The room Griffin gave me was on the second floor, corner position, with a window that faced east. I noticed the lock on the inside of the door first. Then the window latch, designed to open from within. No bars. No guards posted outside.
I set my mother's necklace on the small dresser and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was firm, the sheets clean. Everything smelled faintly of cedar and something else I couldn't name. Not unpleasant. Just... different.
My wolf stirred, restless but not panicked. She had been quiet since the rejection, nursing wounds I couldn't see. Now she lifted her head, testing the air.
Safe, she murmured. For now.
I pressed my thumb against my wrist. The phantom ache of the severed bond pulsed there, a reminder that would fade but never fully disappear. I had read about rejection in my mother's old books. The pain lasted weeks. Sometimes months. The wolf healed faster than the human half, but both carried scars.
A knock at the door made me tense.
"It's Marcus," a male voice called. "Griffin's Beta. I brought food."
I opened the door a crack. A man stood there, maybe thirty, with brown hair and steady eyes. He held a tray with bread, soup, and water. No ceremony. No judgment in his expression.
"You don't have to eat with the pack if you're not ready," he said. "Griffin's orders. You eat when you want, where you want. No questions."
I took the tray. "Thank you."
He nodded once and left.
I closed the door, locked it, and ate alone.
---
Three days passed in a strange, suspended quiet. I stayed in my room mostly, venturing out only to walk the grounds when I knew the training fields were empty. Silverfang's territory was larger than Black Moon's, more densely forested. The pack house itself was older, built from stone rather than wood, with high ceilings and narrow windows that made it feel like a fortress.
I saw Griffin twice. Once from a distance, crossing the courtyard with his Gammas. Once in the hallway outside my room, late at night. He didn't speak. Just paused, met my eyes for a brief moment, and continued walking. His scent lingered after he was gone—cedarwood and night air, sharper than I remembered.
My wolf noticed. I ignored her.
On the third night, I woke to shouting.
I pulled on clothes and went to the window. Below, at the edge of the tree line where Silverfang's border markers stood, a group of wolves had gathered. I recognized the Black Moon insignia on their uniforms even from this distance. And at the front, flanked by warriors, stood Dane.
Etta was beside him.
She wore white. A long dress, formal, with a circlet on her head. I knew that circlet. Dane's mother had left it for his true mate. For me. Etta wore it like a crown.
My hands curled into fists.
I left my room and headed downstairs. By the time I reached the main entrance, half of Silverfang's pack had already assembled. Griffin stood at the front, his posture relaxed but his eyes hard. Marcus was at his right. Two Gammas flanked the door.
"Stay inside," Marcus said when he saw me.
I ignored him and stepped onto the porch.
Griffin's head turned slightly. He didn't tell me to go back. He just shifted his stance, placing himself between me and the border.
Dane's voice carried across the clearing. "I'm here for Remi Hoffman. She belongs to Black Moon. She has obligations—"
"She rejected you." Griffin's voice was quiet, but it cut through Dane's speech like a blade. "Publicly. In front of your entire pack. She owes you nothing."
Dane's jaw tightened. "She's still bound by pack law. She can't just—"
"She can." Griffin took one step forward. "And she did."
Etta spoke then, her voice soft and sweet. "Remi, please. You're confused. You're hurt. Come home. We can fix this."
I almost laughed. The audacity of it—standing there in my dress, wearing my circlet, asking me to come home.
Griffin didn't give me a chance to respond. He shifted.
Not fully. Just enough. His shoulders broadened, his hands elongated into claws, and his eyes went pure amber. The air around him thickened, pressing outward in a wave of raw dominance that made my knees weak even from ten feet away.
Dane's warriors dropped. All of them. Knees hit the ground, necks bared, wolves whimpering in submission they couldn't control.
Dane himself staggered. His Alpha wolf tried to hold, tried to stand, but Griffin's aura was Lycan-level. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command written into the bones of every wolf present.
Dane's neck tilted. His wolf forced the submission. He bared his throat.
Etta's smirk disappeared.
Griffin spoke once, his voice layered with the growl of his wolf. "Come to this border again uninvited, and I will treat it as an act of war."
Dane couldn't answer. His wolf wouldn't let him.
Griffin held the aura for another five seconds, then released it. Dane gasped, stumbling backward. His warriors scrambled to their feet, eyes wide, humiliation written across every face.
Etta grabbed Dane's arm, pulling him toward the tree line. He didn't look back.
I watched them disappear into the forest. My heart was pounding, but not from fear.
From satisfaction.
Griffin turned and walked past me without a word. His Gammas followed. Marcus paused at the door.
"You should get some rest," he said.
I nodded slowly. But I didn't move. I stood on that porch until the night went quiet again, until my wolf stopped pacing, until the phantom ache in my chest felt just a little bit lighter.
---
The next morning, Marcus found me in the hallway.
"Griffin wants to know if you're interested in training," he said. "With the warriors. No pressure. But if you want to, the offer's there."
I thought about the eight years I had spent at Black Moon. The strategy I had built in silence. The border logs I had memorized. The defense plans I had drafted and never received credit for.
"Yes," I said. "I want to."
Marcus smiled. "Good. We start at dawn."
I met his eyes. "I'll be ready."
And for the first time since I had crossed that border, I believed it.
