I woke to the sound of Felix shifting outside my door.
It was the third night in a row. I hadn't asked him to do it. He hadn't offered an explanation. But every night since the photographs from Silverpeak Lodge had gone viral through the pack gossip networks, I'd felt Nara's distress bleed through the walls of my composure — low whines, restless pacing, the kind of grief that had no outlet because I refused to give it one. And every night, sometime after midnight, I'd hear the soft pad of paws in the hallway, the quiet huff of breath as a massive wolf settled against the door.
The Blackmoor staff noticed. Kira mentioned it once, carefully neutral, while we were sparring in the training room. "The Prince hasn't slept in his own quarters in three days."
I wrapped my hands tighter and said nothing.
She didn't push.
This morning, I adjusted my route.
We ran at dawn — parallel paths through the forest, close enough to be aware of each other, far enough to maintain the fiction that we weren't running together. It had started the second day. I'd needed to move, needed to burn off the hollow ache in my chest, and Felix had been on the trails already. We'd nodded once and kept our distance.
Today I closed the gap by half.
I didn't plan it. I just found myself angling toward his path, matching his pace, close enough now that I could hear his breathing, steady and controlled even at a full sprint. He noticed. His stride didn't falter, but his head turned slightly, grey eyes tracking me for half a second before he faced forward again.
Neither of us said anything.
We ran for another twenty minutes, the distance between us holding at maybe fifteen feet, and when we looped back toward the estate, I felt something in my chest ease that had nothing to do with the exercise.
At the edge of the clearing, Felix slowed to a walk, then stopped. He shifted.
I had seen him shift before — every werewolf shifted, it was nothing special — but I had never paid attention to the details. This time I did. The fluid grace of it, the way his wolf form collapsed inward and reshaped itself into human muscle and bone. And the scar.
It ran across his left shoulder, a jagged line of old tissue that looked like it had been deep once. Claw marks, maybe. Or teeth. The kind of wound that should have killed someone if they weren't strong enough or fast enough or lucky enough.
I looked at it for two seconds longer than I meant to.
Felix's eyes found mine. He didn't cover the scar. He didn't explain it. He just stood there, bare-chested and unbothered, and waited to see what I would do.
I turned and walked toward the house.
Behind me, I heard him exhale — not quite a sigh, not quite relief. Something in between.
Nara stirred. *He noticed that we noticed.*
*I know,* I told her.
*And he didn't ask.*
*I know.*
She settled, thoughtful, and for the first time since the bond had snapped, she didn't feel quite so alone inside my head.
---
Brandon arrived at noon.
Kira found me in the library, where I'd been working through Blackmoor's territorial agreements with a notebook and a pen, trying to understand the architecture of Felix's alliances. She stood in the doorway and said, flatly, "Brandon Cole is at the gate. With Skyler Knight. Requesting an audience."
I set the pen down. "Did he say what he wants?"
"An apology. His words."
Nara snarled. I felt my lip curl before I could stop it.
"Where's Felix?"
"Council chamber. He said to bring you there when you're ready. He also said—" Kira paused, choosing her words carefully. "He said it's your call. If you want them gone, they're gone."
I stood. Smoothed my shirt. "I'll see them."
Kira nodded once and led the way.
The council chamber was on the first floor, a long room with a heavy oak table and windows that overlooked the training grounds. Felix stood at the far end, arms crossed, his face unreadable. He looked at me as I entered, and something passed between us — not words, not a plan, just an understanding.
I took the seat at the head of the table. Felix moved to stand behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the weight of his Lycan aura coiled and waiting.
"Send them in," I said.
Brandon entered first. He looked worse than I'd ever seen him — shadows under his eyes, his Alpha aura dimmed, his wolf barely present behind his gaze. Skyler followed, red-eyed and trembling, clutching a tissue like a prop.
Brandon's eyes went to me, then to Felix, then back to me. His jaw tightened.
"Quinn," he said. His voice was rough. "I came to apologize."
I said nothing.
Skyler sniffled. "I never meant to hurt you, Quinn. I was confused, I was scared, Brandon is my *brother*—"
"Stop," I said.
She stopped.
I looked at Brandon. "You brought her here."
"She wanted to explain—"
"You brought her here," I repeated, "to *my* territory, wearing *my* pendant, and you think an apology is going to fix this."
Brandon flinched. "It's not like that. Quinn, please. You acted impulsively. I know you're hurt, but we can fix this. Come back to Silverfang. Your place is still there. As my Luna."
Behind me, Felix went very, very still.
I leaned back in my chair. "My place."
"Yes."
"The place where I funded your pack's rebuild out of my own wages. Where I trained your warriors because no one else would come. Where I nursed you through a rogue attack in a freezing safe house while you bled out on the floor."
Brandon's face went pale.
"That place," I continued, my voice flat and cold, "is occupied. By your sister. In my bed. Wearing my pendant. At the retreat I booked."
Skyler made a small, choked sound.
I pulled out my phone. Opened the folder I'd prepared this morning. Turned the screen toward them.
Photographs. Timestamps. Location tags. The Silverpeak Lodge reservation under my name. The moonstone pendant's provenance documentation. A side-by-side comparison of Skyler's social media posts and the original honeymoon itinerary I'd sent to Brandon six months ago.
"I've already sent this to every allied Alpha in the region," I said. "They know exactly what you are."
Brandon stared at the screen. His hands shook.
"Get out," I said.
He looked up. "Quinn—"
Felix's aura dropped like a hammer.
Brandon and Skyler both went to their knees, gasping, heads bowed, necks bared in automatic submission. The Lycan aura filled the room, a physical weight that made the air hard to breathe.
I did not move. I did not bend.
Felix's voice was low, deliberate, and absolutely final. "You heard her."
Brandon dragged himself to his feet, pulling Skyler up with him. His wolf was howling — I could see it in his eyes, the desperate, animal grief of a bond that had been severed and a mate who would not come back.
He looked at me one last time.
I looked through him.
They left.
The door closed.
Felix's aura retracted. The room felt breathable again.
I sat very still, my hands flat on the table, and felt Nara settle inside me — not happy, not satisfied, but steady. Solid.
Felix moved around the table and crouched in front of my chair, bringing his eyes level with mine.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
I met his gaze. Grey eyes, patient and unflinching.
"Yes," I said.
And I meant it.
