to stay.

The space between them vanished. Derek’s eyes darkened, his breath warm against her lips.

Her heart raced so fast it hurt.

And then, before she could speak again, he closed the distance completely.

His lips clamped onto hers.