I dragged a hand over my face, exhaling hard. My rage still simmered, hot and raw, but beneath it churned confusion I couldn’t shake.
Why Sera?
Jack’s words replayed in my head, each one a needle stuck in my brain. She’s weak. Wolfless. Convenient.
It made no sense. If the rogues wanted leverage against Edward, why not target Ethan?
If I were their endgame, why not target Daniel?
They were the heirs, the symbol of our packs’ futures. Striking them would have sent a clearer, deadlier message.
But Sera? She had no wolf. No status. She barely belonged in Frostbane, and since our divorce, she didn’t belong in Nightfang either.
For years, I myself had dismissed her as nothing more than a shadow on the edge of my life. So why had they seen her as valuable enough to take?
I sank back against the cold wall, my jaw tight.
“She’s not worthless,” Gavin said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.
My head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “What are you saying?”
He met my gaze evenly. “If it were her connection to Edward or you, there are more valuable targets than her. I think we’ve underestimated her worth. If the rogues are targeting her, they see something we don’t.
Something we’ve refused to see.”
The words landed heavy, sharper than he knew.
Underestimated…
That was a phenomenon I was becoming achingly familiar with. I’d seen Sera as nothing more than an obligation I needed to fulfill.
I’d underestimated what she meant to me.
I wanted to deny it, to shove it away like I had for years. But the memory of Jack’s laughter, the way he had taunted me for my reaction, still clawed at my chest.
Sera. My weakness.
And for the first time, I realized how true it was.
SERAPHINA’S POV
Two days had passed since my last conversation with Kieran.
Two days since my preternatural encounter in the forest.
Two days since the storm inside me had ebbed, leaving me raw and hollow-adrift between the crushing silence where my wolf should have been and hope, that one day, that hollow would fill.
At first, I wanted nothing more than to shut the world out. To curl up in my room and let the ache swallow me whole.
To drown in my sorrow, convincing myself I had been a fool to believe-even for a heartbeat-that I could belong in a world that had spent so long pretending I didn’t exist.
But that spiral, that weakness pulling me toward despair, wasn’t why I had come here.
I remembered the old woman’s words-how pain blinded more than darkness, how patience would draw strength where doubt only smothered it.
I had made a vow when I joined the OTS. I wasn’t here for Kieran. Not even for Lucian.
I came for Daniel.
And for myself.
That memory-like a spark fanned to flame-burned through the fog of dejection, reminding me that strength was never born in a single moment.
It was in choosing, again and again, not to give up.
Strength wasn’t a straight line. It was bruises, failures, moments of humiliation, and standing up again anyway.
That night, as I sat cross-legged on my bed with my phone balanced on my knees and the screen illuminated
Daniel’s bright, eager face, my resolve strengthened.
His grin stretched wide, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Mom!” His voice was bubbling with energy, the way it always did when he couldn’t wait to share something with me. “You won’t believe what Grandpa started teaching me today!”
I laughed softly at his enthusiasm, adjusting the angle of the camera so he could see me better. “Oh? What’s got you so worked up?”
He leaned closer to the screen, his eyes glowing with the kind of joy that only sparkled in the innocent eyes of children. “Werewolf history! Grandpa said I’m old enough now to start learning about the legends. And, Mom-“
His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, though his excitement still shone through. “He told me the story of the Lone Wolf. Alcanor.”
I blinked, sitting up straighter. “Alcanor?”
I had heard scraps of Alcanor’s story before-half-whispered fragments that never formed the whole.
When we were children-when Celeste was still very little and I still had a voice in my family-Ethan and I used to bicker endlessly over whether Alcanor was a man or a woman.
Our mother had overheard once and, in her usual clipped way, told us not to waste time on “just a legend.”
But I remember the way her eyes lingered on me afterward, the faintest curve of her mouth when I held my ground.
And then she added: “But only a woman could have withstood such trials and still prevailed.”
And that quiet acknowledgment, subtle as it was, had been rare enough to burn itself into memory.
And maybe that’s why the name Alcanor always stayed with me, long after the argument ended.
Daniel nodded vigorously, his curly hair bouncing. “Yeah! He was incredible, Mom. Stronger than whole packs put together. He fought not just with claws, but with… with this kind of righteousness. Grandpa said nobody even knows if he was really a man or a woman. Some people think he wasn’t either, just that he wandered alone, without a pack, but wherever he went, he brought peace. He protected both wolves and humans when they were at risk. And guess what?”
His voice trembled with awe. “Grandpa said I could be like him someday.”
The screen blurred as tears pricked my eyes, unbidden. Daniel’s little face, so earnest, so certain-it was everything I had ever dreamed of for him. A future unchained from the shadows of my weakness, filled instead with light and purpose.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. “Did your Grandpa really say that?”
“Yes!” Daniel’s chest puffed with pride. “He said if I keep learning and if I work hard, by the time I’m ten, I might even start training with the pack. Isn’t that amazing?”
I smiled, though my fingers tightened on the edge of my phone. “That is amazing. I’m so proud of you, my love.”
A pang went through me. Pride and fear tangled in equal measure. My boy was growing so quickly, stepping into a destiny that carried weight beyond his years.
And I’d known it since he was very little. Daniel was clever, strong, he held an innate power that even I could sense.
I knew without a doubt that fate had great plans for my son.
And I…
Insecurity clawed its way up my throat before I could stop it.
“Daniel…” My voice softened. “Would you be…disappointed in me if I never got my wolf?”
His grin faltered. His little brows furrowed the way Kieran’s did when he was deep in thought.
Disappointed? Why would I be?”
I dropped my gaze, ashamed of my own weakness. “Because I’m not like other wolves. Because no matter how hard I train, I’ll always be missing a piece of myself. And if I’m missing it, maybe…maybe you’ll be missing something too.”
The silence stretched, heavy, until Daniel’s voice cut through-firm, steady, far older than his years.
“Mom, no.”
I looked back at the screen, startled. His eyes burned with conviction.
“I mean, yeah, I admire Alcanor. He’s like-wow, a real hero, right? But do you know what made him special?
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