My parents had begged me to return for months, hounding me daily with calls and visits. I resisted every time. I had escaped from Dreadshade Pack and vanished into the quiet corners of Thornveil Pack—where nobody knew me.
Except Hannah.
She alone knew where I’d gone.
But that chapter was now closed.
I stepped out of my apartment, gripping my letter tightly. My feet moved on instinct, carrying me through dim alleyways and deserted streets.
I was heading toward the man who held power.
Toward the one who could give me what I needed—except the one thing my soul cried for.
Elior.
I could never hold my son again. But I could ensure justice. And those responsible for our suffering would face their consequences.
The estate rose before me like a fortress, silent and intimidating.
A butler led me inside, guiding me through the sprawling halls and into a grand drawing room.
“Lord Drakemoor will be with you momentarily,” he said politely.
I had barely settled on the divan when the doors opened with a soft creak.
There he stood.
Lord Aldric Drakemoor.
I had expected an elderly man with weary eyes and a tired gait.
But the figure who entered the room was neither frail nor aged.