Genevieve POV
I woke up in a bed that felt like a cloud. The sheets smelled of lavender and sun-dried cotton. There was no stench of grease. No metallic tang of blood.
"Easy, Princess."
A warm, large hand covered mine.
I flinched violently, my instinct to protect myself kicking in before my conscious mind could catch up.
"It's okay. Genny, look at me. You're safe."
My vision cleared. Caleb Meyer was sitting by my bedside. He was handsome, but not in the polished way of the court. He was striking in a rugged, dependable way. Dark hair, kind hazel eyes, and shoulders broad enough to shield me from anything.
And his scent...
Gods, his scent. It wasn't overwhelming and suffocating like Ignatz’s had been. It was grounding. Like fresh earth after a rainstorm, mixed with warm sandalwood. It made the wolf inside me—my newly awakened, giant White Wolf—purr.
*Mine,* she whispered through the fog in my mind. *Safe. Home.*
"Caleb?" I whispered, my throat dry as sandpaper. "Where..."
"Royal Estate," he said softly. "Your father brought you home. You've been asleep for three days. Your body... it had a lot of healing to do."
Memory crashed into me like a physical blow. The warehouse. The doctor. The baby.
A tear slid down my cheek. Caleb reached out hesitantly, then wiped it away with his thumb. A jolt of electricity shot through me at his touch—sharp, undeniable, and shockingly pleasant. Like waking up from a long numbness.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry we didn't get there sooner."
The door opened and my father walked in. He looked ten years older than I remembered, lines of worry etched deep into his face.
"Genny," he breathed.
"Daddy," I broke.
He rushed over and gathered me into his arms. He smelled of power and safety. I buried my face in his chest and wept. I wept for my lost innocence, for the five years of torture, and for the tiny life that never got a chance to breathe.
"They will pay," Father growled into my hair, his body vibrating with suppressed rage. "I have destroyed the Turner hierarchy. Ignatz is a prisoner in his own home."
Something shifted inside me. The grief didn't vanish, but it crystallized. It hardened into something sharp and deadly.
I pulled back, wiping my eyes. The weakness was fading. In its place, a cold, hard resolve was forming.
"No," I said. My voice surprised me. It was steady. Strong. "I don't want you to destroy them, Father."
"What?"
"I want to do it," I said. "I am the White Wolf. I am a Queen. I will pass the sentence."
I looked at Caleb. He was watching me with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" I asked him.
Caleb nodded slowly. "From the moment the bond with Ignatz broke. The Moon Goddess gave us a bridge. I am yours, Genevieve. If you'll have me."
I looked at his hand resting near mine. A Second Chance Mate. A gift I wasn't sure I deserved.
"I'm broken, Caleb," I said honestly. "I come with ghosts."
"Then we will fight them together," he promised.
Over the next week, I healed. My White Wolf, whom I named *Aurelia*, was a force of nature. When I shifted, I towered over the Royal Guards. My fur was impenetrable. My claws could shear through steel.
Father trained me. He taught me how to use the Alpha Command, how to project my aura not just to crush, but to control.
Caleb was there every step of the way. He didn't try to coddle me. He sparred with me. He let me tackle him, let me bite him in practice, let me regain my confidence in my own strength. He became the whetstone against which I sharpened myself.
Every touch strengthened the bond between us. It wasn't the frantic, toxic pull I had with Ignatz. It was a slow burn. A steady fire that warmed the cold corners of my heart.
On the seventh day, I walked into my father’s office. I was wearing a tailored black combat suit with the Royal crest—a silver wolf—stitched over my heart.
"I'm ready," I said.
Father looked up from his desk. He smiled, a grim, proud smile. "The airship is waiting."
"Caleb," I Mind-Linked. *Are the preparations complete?*
*Yes, my Luna,* his voice came back, rich and clear in my mind. *The Turner Pack has been summoned. They are waiting for their judgment.*
I walked to the window and looked out at the sprawling forest. Ignatz thought he knew power? He thought he knew pain?
I turned from the window, my eyes flashing gold.
I was about to teach him the true meaning of both.
