The sound of hooves breaks the morning stillness.From the balcony, I watch the line of riders snaking through the valley below : black armor, silver insignia glinting in the sun. The Silver Moon Pack has arrived.
The pack that once threw me out like trash.The man who called me unworthy now rides through my gates.
The mountain wind cuts through my hair, carrying their scent.It's sharp, cold, familiar.I remember it too well : that blend of steel and regret.
Behind me, Kellan steps forward. "He's here, Alpha."
I turn slightly. "Escort him to the council chamber. Make sure every wolf in the stronghold sees who walks behind me today."
Kellan nods, understanding. It's not about cruelty. It's about memory.They all need to remember how far I've climbed.
The chamber doors open with a heavy groan.He enters first : tall, proud, still wearing the same dark expression that once made my heart stumble.Damian Blackthorn, Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack.And the man who destroyed me.
His presence hasn't changed, but everything else has.He used to tower over me. Now, I stand higher.
"Aria," he says. The sound of my name in his voice almost cracks something inside me, almost.
"Alpha Hale," I correct calmly.
His jaw tightens. "You've built quite the empire."
I tilt my head. "Empires rise from ashes. You taught me that."
His eyes flicker : shame, pride, something unspoken.Behind him, his warriors wait, their faces drawn with exhaustion.
I take in the details: torn armor, bandaged arms, desperation clinging to them like smoke. The great Silver Moon Pack is crumbling.
"What do you want, Damian?" I ask.
He hesitates. "A truce. We're surrounded by rogues. They've allied with the Crimson Fang. My people are dying."
"So you came here.""To ask for help."
I circle him slowly, my heels echoing against the marble floor. Every step is deliberate : the sound of control he once denied me.
"Help?" I echo softly. "Funny word. When I needed help, you gave me exile."
His fists clench. "Aria ..."
"Don't." I stop in front of him. "Don't say my name like you still have the right to it."
For a heartbeat, silence stretches between us : sharp and fragile.I can feel his heartbeat through the air, the pull that once tethered us like flame and oxygen.
"I was wrong," he finally says, voice low. "I see that now."
I smile without warmth. "You see it because you're losing."
He flinches, and for the first time, the Alpha looks human.
"Please," he says quietly. "For the sake of the packs. If not for me."
I study him. The proud man who once rejected me now stands where I stood : desperate, stripped of pride, pleading.
How poetic.
I lean closer, my voice barely a whisper. "Tell me, Damian. When you cast me out, did you imagine you'd ever beg at my feet?"
He looks up, eyes burning. "I didn't imagine I'd miss you every day after."
That line lands like a blade.But I don't let it cut.
"Your war isn't my problem anymore," I say. "You made sure of that."
He exhales, defeated. "At least let me speak to your council ..."
"My council doesn't negotiate with ghosts."
I turn away. "Escort the Alpha of Silver Moon to the southern guest wing," I order. "Guarded, not welcomed."
Two of my wolves move forward. He doesn't resist.
Just before the doors close behind him, his voice cuts through the air."There's something you don't know."
I pause.
He meets my eyes. "The rogues aren't after my pack. They're after you."
The room goes still.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because of what you're protecting," he says quietly. "Because of the child."
My blood freezes.
He knows.
Outside, thunder rolls over the valley again : just like the night he broke me.Only this time, it's not heartbreak I feel.
It's the beginning of war.