KIERAN’S POV
The Hunting Festival without Sera was like a feast with no food.
Everything was technically perfect—the banners strung high across the courtyard, the scent of roasted ga drifting from the long tables, the rhythmic beat of drums marking the start of the evening’s competitions—but sothing essential was missing.
Her.
I stood beneath the carved archway of Nightfang’s main grounds, chanically accepting greetings, clasping hands as guests approached, and nodding at praise that barely registered.
“Alpha Blackwood, the hunting grounds this year are remarkably well organized.”
“Nightfang always sets the standard,” another chid in.
Another Alpha clapped on the shoulder. “Strong turnout this year. It’s good to see stability.”
I smiled when required. I spoke when expected. I even laughed once or twice.
But Ashar was restless beneath my skin, his focus far from the festival grounds.
He was oriented northward—toward the packhouse. Toward the porch where Daniel had nearly knocked Sera off her feet earlier. Toward the dining table, where our son wanted to celebrate our reunion.
Ho.
It had been a long ti since I’d associated that word with sothing warm. Sothing beautiful.
Now it was tangible. Real.
And infuriatingly far away.
Another chip on my shoulder was Vidar’s noticeable absence.
The Shadow Claw representative had departed in suspicious haste at dawn, citing “urgent matters.”
My sentinels had picked up his trail before he crossed the outer periter and were now shadowing him.
If he was moving to consolidate anything after yesterday’s failed scandal, I intended to know about it.
Still, his early departure left a sour aftertaste.
n like Vidar only retreated to recalculate.
“Alpha Blackthorne.”
I turned at the smooth, asured voice.
Astrid Volker stood before , radiating polished control and elegance. Beneath the festival lantern light, her rings glimred.
“President Volker.”
The image of her dance with Sera flashed through my mind, and the only thing I could manage by way of a smile was a grimace.
If Astrid noticed, she didn’t comnt.
“We finalized the shipping agreent with your Beta earlier,” she said. “The revised tariffs will reflect in the next quarter.”
I inclined my head. “Efficient as always.”
“I try not to waste ti,” she replied. "I see what I want; I go for it."
There was sothing pointed in the phrasing.
“And,” she added smoothly, lowering her voice just enough to escape nearby ears, “I wanted to say congratulations.”
“For?” I asked, though the smugness on her face told everything.
Her lips curved. “I find that I prefer assets where the foundations are stable and united. Personal and political.”
I t her gaze evenly.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re rooting for us, I said dryly.”
“Alpha,” she said, almost amused, “I don’t root. I invest.”
A pause.
Then, softer—just enough to be genuine: "But yes. Feel free to call a fan.”
Before I could respond, she stepped back, bowed slightly, and was already pivoting to greet another delegation.
I stifled a groan. All that exchange did was make miss Sera even more.
My eyes swept the courtyard, looking for sothing to distract .
And landed on Corin.
He stood near the fountain, Seabreeze colors subtle but unmistakable in the gold and blue threads woven into the trim of his dark jacket. Lantern light caught in his sandy-brown hair, turning it almost gold at the edges.
Won hovered near him like moths to a fla.
He acknowledged them with polite detachnt, nothing more. A slight incline of his head. A courteous half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
One of Iron Hollow’s young mbers laughed too brightly at sothing he hadn’t actually said. Corin offered a polite nod and stepped aside, disengaging with surgical precision.
A second attempt ca from a minor pack’s heiress—this one bolder, hand lingering too long on his sleeve.
His gaze dropped to her hand, cool, impersonal. She withdrew first.
I should have found the spectacle amusing.
Instead, irritation flared.
It wasn’t jealousy. I didn’t care for any female attention other than Sera’s.
It was the simple, grinding awareness that he was here—close. Within Nightfang’s walls. Within Sera’s orbit.
Ethan had been right to host Corin at Frostbane.
Truce or not, I still didn’t trust him.
I’d sent investigators to look into Seabreeze. They had instructions to leave no stone unturned: their history, economy, politics. If there was even the tiniest crack, I wanted to know.
If Corin was indispensable against what was coming, fine.
But I would not be blindsided.
The drums signaled the start of the final archery demonstration, and applause rippled outward.
I forced myself to focus.
By the ti the moon had climbed to its peak and the last ceremonial toast had been delivered, my patience was threadbare.
As soon as the closing formalities concluded, I stepped down from the dais without lingering.
“Alpha, one more question about—”
“Tomorrow,” I cut in smoothly. “My family is waiting.”
I didn’t look back.
When the doors of the packhouse opened, warmth greeted —firelight, polished wood, the faint scent of lavender lingering.
“Where are Daniel and Sera?” I asked the nearest servant.
“Daniel is asleep, Alpha. And Lady Sera has retired to her guest suite.”
Guest suite.
The word grated.
I nodded and headed upstairs to the Alpha wing.
I stopped at Daniel’s room first, gently cracking the door open.
Inside, he was sprawled diagonally across the bed, blanket half-kicked off, one arm thrown dramatically over his head.
I stepped in quietly and adjusted the blanket.
He didn’t stir.
For a mont, I just stood there.
Earlier, when Sera had said we were together, his expression had shifted like sunrise breaking over a storm.
I didn’t think I’d ever seen joy that bright.
He’d held his emotions in check so well, I hadn’t realized how much our separation had affected him or how much he’d wished we’d get back together.
The thought tightened sothing in my chest.
I’d spent too long disappointing the people I loved. Never again.
I left him sleeping and headed down the hall.
The guest suite door was closed when I reached it, a thin line of light visible beneath the fra. I knocked out of habit and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.
“Fun fact,” I began, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind , “the master bedroom is actually a lot more comfor—”
The rest of the line dissolved on my tongue.
The room was dim, lit only by the soft amber of the bedside lamp and the colder, bluish glow of the laptop in front of Sera.
She was sitting upright against the headboard, knees drawn slightly inward, the sheets tangled around her waist as though she’d been there for hours without realizing it.
The glow from the screen cast faint light across the wall, but from where I stood, I couldn’t see what was playing.
She looked up at the intrusion.
And everything in went still.
Her eyes were swollen and glassy, and tears tracked openly down her cheeks.
For half a second, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. My mind refused to reconcile the image of her—my composed, steady, unshakeable Sera—with this level of raw devastation.
Then I moved.
“Sera.”
She inhaled sharply at the sound of her na, and before I could reach the edge of the bed, she had already thrown the covers aside. Her bare feet hit the floor, and she crossed the space between us in three unsteady steps before colliding with .
I caught her automatically, one arm bracing her back, the other coming up to cradle the back of her head.
Her arms wrapped around my torso so tightly it was almost painful, her fingers fisting into the back of my shirt as though the grip was the only thing keeping her from falling off a cliff.
Her face pressed into my chest as sobs ripped out of her.
“What happened?” My voice ca out hoarse and trembling.
She shook her head against , breath shuddering.
“I never imagined,” she choked, the words breaking apart between sobs, “I never imagined it would be him.”
User Comments
0 comments from readers