Chapter 5
The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light through the window of my new chambers at Blackthorn Citadel. I slept peacefully for the first time in months, my wolf stirring restlessly within me as dreams of the past played out elsewhere.
---
Miles away, Lance Harrison jerked awake with a strangled cry. Sweat drenched his body as he sat up in bed, his eyes wild and unfocused. The sheets tangled around his legs as he fought against the phantom sensation of teeth sinking into flesh—not his own, but those of a massive Rogue bear.
"Alpha?" Derek appeared at the doorway, his face etched with concern. "Another nightmare?"
Lance ran trembling hands through his hair. "It's getting worse."
The herbal scent that usually permeated Nadia's quarters—the scent that had become synonymous with safety in Lance's mind—had faded in recent days. Aileen's supply of moonshade had run out, and without the masking herbs, the truth was clawing its way to the surface.
"I saw her eyes," Lance whispered, his voice hoarse. "The wolf that saved me—she had silver eyes."
Derek's expression shifted subtly. "Nadia's eyes are brown, Alpha."
"Get out," Lance growled, his wolf surging forward with unexpected aggression.
As Derek retreated, Lance pressed his palms against his temples. His wolf howled in distress, clawing at the edges of his consciousness. Something was wrong—had been wrong for years.
---
"Again," Rome commanded, his voice firm but encouraging.
I squared my shoulders and faced Marcus, Rome's Beta, across the training circle. Weeks had passed since my arrival at Blackthorn Citadel, and each day my strength returned a little more.
"Remember what I taught you," Rome said from the sidelines. "Feel your Alpha blood. Let it rise to the surface."
I closed my eyes, drawing on the power that had been suppressed for so long. When I opened them again, I felt the shift in my aura—a golden glow that made Marcus step back instinctively.
"Now," Rome instructed, "channel it through your movements."
Marcus lunged forward, his attack deliberately slow. I sidestepped and used his momentum to throw him off balance—exactly as Rome had shown me.
"Good," Rome nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Again, but this time, faster."
Marcus increased his speed, but something had awakened in me. My reflexes sharpened, my movements fluid and precise. When Marcus feinted left, I anticipated his real attack and swept his legs from under him.
The crash as he hit the ground echoed through the training yard. For a moment, silence fell—then laughter bubbled up from my chest, surprising even me.
"I did it," I gasped between laughs.
Rome's expression softened as he watched me, something primal and possessive flashing in his eyes. "You're a natural, Luna," he said, the title still new and strange to my ears.
---
The sound of my laughter lingered in Rome's mind as he watched me leave the training yard with Elena. His mate—his second chance—was blooming under his care, her wolf growing stronger each day.
"Alpha," Marcus approached cautiously. "The border patrols report increased activity from Blood River Pack."
Rome's expression darkened. "Lance?"
"His wolf is unstable," Marcus confirmed. "The scouts say he's been seen shifting unpredictably, attacking his own guards."
Rome nodded grimly. "The rejection price."
---
Lance paced Nadia's empty chambers, his nerves frayed raw. She had gone to visit her mother, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and the growing certainty that something was terribly wrong.
His eyes fell on the small wooden box on her dresser. Without conscious thought, he opened it and removed the wolf-tooth necklace he had given his "savior" years ago.
"I made this for you," he had told Nadia when he gave it to her. "To honor your courage."
The teeth were yellowed with age, worn smooth by years of handling. On impulse, Lance lifted it to his nose.
The scent hit him like a physical blow—rain and vanilla, not roses.
Juliet's scent.
His wolf howled in anguish as the truth crashed through him. The necklace slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor as memories flooded back—a small silver-eyed wolf standing over him, blood matting her fur as she faced down the Rogue that had nearly killed him.
Not Nadia. Never Nadia.
"Juliet," he whispered, the name tearing from his throat as his world collapsed around him.
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