Isabelle POV:
I scrambled out of bed and stumbled to the ornate, full-length mirror against the wall.
A girl stared back at me. A child.
Her face was mine, but younger, softer. The cheeks were full, the eyes wide and unburdened by the horrors I had just witnessed. Fourteen years old.
My breath hitched. I was alive. I was young.
This had to be a dream. Another torture devised by Jalon in the afterlife.
I dug my nails into the soft flesh of my arm. Pain, sharp and real, shot up to my shoulder. I gasped. It wasn't enough.
My bare feet padded across the cool, familiar grain of the hardwood floor. I shoved open the window, and the morning breeze, damp with dew and smelling of fresh-cut grass, washed over my face. It was real. The sun on my skin was real.
The crushing weight of it all-the fire, the betrayal, the impossible reality of this moment-sent a wave of nausea through me. I lurched into the adjoining washroom and retched into the basin, but nothing came up.
A soft knock came at my bedroom door. "Miss Isabelle? Are you alright?"
It was Lucy, my personal maid. Her voice, so full of life, sent another shock through me.
"I'm fine, Lucy," I managed to call out, my voice raspy. "Just a nightmare."
The door creaked open. Lucy bustled in, her kind face etched with concern as she took in my pale face and disheveled state.
"Oh, you poor thing," she clucked, her hands fluttering. "Don't you worry about some silly dream. A bit of fun will chase it right away! There's the summer gathering by the lake today. Everyone will be there!"
The lake.
The gathering.
My blood ran cold. I remembered this day with perfect, horrifying clarity. This was the day I had made a fool of myself, publicly and shamelessly fawning over Jalon Wells for the first time. The beginning of my end.
"No," I said, the word coming out sharper than I intended. "I'm not feeling well. I'm not going."
Lucy's face fell. "But Miss, the Matriarch Genevieve gave a direct order. All the young members of the pack must attend."
I had to get away from him. I couldn't see him. But I had no choice.
Dressed in a simple summer dress I barely remembered, I let Lucy lead me out of the manor and toward the lake. The grounds were alive with the excited chatter of other young wolves. Their conversation, carried on the breeze, revolved around one person.
Jalon Wells. The prodigy who had just bested every other warrior-in-training.
We arrived at the shore. A vibrant crowd was spread across the lush green lawn. My eyes, against my will, scanned the faces.
And then I saw him.
He was standing with my cousins, Aidan Blackwood and Julian Blackwood . He was sixteen, maybe seventeen. The cruel, sharp edges of the man he would become were not yet visible. He was just... beautiful. Tall, graceful, with an easy confidence that drew every eye.
A gasp for air caught in my throat. I felt like I was drowning all over again. I turned on my heel, ready to flee.
"Look, Miss, isn't it lovely!" Lucy chirped, oblivious to my terror. She grabbed my arm, trying to pull me toward the throng of people. "Let's go say hello!"
In her eagerness, her foot slipped on a patch of damp grass.
"Whoa!" she cried out, her body lurching backward. Her hand tightened on my arm like a vise, pulling me with her.
I twisted, trying to steady her, but my own balance was gone. The world tilted, a blur of green grass and blue sky.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd as I fell backward, a single, sharp scream tearing from my throat.
The icy shock of the lake water stole my breath.
Cold. Dark. Suffocating.I flailed, but my arms and legs felt like lead.
Shouts erupted from the shore.
Then, a splash. A powerful figure cut through the water, moving toward me with terrifying speed.
Through the murky blue, I saw his face.
Jalon Wells.
His arm, strong and unyielding, wrapped around my waist, pulling me upward. The moment his skin touched mine, a jolt, hot and electric, shot through every nerve in my body.
We broke the surface. I coughed, sputtering, as he held me tight against his chest.
A scent filled my senses, overwhelming and intoxicating. Cedar and wind. It was him.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm. My body, this stupid, traitorous body, trembled uncontrollably.
