Queen Of The Forgotten Wolves

Chapter four

Damien hesitated, as if caught in the jaws of his own guilt. His gaze lingered on me a second too long—too soft, too haunted—before he stepped forward and forced neutrality back into his features.

“Elara is like a sister to me,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “She’s the only wolf I could rely on after the war. That’s all this is. We’re... absolutely innocent.”

Innocent.

The word hung in the air like a cruel joke.

I said nothing.

Because if I opened my mouth, I might howl.

My silence made him shift uncomfortably. His amber eyes searched mine, growing increasingly uneasy with each second I didn’t speak.

But my mind had already left the present.

I was back in the storm of my first death—blood, lies, betrayal.

Elara had stood before the Council of Elders, tears glistening like dew on her lashes. She’d accused me of sabotaging the food stores during the famine, claiming Ayla and I had stolen mooncakes laced with wolfsbane.

She said we’d poisoned ourselves.

Damien hadn’t questioned it. Hadn’t blinked. He’d wrapped her in his arms, whispering comforts meant for a grieving mate.

From the shadowed veil of the spirit realm, I watched as he mourned the lie.

“She was a mistake,” he’d said. “If she had lived, I would’ve cast her out. Elara, you and your pups are my future. I won’t let her ghost threaten that.”

That was the moment I died.

Not from poison, but from the truth.

That was when Selene Stormfang ceased to exist.

Now, Elara stood in front of me again, swathed in ivory silk, her pregnant belly cradled like a trophy. She smiled, ever gentle. “Sister, you’ve traveled far. Come, let’s get you changed into something warm. The feast is still going.”

She reached for Ayla.

But Ayla flinched, darting behind my leg and clutching the worn hem of my tunic.

Damien crouched before her, a smile softening his face. “Little one... don’t you remember me?”

Ayla blinked up at him with wide, wary eyes. Her grip on my leg tightened, and her lower lip trembled.

“She was barely out of her swaddling cloth when you went away,” I said, voice cool. “And you never returned. So no—she doesn’t remember the wolf who abandoned her.”

Despite the dirt and hunger, Ayla had grown beautifully—her wolf emerging with quiet strength. In the firelight, her eyes shimmered like stormlit skies, just like mine. A cub forged from ruin.

Damien gathered her into his arms with a father’s ease, coaxing her gently. “Ayla, it’s me. I’m your father. Say it—Daddy.”

But she only stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line, pulling on my tunic like she was begging me to save her.

He tried again, voice dipping into softness. For a moment, I almost saw the wolf I once loved.

Then she remained silent. And his patience cracked.

His voice sharpened. “Selene, now that you’re here, when are you planning to return?”

My brow lifted. “Return? To the cave in the eastern pass? The one you called a ‘safehouse’? The one that flooded when the river swelled and nearly drowned us both?”

He flinched.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “I was waiting for the right time. The manor is crowded. Diplomats. Warriors. There’s no room right now. Once the east wing is repaired, I’ll—”

“No.”

My voice turned to frost. “You think I’ll let you stash us away again? Hide us like a scandal? Ayla and I lived on scraps and rainwater. We chewed bark. Slept in trees. If not for a wandering rogue with herbs and mercy, we’d be bones by now.”

“This Pack has dozens of halls, Damien. Hundreds of beds. But no space for your mate and daughter?”

I saw it now—how blind I had been.

I had loved him. Trusted him. Denied the blood in my veins to be his Luna.

And he had let me rot in the wild.

“Five years,” I said softly. “Five years of silence. Of empty letters and promises that never arrived. No food. No coin. Not a whisper of your voice.”

Damien’s brow creased. “That’s not true. I sent silver. One hundred moons every month. Through the courier wolves.”

My heart stopped cold.

“When?” I asked. “Every month?”

He nodded, brows drawn tight. “Since the day I left. Without fail.”

His eyes shifted. Cut to Elara.

And there it was.

Her smile didn’t falter.

But her hand—resting over her belly—tightened.

The truth was written in the stiffness of her spine.

I saw it.

And so did he.