“I won’t return pretending to be the broken girl who left. I won’t hide behind silk and lineage.”
I took Ayla’s hand. “I’m not here as the discarded daughter of Stormfang. I’ve come back as retribution.”
A flicker of pride crossed his expression. “Then make them remember who you are.”
That same day, still wrapped in blood-stained rags and carrying my half-frozen daughter, I crossed into the capital of Nightfang Pack.
The manor loomed ahead—twisting black stone and bone-thread banners flapping against the sky. Two guards snarled when I approached.
“State your business,” one barked.
“I have a message for Alpha Damien.”
The other scoffed. “Do you think we let strays wander into the Alpha’s Keep?”
I met his gaze. “Tell him his mate has returned.”
His lip curled. “Alpha Damien has no rogue mate. He has Luna Elara—the mother of the future Alpha. If you speak again, I’ll have your tongue.”
I knew this would happen.
I dropped to my knees, pulled Ayla close, and let my voice carry across the stone courtyard.