Emma

I looked at this stranger who'd saved me. This Lycan Alpha with toys on his floor and gentleness in his hands.

"Why did you help us?"

Something flickered in his eyes. Pain. Longing. Loss.

"Because I know what it's like to be hunted for what you are," he said quietly. "And because no one deserves to be claimed against their will."

There was a story there. Something raw. But before I could ask, a small voice called from upstairs.

"Daddy?"

Marcus's entire demeanor changed. Softened. "I'm here, sweetheart."

A little girl appeared at the top of the stairs, maybe five years old, with curly dark hair and bright eyes that were puffy from sleep. She clutched a stuffed wolf against her chest.

"I heard noises," she said. "Are the bad dreams back?"

"No, baby. Just some new friends who needed help." Marcus climbed the stairs and scooped her up. "Let's get you back to bed."

"Can I meet them tomorrow?"

"Maybe. If you sleep now."

The girl peered over his shoulder at us, curious. Her eyes landed on me, and she smiled.

"You smell like Daddy's safe smell," she said.

Marcus tensed. "Sophia, that's enough."

"But you do!" Sophia insisted. "Like the woods after rain. Daddy always relaxes when he smells that."

My heart stuttered. I looked at Marcus, and his expression was carefully blank. Too blank.

"Tomorrow, Sophia," he said firmly, carrying her back upstairs.

Dad and Dr. Cross were very deliberately not looking at me.

"What did she mean?" I asked. "About me smelling like—"

"You need rest," Dad interrupted. "We all do. We'll talk more tomorrow."

"Dad—"

"Emma." His voice carried that tone. The one that meant the conversation was over. "Please. Tomorrow."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand answers to the thousand questions burning in my mind. But exhaustion was pulling at me, and my incomplete wolf was completely silent now.

Owen touched my shoulder. "Come on. I'll show you to a room."

I followed him upstairs, passing Marcus on his way down. Our eyes met for a brief second, and that heat flared again. Confusing. Overwhelming.

Terrifying.

The guest room was simple but comfortable. Owen lingered in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "For not telling you sooner. For letting you think you were weak when really you were just..." He trailed off.

"Becoming a monster?"

"Becoming powerful." His eyes were fierce. "Richard saw it before we did. The way your wolf retreated wasn't weakness, Em. It was preparation. Transformation. When the blood moon comes—"

"I'll be strong enough to defend myself."

"You'll be strong enough to destroy anyone who tries to control you." He smiled slightly. "Mom would be proud."

Tears burned my eyes. "She should be here."

"Yeah. She should." Owen's voice cracked. "But she made sure you'd survive. That's what mattered to her."

He left, and I sat on the bed, pulling Mom's silver bracelet from my bag. In the moonlight streaming through the window, I could see tiny inscriptions I'd never noticed before. Latin words.

*Strength in blood. Power in choice. Freedom in transformation.*

Mom had known. She'd prepared me without me even realizing it. All those stories about being brave. About choosing my own path. About never letting anyone else define my worth.

She'd been telling me how to survive what was coming.

I clutched the bracelet and let myself cry. For Mom. For the life we'd just left behind. For the impossible future stretching ahead of me.

Six months until the blood moon.

Six months until Richard came for me.

Six months until I became something I didn't understand.

A soft knock interrupted my tears.

"Come in," I called, wiping my eyes.

Marcus stepped inside, holding a glass of water and some pain medication. His presence filled the room, commanding but not threatening.

"Thought you might need these," he said.

I took them gratefully. "Thank you. For everything. For saving us."

He nodded, but something in his expression was troubled. Conflicted.

"Emma, I need to tell you something."

My pulse quickened. "Okay."

He started to speak, then stopped. His jaw clenched, and I watched him war with himself. Finally, he shook his head.

"Get some rest. We'll talk tomorrow. There's a lot you need to learn about Lycan transformations."

"Marcus." I stood up, moving closer. "What did your daughter mean? About me smelling like your safe smell?"

His silver eyes met mine, and I saw everything he was trying to hide. Longing. Recognition. Something deep and primal.

"Children sometimes sense things adults try to ignore," he said carefully. "Sophia is very intuitive."

"That's not an answer."

"No," he agreed quietly. "It's not."

He turned to leave, and panic flared in my chest. I didn't understand it. Didn't understand why this stranger leaving my room felt like losing something vital.

"Will you stay?" The words escaped before I could stop them. "Just until I fall asleep. I don't want to be alone with all this in my head."

Marcus froze. Every line of his body was tense. When he turned back, his expression was agonized.

"Emma, I can't—"

"Please."

He closed his eyes, fighting something internal. Then he nodded once, sharp and decisive.

"Just until you sleep."

He sat in the chair by the window, careful to keep a distance between us. I lay down, pulling the blanket up, watching him silhouette against the moonlight.

"Can I ask you something?" I whispered.

"Yes."

"Your daughter's mother. Where is she?"

Pain crossed his face. "She left when Sophia was two weeks old. Said she couldn't handle what I was. The Lycan side scared her." He smiled bitterly. "She severed our mate bond and disappeared."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Sophia is better off without someone who couldn't love all of her." He paused. "But it taught me something important. That being what we are comes with a cost. People fear power they don't understand."

"You think people will fear me?"

"I think people will try to use you. Richard isn't the only Alpha who wants control of Lycan power." His eyes met mine in the darkness. "But you're stronger than you know. Your mother made sure of it."

Sleep was pulling at me, but I fought it. Wanting to stay in this moment. This quiet conversation with someone who understood.

"Marcus?" My voice was getting distant. "Thank you for not making me feel like a monster."

"You could never be a monster, Emma," he said softly. "You're a miracle."

I fell asleep to those words, wrapped in warmth I didn't understand.

What I didn't see was Marcus staying there all night. Watching over me. His hands clenched on the chair arms as he fought every instinct screaming at him to protect his mate.

The mate who didn't know she belonged to him yet