SilverCrest hadn’t changed… and that was the strangest part of all.
The scent of pine sap and campfire still clung to the earth. The same moss-covered stones lined the creek where she used to skip rocks. Children’s laughter echoed through the dens, just like it had years ago—before Kael, before duty, before betrayal.
Aria stood at the edge of the training field, her shawl pulled tightly over her belly. It was just past dawn, and the pack was beginning to stir. Warriors stretched under the pines, wolves shifted in and out of form, and pack mothers emerged from cabins with baskets in hand.
It looked like peace.
It didn’t feel like home.
Not yet.
“Staring too long makes you look like prey,” said a voice behind her.
She turned sharply. “Milo.”
The lanky scout leaned against a tree, arms crossed, the same cocky smirk on his face she remembered from childhood. His shaggy brown hair had grown longer, but his sharp green eyes hadn’t softened a bit.
“I heard the rumors,” he said, stepping closer. “But I didn’t believe them until I caught your scent myself.”
Aria forced a smile. “Rumors travel fast.”
“So do traitors,” he said casually. “But I guess you’re back now.”
She stiffened. “I didn’t betray SilverCrest.”
“You left,” he said. “Right after the trials. No goodbye. No explanation. Then you turn up years later, knocked up with Draven’s heir.”
Pain shot through her, fast and hot. But she didn’t flinch. “You don’t know what happened.”
“Maybe not.” His gaze dropped to her belly. “But everyone’s watching. You brought a storm with you.”
She lifted her chin. “Then they’d better learn to stand in the rain.”
Milo stared at her for a long moment before huffing a short laugh. “You sound like the old Aria. The one who used to mouth off at elders and race me through the ravine.”
“I buried her,” she said. “But maybe it’s time she clawed her way back.”
He gave her a nod. “Well… if you need backup, I’ve still got two fists and half a brain.”
“That’s generous.”
“I thought so.”
Later that morning, Aria found herself in the healer’s hut. It was the same rounded stone building she used to sneak into as a cub, hoping to hear stories of battle wounds and love potions.
But now it was her blood on the parchment.
“You’ve been eating well,” said Maela, the clan’s elder healer. Her hands were gentle but thorough as she pressed along Aria’s abdomen. “The child is strong.”
Aria looked away. “Too strong sometimes. I swear it’s already got claws.”
Maela smiled. “Wouldn’t surprise me. It’s got Alpha blood.”
The words stirred something sharp and aching inside her.
Maela’s voice softened. “You still feel the tether?”
Aria nodded. “It pulses when he’s near. Or thinking of me. It’s not constant—but it’s there.”
“That’s the child,” Maela said, eyes thoughtful. “Even if your bond was severed, the baby’s connection is untouched. You carry a part of him, Aria. Until that child draws its first breath, you’ll always feel it.”
Aria’s chest tightened. “Can it be blocked?”
“Yes,” Maela said. “But it would require old magic. And a cost.”
“Cost?”
“You’d sever the child’s natural tether to its father. And… to the bond.”
Aria’s throat closed. “Would it hurt the baby?”
“No. But it would change them. How they sense the world. How they connect. Maybe even how they shift.”
Aria was silent for a long moment.
“Not yet,” she finally whispered. “Not unless I have no choice.”
Maela nodded. “You’re wise to wait.”
But even as she left the hut, the question gnawed at her.
What if Kael used the bond to track them? What if he came for the child, not her?
What if he didn’t come at all?
That evening, Alpha Thorn called her to the fire circle.
The elders were gathered, their faces lit by flickering flame, their eyes heavy with judgment. Warriors stood at the edges, arms folded, whispers stirring like wind through leaves.
Thorn’s voice carried through the circle. “Aria Vale has returned to SilverCrest, seeking sanctuary.”
“She brings war,” muttered one elder.
“She brings the heir to another pack,” said another.
“She brings shame,” snapped a third.
Aria stepped forward, heart pounding. “I bring truth.”
The circle stilled.
“You all speak of legacy,” she said, voice steady. “Of alliances. Of honor. But where was the honor when the council let Kael sever our bond for a ghost? Where was the outrage when I was cast aside like a broken blade?”
No one spoke.
“I didn’t come here to beg,” she continued. “I came here to protect the child growing inside me. A child who carries power you all fear. Not because of its father—but because of me.”
A few gasps.
Alpha Thorn raised a brow. “And what would you have us do?”
“Let me stay. Let me train. Let me prepare for what’s coming.”
“And what is coming?”
Aria looked into the flames.
“The day Kael comes to claim what he lost.”
Later that night, as she curled on her side in the cabin, Aria traced her belly through the blanket. Her child was quiet now, curled in sleep.
Outside, the forest whispered its lullabies—wind in the branches, owls in the dark, the heartbeat of a pack she was trying to belong to again.
She had stood before them. She had spoken her truth.
It wasn’t enough yet.
But it would be.
