Chapter 1 - Ashes and Rain
The rain hadn’t stopped since dawn.
It fell over the rows of black umbrellas, over the polished coffins sinking into the earth, and over Lucille Harper’s trembling hands. The scent of wet soil and lilies clung to the air, heavy and suffocating.
Her mother’s name blurred on the headstone through her tears. Elena Harper-Blackwood.
Beside it, another coffin waited — Elias Blackwood.
Two graves. One hole in her heart.
Lucille’s knuckles went white around the handle of her umbrella as the priest’s voice droned somewhere above the patter of rain. She couldn’t hear the words anymore. The world had narrowed to the sound of earth falling against wood and the hollow ache in her chest.
Across the grave, three figures stood like shadows carved from stone — Roman, Abel, and Julian Blackwood.
Her stepbrothers. Her strangers.
Roman’s jaw was tight, his dark suit soaked through but his eyes fixed ahead, unreadable. Abel’s hands were clenched at his sides, lips pressed in a line, while Julian stood a little apart from them, face hidden beneath dripping black curls. None of them looked at her.
They hadn’t said a word to her all morning.
A soft click of heels broke through the sound of the rain.
Lucille turned, and there she was.
Evelyn Blackwood.
The Luna. The late Marielle’s sister. The triplets’ aunt.
She was tall and elegant, her black coat pristine despite the mud, silver hair pinned beneath a veil. Her beauty was sharp as a blade, her presence colder than the rain.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Evelyn said, though her eyes — pale gray, wolf-bright — held no sympathy.
Lucille opened her mouth to thank her, but the Luna had already turned toward the graves.
Her gaze lingered on the coffins, then on Lucille, and her expression hardened. “Tragic,” she murmured. “How easily lives can be ruined when people forget their place.”
Lucille blinked. “I—I don’t understand.”
Evelyn’s lips curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “No, I don’t suppose you would. Your mother was… human, after all.”
She stepped closer, voice dropping low enough that only Lucille could hear.
“When Elias broke his mate bond to be with her, it broke something far greater than vows. My sister vanished soon after. Some say she ran. I say she was taken — by the curse your mother brought into this family.”
Lucille’s breath caught. “That’s not true—”
Evelyn straightened. “Truth has never cared what we believe.”
She turned to the priest. “Finish this quickly. The boys and I have a long drive ahead.”
Roman stepped forward at her command. “We’re leaving?”
Evelyn nodded. “The Alpha wants you home. All of you.” Her gaze cut to Lucille. “Including her.”
Lucille’s heart stumbled. Home?
She hadn’t been told about this. No one had.
“I can stay with my mother’s family,” she tried, her voice shaking. “They’re expecting—”
“They’re human,” Evelyn interrupted, her tone soft but edged with command. “You’re part of this pack now. You’ll live where I can keep an eye on you.”
Roman’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing. Abel gave Lucille a fleeting, apologetic look before turning away. Julian just stared at her — quiet, unreadable — as if he were seeing something she couldn’t.
Lucille looked down at the wet earth, at the flowers already drowning in the mud. “I don’t belong with you,” she whispered.
Evelyn’s hand came down on her shoulder, light but firm.
“Neither did your mother,” she said, and the chill in her voice could’ve frozen the rain midair.
The drive to the packhouse was silent.
Lucille sat pressed against the car door, watching raindrops chase each other down the glass as trees blurred past. The forest grew thicker, darker.
By the time the car rolled through wrought-iron gates, the world beyond the windows had changed — the air heavier, charged with something wild.
The packhouse wasn’t a house at all. It was a fortress of dark stone and pine, sprawling across the hilltop like it had grown from the earth itself. Wolves’ heads were carved into the pillars flanking the entrance, and the scent of cedar smoke curled from its chimneys.
Lucille’s stomach knotted.
Evelyn stepped out first, posture regal as ever. “Welcome to Blackwood Hall,” she said. “From now on, this is your home.”
Lucille hesitated at the threshold, feeling eyes on her — Roman’s hard, Abel’s uncertain, Julian’s quiet and assessing.
When she finally crossed into the house, the door closed behind her with a low, echoing thud.
And in that moment, with the sound of wolves howling faintly in the distance, Lucille knew her life as she’d known it was over.
