The streetlamp outside Ava's window cast a golden glow over the couch, where Alexander sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Ava had given him an old t-shirt of her dad's—too small across the shoulders, the sleeves riding up to reveal the muscles in his forearms—and a pair of sweatpants that looked comically tight. He'd laughed when he put them on, a low, rumbling sound that made her stomach flutter.
Now, though, the laughter was gone.
Ava set two mugs of tea on the coffee table, steam curling into the air. "You gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?"
He looked up, eyes dark in the dim light. "Guess what?"
"About the fire. About Eleanor. About whatever's got you looking like you've seen a ghost."
Alexander picked up a mug, wrapping his hands around it like he needed the warmth. "It was 1927. The year Eleanor died. My grandfather was Alpha back then. Strict, ruthless—thought weakness was a sin."
Ava sat beside him, leaving a few inches between them. "And Eleanor?"
"Her son was seven. Sick with something the healers couldn't fix. The Council found out. Said they'd cure him… if she spied on her own pack. Told them where the rogues were hiding, when the Alpha would be vulnerable." He took a sip of tea, his hand shaking. "She agreed. But she was terrible at it. Got caught within months."
Ava's throat tightened. "So your grandfather…?"
"Ordered her to be executed. For treason." Alexander's voice was quiet, raw. "But my father—he was 18, stupidly idealistic—snuck her out. Told her to run, take her son and never look back."
"What happened to the fire?"
He closed his eyes. "The Council found out my father helped her. They sent wolves to track her down. My father followed, trying to stop them. By the time he got there… the cabin was already burning."
Ava's breath hitched. "Eleanor was inside?"
He nodded. "Her son was hiding in the woods, watching. My father pulled him out, but… Eleanor was gone. Burned alive."
"Oh my God."
"Her son hated us after that. Changed his name to Thompson, moved across the country. Swore he'd never have anything to do with werewolves. And my father? He carried that guilt for the rest of his life. Said he failed her. Failed all of us."
Ava thought of her great-grandfather, the man who'd never spoken of his mother. The man who'd locked away her photo, like it hurt too much to look at.
"And Lorenzo?" she asked. "How does he fit into this?"
"His father was on the Council. Pushed hardest for Eleanor's execution. Lorenzo grew up hearing stories about how the Blackwoods were weak, how we'd let a traitor nearly destroy the pack." He set the mug down, hard enough that tea sloshed over the edge. "He thinks I'm just like my father. Soft. Willing to risk everything for a human."
Ava reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Is that such a bad thing?"
He looked at her, and for a second, she saw it—the boy he'd been, the man he was, all the weight he carried. "It got Eleanor killed."
"Lorenzo's wrong. You're not weak. You're… complicated." She squeezed his hand. "And so was Eleanor. So am I. That's not a sin."
Alexander leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry I lied. About the fire. About everything."
"Apology accepted. This time."
He kissed her, slow and soft, like he was savoring it. The world narrowed to the feel of his lips, the warmth of his hand in hers, the faint taste of tea on his tongue.
When he pulled away, he rested his chin on her head. "Stay with me. At the mansion. Just until we know Lorenzo's gone for good."
Ava pulled back, frowning. "You mean until you know I'm not gonna dig up more secrets."
"Until I know you're safe." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Please. I can't lose you too."
Something in his voice—raw, vulnerable—made her nod before she could think. "Okay. But I'm bringing my own coffee. Yours tastes like dirt."
He laughed, a real laugh this time, and for a moment, the shadows lifted.
The next morning, Ava packed a bag while Alexander leaned against the doorframe, watching.
"Need help?" he asked.
"Unless you know how to fold a bra, no."
He raised an eyebrow. "I could learn."
Ava threw a sock at him. "Pervert."
He caught it, grinning. "Guilty."
They stopped at a diner on the way to the mansion, Alexander wearing his own clothes again—black jeans, a leather jacket that made Ava's pulse race—and Ava in a hoodie and sneakers.
A waitress with pink hair winked at Ava as she set down their pancakes. "Cute boyfriend. Kinda intense, though."
Ava choked on her coffee. "He's not—"
"Thanks," Alexander said, grinning.
Ava kicked him under the table.
After breakfast, they drove to the mansion in silence, but it was a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from knowing someone well enough to not need words.
The mansion felt different in the daylight—less like a fortress, more like a home. Alexander led her to a guest room, but Ava shook her head.
"Show me the library."
He raised an eyebrow. "The library?"
"I want to see if there are any books about Eleanor. About 1927."
He sighed. "Stubborn."
"Always."
The library was massive, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a ladder on wheels, a fireplace bigger than Ava's apartment. Alexander ran a hand along a shelf, pulling out a leather-bound book.
"Family records. Good luck. It's all in Latin."
Ava flipped through the pages, squinting at the tiny writing. "I took Latin in college. Nerd, remember?"
He laughed. "Surprises never end with you, do they?"
Ava settled into an armchair, Alexander beside her on the couch, as she translated the records. Births, deaths, Alpha trials… nothing about Eleanor, at first.
Then she found it: a small entry, written in a shaky hand.
Eleanor Blackwood. Exiled. 1927. Cause of death: fire. Son: Thomas. Status: missing.
Ava's breath caught. "That's it? No mention of the Council? Of the blackmail?"
Alexander leaned over her shoulder, reading. "My grandfather erased most of it. Said it was a stain on the family name."
Ava slammed the book shut. "This is bullshit. She was a victim, not a traitor."
"I know."
"Then do something about it. Tell the pack. Clear her name."
He shook his head. "It's not that easy. The Council—"
"Screw the Council. Screw your grandfather. This is wrong."
Alexander stood, pacing. "You don't understand. The pack relies on tradition. On order. If I start rewriting history—"
"Then maybe the pack needs to change." Ava stood too, facing him. "You're the Alpha, aren't you? Use your power for something good. For once."
He stopped pacing, jaw tight. "You think this is easy? Going against everything I've been taught? Risking a rebellion?"
"I think it's right."
They stared at each other, neither backing down.
Finally, Alexander sighed. "Fine. I'll call a pack meeting. Tell them the truth. But if it backfires—"
"Then we deal with it. Together."
He nodded, a faint smile on his face. "Together."
That night, the pack gathered in the mansion's ballroom—wolves in human form, dressed in everything from suits to jeans, all watching Alexander with respect, curiosity, even fear.
Ava stood beside him, her hand in his, as he cleared his throat.
"Thank you all for coming. I've called this meeting to set the record straight. About Eleanor Blackwood."
A murmur ran through the crowd.
"Eleanor was not a traitor. She was blackmailed by the Council, threatened with the death of her son. She did what she had to do to protect him." Alexander's voice boomed through the room. "And when my grandfather ordered her execution, my father tried to save her. She died in a fire, set by the Council, not by us."
Gasps, whispers. A man in a suit stepped forward. "This is a lie. Eleanor betrayed us. Everyone knows that."
"It's not a lie," Ava said, stepping forward. "I'm her great-granddaughter. Her son was my great-grandfather. He spent his life hiding, because he was afraid of what you'd do to him."
The crowd went silent.
Lorenzo's voice echoed from the doorway. "How touching. A family reunion."
Ava's blood ran cold.
He stood there, flanked by two wolves, a smirk on his face. "Did you really think exiling me would stop me? I'm a Voss. This is my home too."
Alexander stepped in front of Ava, growling. "Leave. Now."
Lorenzo shook his head. "Not until I get what's mine. The Alpha title. And her." He nodded at Ava.
The crowd tensed, wolves shifting, ready to fight.
Ava placed a hand on Alexander's arm. "It's okay."
She stepped forward, silver light flickering around her. "You want a fight, Lorenzo? Fine. But you're not gonna get it. Not here. Not like this."
Lorenzo laughed. "What are you gonna do? Calm me? I'm not a rogue, sweetheart."
"Maybe not. But they are." Ava nodded at the two wolves beside him.
They froze, whimpering, as the silver light washed over them.
Lorenzo's smile faded. "Traitors."
He lunged at Ava, but Alexander tackled him, shifting mid-air.
The crowd scattered as they fought—Alexander in wolf form, massive, powerful, Lorenzo in human form but fast, ruthless, grabbing a chair and swinging it at Alexander's head.
Ava screamed, silver light exploding from her.
Alexander froze, mid-attack, as the light hit him. Lorenzo took advantage, stabbing Alexander in the shoulder with a silver knife.
Alexander howled, collapsing.
Ava ran to him, silver light pulsing around her, healing the wound.
Lorenzo grabbed her arm, pulling her away. "Come with me, Ava. We could rule together. You and me. Think about it."
Ava stared at him, then at Alexander, struggling to stand.
She smiled, silver light flickering in her eyes. "Over my dead body."
She kicked him in the groin.
Lorenzo doubled over, cursing.
Alexander tackled him, pinning him to the ground, jaws inches from his throat.
"Kill me," Lorenzo panted. "Do it."
Alexander hesitated.
Ava stepped forward. "Don't."
She knelt beside Lorenzo, silver light surrounding him. "You're not a monster, Lorenzo. You're just scared. Afraid you'll never be good enough. But you are. You just need to stop trying to prove it."
Lorenzo froze, tears in his eyes.
Alexander stepped back, shifting back to human form, blood dripping from his shoulder.
The crowd watched, silent.
Lorenzo stood, wiping his eyes. "Get out of my way."
He walked out, head held high, the two wolves following.
No one stopped him.
Alexander pulled Ava close, kissing her forehead. "How did you do that?"
Ava smiled. "Moon-blood. Remember?"
The crowd cheered, wolves howling, as Alexander lifted Ava into his arms, spinning her around.
That night, Ava lay in Alexander's bed, listening to his heartbeat, as he traced patterns on her back.
"Happy?" he asked.
"For now. Until the next disaster."
He laughed. "There's always a next disaster. But we'll face it. Together."
Ava nodded, snuggling closer.
Outside, the moon rose, silver and bright, casting light over the mansion, over the wolves, over the secrets that had torn them apart and the love that was bringing them back together.
And for the first time in a long time, Ava felt like she was home.