Wraith Peaks are encroaching again in broad daylight, where anyone could see them, human or otherwise. They’re pushing deeper and deeper, and every time they do, their intentions become abundantly clear.
But this is why I left home, trained, and pushed back, becoming the Alpha for as long as I could. This discipline can’t be learned in the woods without unbiased authority.
I knew the day would come when my pack and my mate would need a leader who could handle more than ceremony and tradition.
And if today is that day, then I’ll be ready.
Either way, nobody pushes into my territory without being warned. Nobody touches Lila, and nobody threatens what’s mine.
Chapter 17 - Lila
I felt Caleb reach down the bond, assuming he wanted to make sure I was still breathing after the harrowing, danger-filled journey through town to my client’s house.
Resisting the urge to follow my eyes at the thought, I had sent back a small reply. It was half-hearted at best, but enough to quell his concern.
He could hardly go an hour or two without looming, and while that should be heartwarming, I find it vaguely irritating. If he grants me the freedom to reclaim parts of my old life, then he can wait until I’m home again to question me or need any kind of update.
Part of the appeal of leaving the house is getting time away and being left with my work and thoughts. My own thoughts, unencumbered by his breaching my mind.
But now, Astrid’s small hand is in mine while we leave the cafe in the afternoon. Her mouth is still dusted with powdered sugar from the donut she enjoyed, and of course, it had to be the biggest, messiest one. It was something Caleb had shown her the last time we were there, and of course, she clung to it and had to do it again.
Still, it made her day, and I’m not willing to rain on her parade. Especially not when my day has gone better than expected.
I get back to work, catching up with my clients who were certainly curious about my abrupt disappearance, but after giving the best explanation I could without divulging the truth, the usual routine settled right back into place.
And now, I’m capping the day with some time away from the house with Astrid, who is more than happy to be out.
“Can we see the fountain?” she asks, already tugging me along by the hand down the sidewalk.
“Of course we can,” I say, smiling to myself at the innocent joy she seems to garner from the smallest of things. Of course, they don’t seem small at all to her, and it’s something I often admire about her.
Astrid bounds ahead, dark hair coming slightly loose from the ribboned pigtails I gave her earlier.
Warmth lingers in my chest at how pure her little world is, and with the reminder of how much our lives have changed in a matter of weeks, I cling to it.
But the moment we approach the small memorial park with garden beds and a fountain situated in the middle, I feel eyes on me. Attention is shifting toward me, even when those people pretend to look elsewhere.
A pair of older pack women glance at me from the entrance of a boutique, and they smile politely, but I catch the forced nature of them. Then, they mutter something to each other.
A younger male sits in his parked truck, giving me a nod that feels more like an assessment than a genuine greeting. Even one of the local mail carriers who has known me since I was a child gives me a strained expression before averting her gaze.
It’s all subtle and careful, given the human bystanders everywhere. But I feel it anyway.
Between judgment, disbelief, resentment, and sometimes reluctant acceptance, I’ve had to shoulder all of it.
They make me feel like I’ve somehow stolen a place at Caleb’s side from someone more deserving. Like I’m still the weak outcast I used to be, and one they all looked down on.
To them, I’m not their Luna. I’m just something to scrutinize.
My stomach twists, and I clam up from the heat of those stares.
Astrid hums to herself while she looks at the fountain, completely oblivious of anyone looking our way.
Immediately, the urge to take her away from it surges in me. I refuse to let anyone poison her outlook on the world. Swallowing back the urge to cower, I square my shoulders and remind myself of what truly matters.
My daughter.
“C’mon, honey,” I murmur, gently gripping her shoulder before attempting to guide her away. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
