My Alpha Used My Blood to Crown His Luna

The rain fell in sheets, soaking through my clothes as I watched from the shadows. One year had passed since I'd burned away Eva Dunn and risen as someone new. One year since I'd watched Dante Ross cradle a stranger's charred remains and howl my name into the night.

The Shadow Ridge Pack was crumbling.

I shouldn't have returned. Shouldn't have risked everything to see what became of the man who broke me. But some wounds never heal, and some bonds—even broken ones—pull you back like gravity.

"What happened to him?" I whispered to myself, watching Dante emerge from the rebuilt cabin.

He was a ghost of the Alpha who once commanded respect with a single glance. His clothes hung loose on his frame, unwashed and torn. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his once-immaculate beard now reached his chest in wild disarray.

"Alpha," a young Delta approached cautiously, clutching a stack of papers. "The northern border reports are ready for your review. Three more rogues were spotted near the river."

Dante didn't acknowledge him. His eyes remained fixed on the cabin door as he stepped inside.

The Delta looked helplessly at Marcus Chen, who merely shook his head. "Leave them on my desk," Marcus said quietly. "I'll handle it."

I followed Dante's path into the cabin—or what I could see of it through the windows. The exterior matched the original structure, but inside had been transformed into something else entirely.

A shrine.

My shrine.

Dozens of canvases covered every wall, each bearing my face—or attempts at it. Some showed my profile, others my eyes, others my hands. None captured me correctly.

"Again!" Dante's voice echoed through the cabin as he slashed another canvas from its frame. "Her eyes weren't like that! They were... they were..."

The artist cowered in the corner, paints scattered at his feet. "I've tried, Alpha. I can't—"

"Get out!" Dante roared, his Alpha tone making the man's knees buckle. "Get out and don't return until you can see her properly!"

I pressed myself against the building as the artist fled past me, trembling.

Inside, Dante sank to his knees amid the ruined portraits. He clutched a charred locket in his palm—my mother's locket that had fused to the rogue's bones in the fire.

"Eva," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Where are you? Why can't I find you?"

A door opened somewhere inside the cabin. Amaya appeared, her figure silhouetted against the hallway light. She wore a silk robe that clung to her curves, her hair artfully tousled.

"Dante," she purred, approaching him with calculated grace. "Let me help you forget, just for tonight."

She reached for him, her fingers trailing down his chest. I expected him to pull away—he always had before—but this time he grabbed her wrist with such force that she gasped.

"You're not her," he snarled, his eyes flashing amber. "You'll never be her."

Amaya's face contorted with rage and humiliation as he released her with a shove. "She's dead!" she hissed. "Dead and gone! What kind of Luna am I when my Alpha mourns a corpse?"

"The only kind that matters," Dante replied coldly. "The kind that stays out of my way."

---

Three years later, sunlight streamed through gauzy curtains, painting golden patterns across silk sheets. I stretched lazily, feeling my wolf stir contentedly within me.

*Lylah,* she whispered in my mind. *Morning.*

*Good morning, Silver,* I replied, reaching out to touch the bond that had once been severed.

The door opened quietly as Kenzo entered, carrying a tray with two steaming cups of coffee. His dark hair was still damp from his morning shower, and his smile—that same smile that had saved me when I was at my lowest—lit up his entire face.

"Bonjour, ma reine," he said, setting the tray on the nightstand. "Coffee for the most beautiful Lycan Queen in all the territories."

I laughed, accepting the cup he offered. "Flatterer."

"Truth-teller," he corrected gently, sitting beside me on the bed. His fingers traced the silver crescent moon pendant at my throat—the one containing a drop of my original wolf's essence.

"The Summit preparations are nearly complete," Kenzo said, his tone shifting to business. "We leave for New York in three days."

My hand stilled on the coffee cup. "New York."

"The Global Alpha Summit," he reminded me. "All packs will be represented."

Including Shadow Ridge.

"Dante will be there," I whispered.

Kenzo's hand covered mine, warm and steady. "You are not Eva anymore," he said firmly. "You are Lylah Rodriguez, Lycan Queen of the Parisian Crescent Pack. Your aura alone will make him bow."

"But—"

"No buts," Kenzo interrupted, his eyes softening. "You've built a new life. You have me, you have Isabella. Your past cannot hurt you unless you let it."

A small sound from the doorway made us both turn. Isabella stood there, her golden eye and silver eye blinking sleepily, her tiny fingers clutching a wooden wolf carving.

"Maman," she called, toddling toward me. "Papa says it's time for breakfast."

I opened my arms as she climbed onto the bed, her giggles filling the room as Kenzo tickled her ribs.

"See?" Kenzo whispered against my hair as we watched our daughter play. "This is your true strength."

As Isabella's laughter echoed through our bedroom, I wondered if Dante would recognize the sound of happiness in the voice of the woman he thought he'd lost forever.