Chapter 1
There are mornings when the world feels too soft to be real—like if you breathe too deeply, it’ll dissolve in your hands.
This was one of those mornings.
The sun had just begun spilling gold over the edge of the treeline, catching on the tips of the pines like fire catching thread. Everything felt hazy and warm, like the forest was still half-asleep. The breeze hummed through the leaves, and the earth beneath my feet pulsed with the kind of stillness only wolves could hear. Magic, tucked beneath roots and wrapped around bark. It was always there—we just knew how to listen.
I stood on the front porch of the Alpha’s house—myhouse—barefoot and content, the wood warm beneath my soles. My eyes drifted over the clearing below. Warriors were already training by the eastern ridge, their movements sharp and practiced. A few Omegas were hanging linens, laughing at something I couldn’t hear. And someone—probably Elder Mirna—had just pulled honeycakes from the oven, because the sweet scent was winding its way toward me like it had a purpose.
Everything was so painfully, heart-achinglynormal. And I let myself have it. This moment. This breath. This morning.
Before everything falls apart.
“DWYYYYYN!”The peace shattered—just like that.
I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
A stampede of feet thundered behind me, followed by a blur of pastel nightgowns and tangled hair. The triplets—Liora, Fiora, and Viora—burst onto the porch like a pack of puppies who hadn’t yet figured out how stairs work.
Fiora crashed into my hip, clinging to my leg like a leech. “Viora stole my muffin!”
“I didn’t steal it!” Viora yelled, face flushed and wild-eyed. “I claimed it. By birthright. I was born first!”
“You were born three minutesbefore us,” Liora deadpanned, hands on her hips. “That’s not royalty, that’s indigestion.”
I tried not to laugh—but failed. “Okay, okay,” I said, prying Fiora off me gently and crouching to their level. “One: muffins can’t be stolen if they were left unattended. Two: birthright doesn’t apply to bakery goods. And three—” I looked at Liora. “Nice comeback.”
She smirked. “Thanks. I’m writing a book.”
“You’re eight.”
“And already smarter than half the wolves in this pack.”
She wasn’t wrong.
The door creaked behind us, and before I even turned, I felt his presence. Solid. Grounding. Like the moon’s gravity tugging on the tide of my soul.
“Girls,” rumbled my father’s voice.
Duskthorn. Alpha of Silverpine. Terror of the Southern Border. Big softie in dad mode.
“Shouldn’t you be at training?” he asked with that stern brow he always wore, the one that didn’t fool any of us.
Fiora straightened up immediately. “We were going, but Viora committedgrand theft muffinand we had to hold a trial.”
Duskthorn blinked. “I see.”
Viora raised her hand solemnly. “I plead the fifth.”
“She doesn’t even know what thatmeans,” Liora muttered.
I stood, brushing my hands off on my sleep shorts. “I’ll walk them over. Maybe threaten them with a muffin embargo.”
Duskthorn raised an eyebrow. “Harsh.”
“They respect baked goods more than authority.”
He chuckled low in his chest, stepping forward to ruffle my hair. “You’re too much like your mother sometimes.”
My heart did that thing again—twisted and floated all at once. I swallowed the ache.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said quietly.
His hand paused for a heartbeat longer on my head before he let it fall.
And for a second, I looked at him—not as my Alpha, not as the man who led hundreds of wolves—but just as my father. Tired lines around his eyes. Grey beginning to spider through his beard. Eyes like storm clouds that had seen too many wars, too much death, and somehow still managed to look at us with nothing but love.
I turned to the triplets, clapped my hands once, and said, “Let’s go, muffin thieves. The forest awaits.”
They whooped and ran down the steps, nearly tripping over themselves in the rush.
And for a moment—just a moment—I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, nothing would change.
