Emilio POV:
The dinner was supposed to be romantic—a textbook attempt at moving on.
I had rented out the entire terrace of the pack's finest restaurant for just the two of us. Candles flickered in the evening breeze, casting long, dancing shadows against the white tablecloths, while a violinist played softly in the corner.
Hayden sat across from me, looking stunning in a crimson dress that hugged her curves. She was laughing, twirling a lock of hair around her finger in a practiced, flirtatious motion.
"And then Leo said he wants a pony," she giggled, taking a sip of wine. "Can you believe it? A pony! I told him, 'Daddy is the Alpha, maybe he can get you a dragon!'"
She laughed again. It was a high, tinkling sound, like crystal striking crystal.
I smiled, but my facial muscles felt stiff, as if the expression didn't belong on my face.
"A dragon might be hard to find," I said, my voice dry.
"Oh, you know what I mean," she said, waving a manicured hand dismissively. "So, about the Luna ceremony. I was thinking we should redecorate the main hall. That drab grey stone is so depressing. Maybe gold? And velvet drapes?"
The suggestion grated against my instincts.
"That stone is structural granite," I said automatically. "Covering it traps moisture and weakens the mortar."
Hayden blinked, her smile faltering. "Boring. You sound like... her."
The air between us instantly grew cold.
"Don't," I said, the warning low in my throat.
"Well, it's true," Hayden pouted, swirling the wine in her glass. "She was always so practical. So dull. You need color, Emilio. You need life. That's what I bring."
She stood up and walked around the table, ignoring the chair to sit on my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her chest against mine.
"I make you happy, don't I?" she whispered, nipping at my ear.
I smelled her perfume. Vanilla and rose. It was pleasant, sweet even.
But it wasn't *right*.
My wolf, usually dormant these days, shifted uneasily in my chest, pacing in the darkness. He missed the smell of rain. He missed the smell of ink and parchment.
"Yes," I lied, the word tasting like bile. "You make me happy."
Hayden smiled, satisfied. "Good. Because I ordered the gold drapes anyway."
She kissed me. I kissed her back, trying to lose myself in the sensation, trying to ignite the spark that was supposed to be there.
But all I felt was friction.
I looked over her shoulder at the moon. It looked lonely tonight, hanging suspended in the dark void.
The pale light reminded me of earlier today.
I had walked past the nursery. The one Elana designed. The sunlight had hit the windows in a way that illuminated the entire room without using electricity. It was genius—pure architectural brilliance.
I had reached for my phone to text her, to tell her how clever it was.
Then I remembered. She was dead.
I pushed the thought away, forcing it down. Hayden was here. Leo was here. This was what I wanted. This was the life I had chosen to survive.
So why did the wine taste like ash?
