The scroll arrived at dawn.
Zara found it first, nailed to the west cabin door with a silver pin etched in the shape of the SilverCrest crest—three crescent moons surrounding a sword. Her fingers curled around the parchment before Aria even stirred.
She didn’t need to read it to know what it meant.
But she did anyway.
Her eyes scanned the tight, formal script. One line stood out, bolded with wax:
By vote of the Elders of SilverCrest, the bearer of Alpha Draven’s child shall be granted provisional asylum until term is complete.
Zara’s jaw clenched.
Provisional.
Not full protection. Not pack status. Not safety.
Just tolerance. With conditions.
Aria stepped into the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her golden-blonde hair was pulled into a messy braid, and one hand rested over the subtle curve of her belly.
Zara handed her the scroll in silence.
As Aria read, her expression didn’t change. Not at first.
Then, slowly, the storm built behind her storm-gray eyes.
“They voted,” she said flatly.
Zara nodded. “Cowards wrapped in tradition.”
Aria’s fingers tightened on the edge of the scroll. “I stood before them. I bled for this land. And I’m still just a political inconvenience.”
“It’s fear. You’re a threat they can’t control.”
Aria stared out toward the forest. “Then maybe it’s time I stop asking for space… and start taking it.”
By midday, the decree had been posted across the main compound—outside the training fields, beside the dining hall, even on the back of the healer’s hut. Everywhere Aria walked, eyes followed her with renewed focus.
She wasn’t invisible anymore.
She was official.
Tolerated, but not embraced.
Seen.
Alpha Thorn summoned her just before dusk.
His office was dimly lit, a single lantern flickering against the stone walls. The windows were open to the cold air, and parchment covered the desk like scattered leaves. He didn’t look up when she entered.
“You read it, I assume.”
“I read it,” Aria said, voice clipped.
“And?”
“It’s a leash.”
Thorn looked up then, eyes glinting. “It’s a compromise.”
“It’s cowardice,” she snapped. “You say I bring danger—but you feed that danger every time you choose silence over strength.”
“You bring Draven’s heir.”
“I bring my heir,” she corrected. “You may not want that truth, but one day, this child will change the order of things.”
He studied her for a long moment. “You speak like someone building an army.”
“No,” Aria said. “I speak like a mother who refuses to let her child grow up in shame.”
Thorn sat back. “You’ll remain under protection. But you will not incite rebellion. Not here.”
“I don’t have to,” she said. “The pack’s already watching.”
She turned and left before he could answer.
That night, a knock came at the cabin door.
Zara opened it with a blade in hand, but relaxed when she saw who it was.
Milo stood on the porch, holding a sealed envelope.
“For you,” he told Aria. “Private courier. No scent.”
Aria took it slowly. The seal wasn’t Draven’s crest, but the wax shimmered faintly with magic.
Inside, one line.
SilverCrest is not the only territory that remembers you. – Greenwood.
Aria’s heart skipped.
Zara read over her shoulder. “Greenwood?”
“They were allies once. Before Kael severed the old treaties.”
“And now they’re reaching out?”
“Looks like it.”
Zara’s voice dropped. “Aria, this is more than a message. It’s an invitation.”
“Or a test,” Aria murmured. “To see if I’m still worth aligning with.”
Zara raised an eyebrow. “You are.”
“But do they know that?”
She didn’t sleep.
Instead, Aria sat by the window all night, watching the trees sway in the moonlight. The baby stirred once, soft and warm and alive beneath her ribs.
Provisional asylum.
Like she was a stray begging for scraps.
She clenched her fists.
She wouldn’t raise her child in a place that only tolerated them.
She’d carve out a future. One built on truth. On power. On the name they’d tried to erase.
By morning, she had made a decision.
Zara was already awake, brewing tea.
“We’re leaving?” she asked, without turning.
“Not yet,” Aria said. “But soon. When the time is right.”
Zara poured the tea. “And when it is?”
Aria looked out the window. “We go where we’re wanted.”
But Kael was already closer than they knew.
In the Draven war chamber, he stood over a map with his lieutenants. His hazel eyes were hard, jaw shadowed with stubble. His wolf hadn’t slept in days.
“She’s in SilverCrest,” one scout confirmed. “Protected. Barely.”
Kael’s heart clenched, but he didn’t show it.
“And the child?”
“She’s showing now. Three moons, maybe more.”
Kael closed his eyes for just a breath.
Then opened them, cold as steel.
“Send a raven to Alpha Thorn.”
“Sir?”
“Request an audience. Tell him I intend to speak… peacefully.”
“And if he refuses?”
Kael’s voice was low. “He won’t.”
Because Kael Draven had never begged in his life.
But this wasn’t about pride anymore.
It was about blood.
