Rain hammered the kingdom like a thousand tiny fists.
Jordan Blackwood barely noticed.
His boots sank into the mud as he stared at the small cottage standing alone at the edge of the forest.
A servant’s cottage.
Nothing about it should have interested the alpha king.
Yet his wolf had been restless all day, growling, refusing to settle.
It had started that morning when LRA failed to report for duty again.
the future.
Luna had immediately seized the opportunity.
She’s probably hiding somewhere.
Selene had scoffed.
That girl has always been lazy.
Lazy? Jordan’s jaw tightened.
No one worked harder than LRA.
For years, she had served the royal household without complaint.
Never late, never rude, never asking for anything.
Yet Selene hated her obsessively.
The hatred never made sense.
And for some reason, neither did Lyra.
Whenever Jordan looked at her, his wolf stirred, not with desire, not even curiosity, recognition, as though it knew something his mind did not.
A sharp gust of wind slammed into him.
His wolf growled hard.
Jordan looked up.
The cottage door stood slightly open.
His eyes narrowed.
Something felt wrong.
very wrong.
He climbed the small wooden steps.
Lyra, nothing.
Only rain.
His wolf snarled.
Jordan pushed the door wider.
The scent hit him first.
Blood.
Fresh blood.
His entire body went rigid.
The room was chaos.
A chair lay shattered against the wall.
A table had been overturned.
Broken dishes littered the floor.
Blood stained the wooden boards.
A lot of blood.
Jordan’s wolf exploded inside him.
Danger, danger, danger.
His pulse thundered.
Lyra.
He rushed deeper into the cottage.
Then he saw her.
A small form crumpled beside the fireplace.
For a second, the world stopped.
Lyra.
Her dark hair was tangled with blood.
Bruises covered her face.
Her dress was torn.
One arm hung at an unnatural angle.
She looked as though someone had beaten her and left her to die.
A sound ripped from Jordan’s throat.
Not quite human, not quite wolf.
Rage flooded his veins.
His eyes flashed green.
Alpha power burst through the room.
The windows rattled.
The walls trembled.
Who had done this? Who had dared? Jordan dropped beside her.
His hands shook as he searched for a pulse.
There, weak.
Far too weak.
Relief crashed into him so hard he almost swore aloud.
Alive.
She was still alive.
Lyra.
His voice came out rough.
Her eyelids fluttered.
Nothing more.
Jordan carefully lifted her into his arms.
She felt frighteningly light.
Then a sound.
soft, tiny, a sniffle.
Jordan froze.
His wolf froze.
The sound came again.
A child somewhere inside the cottage.
Jordan slowly turned.
Another sniffle followed by a frightened whimper.
His gaze landed on an old storage cupboard pushed against the far wall.
The door was shut, locked.
The scent of fear poured from it.
Jordan crossed the room.
The closer he got, the faster his heart pounded.
Something about this felt impossible.
The lock broke instantly beneath his strength.
The cupboard door swung open.
Silence.
Then two enormous green eyes stared back at him.
Jordan forgot how to breathe.
A little boy sat curled inside, no older than five or six.
Tears streaked his cheeks.
His small body trembled.
But Jordan barely noticed because he was staring at the child’s face, the same midnight black hair, the same green eyes, the same dimples, the same jawline, the same impossible.
The boy looked exactly like him.
Jordan felt the world tilt beneath his feet.
The child’s lip trembled.
His frightened gaze shifted toward Lyra’s unconscious body.
then back to Jordan.
And in a tiny broken voice, he whispered, “Where’s Mama?” The journey back to the palace passed in a blur of rain and thunder.
Jordan rode at impossible speed.
Lyra lay unconscious in his arms.
The little boy sat pressed against her side, clutching her torn sleeve with both hands.
Not once did he let go.
Not once did he stop watching Jordan.
Every time their eyes met, the child looked away.
Fear, distrust, suspicion.
The look twisted something inside Jordan’s chest.
His wolf hated it.
The palace gates burst open the moment they arrived.
Guards rushed forward.
Servants froze.
Gasps echoed through the courtyard.
Everyone knew Lyra.
Everyone knew the quiet maid who kept her head down and never caused trouble.
No one had ever seen her like this.
Covered in blood, broken, barely breathing.
Jordan carried her straight into the royal healing wing.
Move.
The single word sent healers scrambling.
Within moments, Lyra was placed on a bed.
Several healers surrounded her.
The little boy immediately tried climbing after her.
A healer gently stopped him.
The child panicked.
“No!” His small voice cracked.
Mama.
He kicked, struggled, fought.
Jordan watched in silence.
The boy wasn’t throwing a tantrum.
He was terrified.
Absolutely terrified.
As though letting go of her for even a second might mean losing her forever.
Something about that thought made Jordan’s wolf pace violently.
The child finally broke free and ran to the bedside.
He grabbed Lyra’s hand with both of his.
Only then did he calm down.
Only then did the fear ease from his scent.
Jordan stood several feet away, watching, studying, trying to understand.
The resemblance was impossible.
Every time the boy turned his head, Jordan saw himself.
The same eyes, the same dark hair, the same stubborn set of the jaw, even the dimples.
Moon goddess, even the dimples.
A healer approached carefully.
Your majesty.
Jordan barely heard him.
His attention remained fixed on the child.
Your majesty.
Jordan blinked.
What? The elderly healer hesitated.
His gaze drifted toward the little boy, then back to Jordan.
Then back to the little boy again.
Jordan already knew what he was thinking.
The entire room was thinking it.
The resemblance was too obvious, too terrifying, too impossible.
The healer finally cleared his throat.
Forgive me for asking.
Jordan’s jaw tightened.
Whose child is this? Silence fell.
The room froze.
Even the healers stopped moving.
Everyone waited.
Jordan looked at the boy.
The boy looked at Lyra.
Neither spoke.
A strange pressure built inside Jordan’s chest because for the first time in years, he wanted an answer.
He wanted one desperately.
Yet, he had none.
I don’t know.
The words sounded hollow, even to him.
The healer looked unconvinced.
Jordan couldn’t blame him.
He wasn’t convinced either.
A soft whimper pulled his attention back to the bed.
The little boy had curled himself against Lyra’s side.
His tiny fingers remained locked around hers as if afraid she might disappear.
Jordan took a step closer.
The child immediately stiffened.
A low growl escaped him.
Tiny, weak, yet unmistakably wolf.
The room went silent again.
Jordan stared.
The boy stared back.
Green eyes meeting green eyes.
For one brief moment, something flickered.
A feeling sharp, sudden fear.
Not Jordan’s fear.
The boys.
The sensation vanished so quickly.
Jordan almost thought he imagined it, but his wolf surged forward, alert, focused, interested.
Only blood relatives could accidentally form that kind of emotional connection.
Jordan’s heartbeat thundered.
Impossible.
His gaze snapped back toward the child.
The boy had gone pale, his small body trembling as though he felt it, too.
Jordan opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, the doors burst open.
A familiar voice echoed through the healing wing.
Jordan.
The future Luna.
Seline.
The room remained silent long after Seline entered.
Jordan couldn’t explain why.
The future.
Luna looked exactly as she always did.
Beautiful, elegant, perfectly composed.
Yet something felt off.
His wolf sensed it, too.
Danger.
The warning echoed through his mind.
Jordan frowned.
His wolf had never reacted to Seline like this before.
Never.
Not once.
Yet now it refused to stop growling.
Seline ignored it.
Or perhaps she was trying very hard to.
Her attention remained fixed on the little boy.
The child instantly buried himself against Lyra’s side.
His small fingers clutched the blanket.
His eyes wide.
Fearful.
Jordan noticed.
The boy hadn’t reacted that way to the healers or the guards or even him.
Only Seline.
Interesting.
A strange expression flickered across Seline’s face before disappearing.
Too fast for anyone else to catch, but Jordan caught it, and his wolf certainly did.
Fear, not annoyance, not jealousy.
Fear? What happened? Seline asked softly.
Jordan crossed his arms.
I found Lyra in her cottage.
Seline’s throat bobbed.
In her cottage, beaten nearly to death.
For the briefest moment, her face lost color.
Jordan narrowed his eyes.
Why would that upset her? Surely, she hadn’t expected the servant to be found in such a condition.
Yet, something about her reaction felt wrong.
Very wrong.
Then her gaze drifted toward the child again.
The little boy immediately looked away.
Jordan felt another growl rumble through his chest.
Seline stepped closer.
Too close.
The child pressed himself tighter against Lyra.
His fear rolled through the room like a scent.
Jordan felt it.
Then for a split second, he felt it inside his own chest.
The same fear, the same panic, the same instinct to run.
The sensation vanished as quickly as it came.
Jordan froze.
His wolf went still.
Bloodline.
The thought flashed through his mind before he could stop it.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible, Jordan.
Seline’s voice pulled him back.
What? She smiled.
Too quickly, too brightly, as though covering something.
Then she lowered her voice.
Did the child say anything? Jordan stared at her.
Not.
Is he all right? Not.
Who is he? Not.
Will Lyra survive? No.
Her first concern was whether the child had spoken.
A cold feeling settled in Jordan’s stomach.
No.
Seline visibly relaxed.
The reaction lasted less than a second.
But Jordan saw it.
Every single bit of it.
And now he couldn’t stop wondering why.
Before he could question her further, another voice echoed through the healing wing.
Jordan.
The room immediately straightened.
Servants bowed.
Guards stepped aside.
The queen mother had arrived.
Queen Evelyn Blackwood, Jordan’s mother, the most respected woman in the kingdom, she entered with her usual grace.
Silver hair, regal posture, cold intelligence.
Yet the moment she noticed the child, she stopped walking only for a heartbeat.
But she stopped.
Jordan’s eyes narrowed.
His mother never lost composure ever.
The queen recovered instantly.
What is all this commotion? Jordan watched carefully.
Too carefully.
Lyra was attacked.
His mother’s gaze flicked toward the unconscious maid, then toward the child, then back again.
Calculating, measuring, thinking.
A strange tension filled the room.
Jordan felt as though everyone knew something except him.
His mother approached the bed.
The little boy immediately shrank away.
The same reaction he had given Selene.
Jordan’s wolf snarled.
The queen mother paused.
Something unreadable crossed her face.
Then she smiled.
The smile never reached her eyes.
Poor child.
Jordan suddenly remembered something.
A memory.
Small, insignificant, or perhaps not.
six years ago.
The poisoning, the palace chaos, the missing week.
His mother’s insistence that he rest, that he recover, that he avoid stress.
The memory vanished before he could grasp it, leaving only a headache behind.
Jordan pressed his fingers against his temple.
His wolf paced restlessly.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
Then one of the healers rushed forward.
Your majesty.
Jordan looked up.
The healer seemed nervous.
Unusually nervous.
What is it? The older man swallowed.
We finished examining Lady Lyra.
Jordan’s stomach tightened.
And the healer hesitated.
His gaze shifted toward the child.
Then toward Seline, then toward the queen, almost as though he feared the answer.
Finally, he spoke.
The injuries weren’t caused by rogues.
Silence.
Jordan felt the entire room freeze.
What do you mean? The healer took a shaky breath.
She was tortured.
The word landed like a blade.
Jordan’s eyes darkened.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Much colder.
And across the room, hidden behind carefully crafted masks, Selene and the Queen Mother exchanged the quickest glance imaginable.
Most people would have missed it.
Jordan didn’t.
His wolf didn’t.
And for the first time that night, Jordan began to suspect that Lyra’s attack wasn’t random at all.
Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows.
The storm had finally passed.
Silence filled the guest wing Jordan had personally assigned to Lyra.
It was one of the safest places in the palace.
Guards stood outside.
Healers came and went.
No one entered without Jordan’s permission.
After what happened at the cottage, he wasn’t taking chances.
Not with Lyra.
Not with the child.
Especially not with the child.
Jordan stood beside the bed, watching, waiting.
For the first time in years, he had barely slept.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood, the bruises, the broken cottage, and those green eyes staring up at him from the cupboard.
The resemblance still haunted him.
A small movement drew his attention.
Lyra’s fingers twitched.
Jordan straightened instantly.
The healers looked up slowly, very slowly.
Her eyes opened.
For a moment, she seemed confused, disoriented, lost.
Then panic exploded across her face.
Cordell.
Her voice came out rough, broken.
She tried sitting up.
Pain immediately shot through her body.
A healer rushed forward.
My lady Cordell.
The desperation in her voice, silenced everyone.
Jordan glanced toward the small couch near the fireplace.
The little boy was asleep, curled beneath a blanket, one tiny hand still clutching the stuffed wolf toy a servant had given him during the night.
He’s here.
Jordan’s voice came out softer than intended.
Lyra followed his gaze.
The moment she saw her son, everything changed.
Relief flooded her face.
Her shoulders sagged.
Tears gathered in her eyes.
For several seconds, she simply stared at him as though reassuring herself he was real, alive, safe.
Only then did she finally breathe.
Jordan felt something strange inside his chest, something warm.
Watching her look at Cordell felt important.
He couldn’t explain why.
The feeling vanished when she noticed where she was.
Her eyes swept across the luxurious room, the expensive furniture, the royal crest above the fireplace.
Then they landed on him.
Jordan gave a small nod.
You’re safe.
The words sounded reasonable enough.
Instead, something cold entered her gaze.
Something that made his wolf uneasy.
You’ve been unconscious for nearly a day, Jordan continued.
the healers.
He stopped because she wasn’t listening.
She was staring at him.
Not with fear, not with gratitude, not even with anger.
Hatred.
Pure hatred.
The kind that took years to build.
Jordan suddenly felt uncomfortable.
A ridiculous reaction.
He was the alpha king.
Entire armies feared him.
Yet one look from a wounded maid made something tighten painfully inside his chest.
He ignored it.
You need rest.
Her jaw clenched.
Jordan stepped closer instinctively without thinking.
He reached toward her arm.
The reaction was immediate, violent.
Don’t touch me.
The words cracked through the room like a whip.
Everyone froze.
The healers, the servants, even the guards outside seemed to go silent.
Lyra jerked away so quickly she nearly reopened her wounds.
Hatred blazed in her eyes.
Raw, burning, years old.
Jordan stared.
Shock rooted him in place.
Because that hatred wasn’t directed at an alpha king.
It wasn’t directed at her employer.
It was personal.
deeply personal, as though he had destroyed something precious, as though he had broken her.
The thought made no sense.
Jordan had barely spoken to Lyra over the years.
He couldn’t remember ever hurting her, yet her eyes said otherwise.
His wolf whimpered, actually whimpered.
The sound stunned him.
Wolves did not react like this.
Not to servants, not to strangers, not to women they didn’t care about.
Jordan felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest.
Gone as quickly as it came, but strong enough to leave him breathless.
For one horrifying second, he felt guilty.
Guilty for something he couldn’t remember doing.
Lyra looked away.
As though merely seeing him disgusted her.
That hurt more than it should have.
Far more.
A sleepy voice suddenly broke the tension.
Mama Cordell.
The little boy sat up, rubbing his eyes.
The second he saw Lyra awake, he launched himself from the couch.
Mama.
He practically flew across the room.
Lyra caught him despite her injuries, wrapping both arms around him.
Holding him so tightly, Jordan wondered if she’d ever let go again.
Cordell buried his face against her neck.
I thought you left me.
His tiny voice broke.
Jordan saw tears immediately fill Lyra’s eyes.
I’ll never leave you.
The promise came without hesitation, without thought, as though she had made it a thousand times before.
Jordan looked away.
Something about that moment felt private, sacred.
The bond between them was impossible to ignore.
Then Cordell lifted his head.
His gaze landed on Jordan.
The room fell silent again.
The little boy immediately tightened his grip on Lyra.
Protective, wary, Lyra noticed.
Slowly, her own gaze lifted toward Jordan.
The hatred returned, stronger than before.
Jordan felt that same sharp pain in his chest.
His wolf paced restlessly, confused, agitated, hurting.
Why? Why did her hatred feel unbearable? Why did seeing her pull away feel wrong? And why? Why did it feel like he had lost something long before he ever found it? Across the room, Lyra lowered her face into Cordell’s hair, hiding the tears gathering in her eyes.
Because the last person she had ever expected to save her was the Jordan.
For the next 3 days, Jordan found himself returning to Lyra’s wing far more often than necessary.
At first, he told himself it was because of the attack.
Someone had nearly killed a servant working under royal protection.
That alone demanded answers.
Yet, deep down, Jordan knew he was lying.
The truth was far more troubling.
He kept coming back because of the boy.
Cordell.
The child fascinated him, confused him, haunted him.
The resemblance was impossible to ignore.
every smile, every expression, every stubborn little frown.
It was like looking into a younger version of himself, and his wolf refused to shut up about it.
Mine? The word echoed constantly.
Jordan hated it because it made no sense.
Yet, every day it grew harder to ignore.
Today, he found Cordell sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the fireplace.
Wooden wolves were scattered around him.
The little boy was completely focused on arranging them into neat rows.
Jordan stopped in the doorway.
Cordell immediately noticed him.
The smile vanished.
His shoulders stiffened.
Jordan fought the urge to sigh.
The child still didn’t trust him.
“Good afternoon,” Cordell mumbled something.
Jordan wasn’t entirely sure it counted as a greeting.
The alpha sat in the chair opposite him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just cautious, careful.
Jordan finally picked up one of the wooden wolves.
What’s this one? Cordell glanced up.
That’s the alpha.
Jordan raised an eyebrow.
The alpha.
The boy nodded, then pointed toward the smallest wolf.
That’s Mama.
Jordan frowned.
Mama’s the smallest.
Cordell looked horrified.
No.
He immediately switched them.
She’s the strongest.
Jordan almost smiled.
Almost.
The boy returned to arranging his wolves.
Jordan studied him quietly, then asked the question that had been bothering him for days.
Does your mother always have nightmares? The child’s hands stopped moving.
For a second, Jordan thought he wouldn’t answer.
Then, sometimes Jordan waited.
Cordell kept his eyes on the toys.
Sometimes she wakes up crying.
Something twisted inside Jordan’s chest.
The boy continued.
Sometimes she thinks I’m asleep.
Jordan felt strangely uneasy.
What does she cry about? Cordell shrugged.
I don’t know.
Then he paused.
His little face scrunched up, thinking.
Maybe the same person she waits for.
Jordan’s heart skipped.
Waits for? What do you mean? Cordell pointed toward the window.
The road.
Jordan frowned.
The road.
The boy nodded.
Every night.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Every night.
Another nod.
Jordan’s stomach tightened.
Why? Cordell picked up one of the wolves, turning it in his hands.
Mama says she’s not waiting.
His voice softened.
But she always looks.
Jordan stared.
The child wasn’t trying to be dramatic.
He wasn’t telling a story.
He was simply stating facts.
Facts that made absolutely no sense.
Who was she waiting for? Cordell shrugged.
I don’t know.
Then he looked up.
Green eyes meeting.
Green eyes.
I think she was waiting for somebody who forgot her.
The words landed like a punch.
Jordan froze.
Forgot her.
Something about that sentence felt important.
Painfully important.
A strange headache began forming behind his eyes.
Rain.
A forest.
A woman’s laugh.
The images flashed through his mind and vanished before he could catch them.
Jordan pressed his fingers against his temple.
The headache disappeared, leaving only frustration behind.
Before he could ask another question, the door suddenly opened.
Seline entered without knocking.
Jordan immediately noticed her expression.
She was furious.
Not openly, not enough for anyone else to notice, but he knew her well enough.
The tight smile, the rigid shoulders, the eyes fixed on Cordell.
She hated being here.
She hated this room, and she hated the attention Jordan had been giving its occupants.
My love.
Seline crossed the room gracefully.
Jordan stood automatically, the way he always had, but for some reason today it felt forced.
Seline.
Her eyes flicked toward Cordell.
The little boy instantly moved closer to the fireplace, creating distance.
Jordan noticed again.
Selene noticed Jordan noticing, which only made her smile tighten further.
We need to discuss the mating ceremony.
Jordan sighed.
We can discuss it later.
No.
The word came too quickly, too sharply.
Even Seline seemed surprised by it.
An awkward silence followed.
Then she lowered her voice.
You’ve spent nearly every day in this wing.
Jordan crossed his arms.
“So?” Selene laughed.
A cold laugh.
“So?” Her gaze slid toward Cordell, then toward Lyra’s closed bedroom door.
You have an entire kingdom to rule.
Jordan remained silent.
You have a mating ceremony in one month.
Still silence.
And yet you’ve become completely distracted by a dirty servant and her child.
The words echoed through the room.
Jordan’s expression hardened immediately.
Even Cordell looked up, eyes wide.
Selene realized her mistake, but it was too late.
Jordan’s wolf growled loudly, dangerously.
For the second time in days, at her.
The sound shocked even him.
Seline took a small step back.
Fear flashed across her face, gone almost instantly.
But Jordan saw it again.
Always fear.
Never jealousy.
Never annoyance.
Fear.
Why? She’s not a dirty servant.
The words left Jordan’s mouth before he could stop them.
Silence followed.
Seline stared at him.
Jordan stared back.
Neither moved.
Then Seline asked the question she’d clearly been holding back for days.
Why do you care so much? The room went still.
Jordan opened his mouth.
No answer came.
Because the truth was he didn’t know.
He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop thinking about Lyra.
Why her tears bothered him.
Why her hatred hurt him.
Why Cordell felt strangely familiar.
or why every instinct inside him screamed that something important had been stolen from him.
And for the first time since finding that broken cottage, Jordan realized he intended to find out.
Jordan stopped sleeping.
Every time he closed his eyes, the dreams returned.
Fragments, pieces, ghosts of memories that refuse to fit together.
A woman’s laughter.
Soft, beautiful, familiar.
Rain falling on a cottage roof.
A pair of hands resting in his.
A moonlit forest glowing silver beneath a full moon.
Then darkness, always darkness.
Jordan shot upright in bed, breathing hard.
The dream dissolved immediately, leaving frustration behind.
Again, the same dream.
The same pieces, the same feeling that something important was just beyond his reach.
His wolf paced restlessly inside him, agitated, unhappy, missing something or someone.
Jordan rubbed a hand over his face.
Outside his windows, dawn was breaking.
The palace was waking, but Jordan’s thoughts were already elsewhere.
Lyra again, always Lyra.
Later that afternoon, Jordan found himself standing outside her wing.
He hadn’t planned to come.
At least that was what he told himself.
Yet somehow his feet kept bringing him here.
The guards bowed immediately.
Jordan entered.
The sitting room was empty.
For a moment, he thought she might be resting.
Then he heard a small laugh.
His chest tightened.
The sound came from the balcony.
Jordan followed it.
Lyra sat in a chair wrapped in a blanket.
Cordell sat at her feet.
The little boy was showing her something he’d drawn.
A wolf.
An extremely crooked wolf.
Jordan almost smiled.
Almost.
Lyra looked healthier than she had days ago.
The bruises remained, but some color had returned to her face.
The sight should have relieved him.
Instead, it made him angry.
Someone had done that to her.
Someone had left her bleeding on the floor, and he still didn’t know who.
Cordell noticed him first.
The smile vanished immediately.
Jordan tried not to take it personally.
Failed.
Lyra looked up.
The warmth disappeared from her face, too.
Just like that, as though someone had blown out a candle.
Jordan hated that for reasons he couldn’t explain.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Amazing.
” The sarcasm was sharp enough to cut steel.
Jordan ignored it.
You should still be resting.
Lyra looked away.
Toward the distant road beyond the palace walls, the same road leading out of the kingdom.
Jordan noticed because she had done it three times already.
Always looking, always searching.
For what? Or for who? The question lingered.
You’re recovering quickly.
No answer.
Jordan’s patience began wearing thin, not because she was rude, because she wouldn’t talk to him.
Every answer felt carefully chosen.
Every conversation ended before it began.
It was like speaking to someone who had already decided he wasn’t worth listening to.
The realization bothered him more than it should.
Jordan should have been working.
The reports covering his desk were important.
The investigation was accelerating.
Witnesses were being found.
Records were being uncovered.
The truth was getting closer.
Yet none of it held his attention.
Not when his mind kept returning to one thing.
A kiss.
A stupid, confusing, infuriating kiss.
Jordan leaned back in his chair.
Closing his eyes.
He could still feel it, the brief brush of Lyra’s lips against his cheek.
It hadn’t felt romantic or affectionate.
If anything, it had felt desperate, like a performance, a distraction, a warning.
His wolf paced restlessly, unsatisfied, Jordan groaned.
He was losing his mind.
A knock sounded at his door.
Enter.
The door opened.
Jordan immediately sat up.
Lyra and Cordell.
The little boy brightened when he saw him.
Jordan hated how much that pleased him.
Lyra remained expressionless, cold, distant.
Jordan suddenly found himself standing without realizing he’d moved.
“Is something wrong?” Lyra clasped her hands together.
“We’re leaving.
” The words landed like a punch.
Jordan blinked.
What? We’re returning home.
No.
The answer came instantly without thought.
Without hesitation, Lyra’s eyes narrowed.
Jordan ignored it.
It’s not safe.
It is my home.
Someone tried to kill you.
And Jordan stared.
And was she serious? Lyra, my cottage is all I have.
It is being repaired.
The words came sharper than intended.
Jordan took a breath, forced himself to calm down.
We’re close.
Close to what? Finding whoever did this.
The room went quiet.
Lyra looked away.
Jordan noticed her jaw tighten as though she was fighting something.
anger, pain, both.
Before he could ask, she crouched beside Cordell.
Her voice immediately softened.
Cordell.
The little boy looked up.
Yes, mama.
Would you go play outside for a little while? Cordell looked between them, clearly sensing something.
Children always did.
Okay.
He smiled, a bright little smile, one that carried Jordan’s dimples.
The sight hit Jordan harder than it should have.
The boy waved, then disappeared through the door, leaving silence behind, a dangerous silence.
Jordan suddenly became very aware that he was alone with Lyra and that she looked furious.
He opened his mouth.
Lyra, I crack.
The slap echoed through the study.
Jordan’s head snapped sideways.
Silence followed.
Absolute silence.
Neither moved.
Neither breathed.
Jordan slowly looked back at her.
Shock flooded his face.
Not because she had slapped him.
Nobody in the kingdom would dare.
Not because she had struck an alpha.
Not even because she had struck a king.
No, the shock came from seeing tears in her eyes.
Tears she refused to let fall.
Lyra stepped closer.
Close enough that he could see every crack in her composure.
Every sleepless night, every ounce of pain.
I’m done.
Her voice trembled.
Not from fear, from heartbreak.
Jordan frowned.
What? I’m done playing this game.
The words hit him like stones.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
You.
She pointed at him.
Your mother.
Another step forward.
Seline.
Jordan froze.
His wolf immediately became alert.
Danger.
You all think this is funny? What are you talking about? The frustration in his voice was genuine, which only seemed to make her angrier.
“I don’t care what game you’re playing.
” Her voice cracked.
“I don’t care how entertaining this is for all of you.
” Jordan stared.
Completely lost.
“What game?” The pain that crossed Lyra’s face nearly stopped his heart because it wasn’t anger anymore.
It was devastation.
raw, open, bleeding.
The kind of pain that only came from loving someone and losing them.
Jordan felt sick because somehow he knew he was the reason for it, even though he didn’t know how.
I am done pretending.
Her voice dropped.
Quiet, broken.
And if you think I’m ever going to forgive you, Jordan interrupted.
Not because he wanted to, because he genuinely couldn’t understand.
Forgive me for what? Silence.
Lyra froze.
The room froze.
Everything froze.
The look she gave him next would haunt Jordan for the rest of his life.
Disbelief.
Pure disbelief.
As though she couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing.
As though he had just denied the sky was blue.
The hatred vanished.
leaving only hurt.
And somehow that was worse.
Much worse.
Jordan.
His name sounded like a wound.
Then she whispered something.
A simple sentence.
A sentence that apparently meant everything.
We promised beneath the moon that no matter what happened.
Her voice broke.
We would always find our way back to each other.
Jordan’s world exploded.
Rain, a cottage, moonlight, laughter, a woman spinning beneath silver trees.
A promise, a kiss, a bond.
Pain shot through his skull.
Jordan staggered backward.
His breathing became ragged.
The room blurred.
Fragments slammed into him.
Hundreds of them.
Thousands.
Not enough to understand, just enough to hurt.
Jordan grabbed his head.
A growl tore from his throat.
The memories came faster.
The moon.
The forest.
A woman’s hand in his.
A voice saying his name.
Then darkness.
Jordan nearly fell.
Strong hands grabbed his arm.
Lyra.
Concern flashed across her face.
Pure instinct, pure worry.
For one brief second, then she remembered herself, remembered her anger, remembered her pain.
The concern vanished like it had never existed.
Jordan looked up, desperate, confused, hurting.
Lyra, she stepped back, walls rising around her once more.
I can’t do this anymore.
The words came quietly.
Then she turned and walked away, leaving Jordan alone, clutching his head, while the first real pieces of his forgotten past finally began breaking through the darkness.
Jordan didn’t remember how he got back to his chambers.
One moment he had been standing before Lyra.
The next he was alone.
The palace corridors were a blur.
The servants who bowed to him were a blur.
Everything felt distant, muted.
His head still throbbed.
The words refused to leave him.
We promised beneath the moon that no matter what happened, we would always find our way back to each other.
The sentence echoed endlessly like a key trying to unlock a rusted door.
Jordan paced his chambers.
His wolf was losing control, growling, pushing, demanding.
Remember, the command echoed through his entire body.
Remember? Jordan grabbed the edge of a table, his breathing rough.
What am I missing? The question vanished into the empty room.
No answer came, only silence.
Then something caught his eye.
A small wooden box.
The box had arrived from Lyra’s repaired cottage earlier that afternoon.
Jordan had forgotten about it.
The servants had found several personal belongings while cleaning the wreckage.
Most of them had already been delivered to LRA.
A few remained.
This box among them.
Jordan frowned.
Something about it felt familiar.
His wolf immediately went still.
Jordan noticed.
Slowly, he approached.
The room suddenly felt colder.
The closer he got, the louder his heartbeat became.
The box wasn’t locked.
He opened it.
Inside were simple belongings.
Nothing valuable, nothing remarkable, a worn shaw, a few old drawings, a pressed moonflower.
Jordan froze.
His fingers stopped moving.
The moonflower was dried with age, fragile, beautiful.
The scent should have been gone.
Yet somehow it wasn’t.
The moment Jordan touched it, the world shattered.
Rain.
Cold rain.
A forest path.
Pain.
Jordan stumbled through the darkness.
Weak.
Poisoned.
bleeding, lost.
The memories flooded him, not fragments, not flashes, everything.
All at once.
Jordan collapsed to one knee inside his chambers.
A growl tore from his throat.
The moonflower fell from his fingers.
Yet the memories continued.
6 years ago.
The poisoning, the banquet, the drink, the burning agony spreading through his veins.
Jordan remembered it all.
He remembered collapsing, remembered everyone panicking, remembered voices shouting, then darkness.
But that wasn’t where the memories ended.
Number.
That was where they truly began.
Jordan had awakened in the forest, alone, disoriented, unable to remember where he was.
The poison had damaged his mind, his wolf, everything.
He had wandered for hours, days, until he found a small cottage, a tiny cottage at the edge of the kingdom, and a woman, Lyra.
Jordan’s chest tightened.
The memories became painfully vivid.
Lyra opening the door, rain soaking her dress, concern filling her eyes.
Not because she knew who he was, because she didn’t.
At the time, he wasn’t the Alpha King.
He was simply an injured stranger, one she refused to abandon.
The next memory came.
Lyra tending his wounds, arguing with him when he refused medicine, laughing when he tried helping with chores.
Jordan staggered backward, his vision blurred.
He remembered her laugh.
Moon goddess.
He remembered her laugh.
It was the same sound that had haunted his dreams.
Days passed.
The memories continued.
A tiny kitchen, shared meals.
Late night conversations, moonlit walks through the forest, the scent of wild flowers, the warmth in her eyes whenever she looked at him.
Jordan clutched his chest.
His heart hurt.
Actually hurt because he remembered the way he’d looked at her, too.
As though she was the most precious thing in the world, because she had been.
Then came the full moon.
The memory struck hardest of all.
Jordan remembered standing beneath silver trees, moonlight covering the forest.
Lyra standing before him, beautiful, nervous, smiling.
His wolf had recognized her immediately.
Mate, the word echoed through the memory.
Mate, not chosen, not arranged, not political, faded.
Jordan felt tears sting his eyes because he remembered everything, the bond, the connection, the certainty, the overwhelming feeling that he had finally found home.
Then came the promise, the same promise Lyra had repeated earlier.
their hands joined.
Moonlight bathing their skin, her smile, his smile, and those words.
No matter what happens, we’ll always find our way back to each other.
Jordan felt something inside him break because he remembered saying it.
He remembered meaning it.
Then came the final morning, the palace guards finding him, the relief, the confusion.
Jordan remembered promising Lyra he would return.
Just a few days, that’s all.
A few days, then he would come back for her.
He remembered kissing her goodbye.
He remembered her standing by the road, watching him leave, trusting him completely, waiting for him.
Then darkness again.
But this darkness was different because now Jordan remembered what happened next.
His mother, Seline, the healers, a second poison, a stronger one, not enough to kill, enough to erase, enough to suppress, enough to destroy.
Jordan remembered fighting it, trying to hold on to something.
Someone, a name, a face, Lyra.
But they kept pushing, kept telling him he was confused, delirious, hallucinating.
The memories faded slowly, cruy, until nothing remained.
Nothing except an ache he could never explain.
Jordan dropped to his knees.
the truth finally standing before him in all its ugliness.
He had never abandoned Lyra.
Never.
Not once.
He had tried to return.
He had wanted to return.
He had loved her.
Moon goddess.
He had loved her.
The realization hit harder than any blade.
Because while he had forgotten, Lyra hadn’t.
For 6 years, she had remembered everything.
Every promise, every goodbye, every day he never came back.
Every night she waited by the road.
Every tear, every heartbreak, every moment she believed he had chosen Seline over her.
Jordan lowered his head, a broken sound escaping him.
For six years, his mate had suffered, and he had never even known until now.
Jordan didn’t sleep.
He couldn’t.
The memories had returned.
Every single one.
And somehow that made everything worse.
The palace felt different now.
Colder, darker, like a beautiful cage he’d finally realized he was trapped inside.
The same walls that had protected him had stolen six years of his life.
6 years from Lyra, 6 years from his son, 6 years from his mate.
Jordan stood alone in the darkness of his chambers, the moon hanging outside his window, silver light illuminating his face.
His wolf was silent, not calm, silent, the kind of silence that came before a storm.
Jordan understood because he felt the same way.
The betrayal was too large, too ugly, too deep.
He wasn’t angry.
Not yet.
He was still trying to understand how the people he trusted most could have done something so monstrous.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
Jordan didn’t turn around.
Bring my mother.
The queen mother arrived 20 minutes later.
Elegant as always, composed as always, confident as always.
She entered Jordan’s study expecting a conversation.
Instead, she found her son sitting silently behind his desk.
A stack of files rested before him.
Evidence, proof, and memories.
Jordan looked up.
His mother smiled.
The smile immediately vanished because of his eyes.
For the first time in years, the Alpha King wasn’t looking at her like a son.
He was looking at her like a suspect.
Jordan.
Silence.
The queen’s stomach tightened.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
What happened? Jordan slowly slid a file across the desk.
His mother glanced at it.
The color immediately drained from her face.
One transfer order, 6 years old, signed by her.
Another file followed.
A witness reassignment.
Another signature.
Another file.
Another.
And another.
The silence became unbearable.
Jordan never raised his voice, never moved, never blinked, and somehow that was far more terrifying.
Finally, tell me.
The words were quiet.
Deadly quiet.
The queen stared at him, then at the files, then back at him.
Still, she said nothing.
Jordan nodded once slowly, as though confirming something.
Then he spoke again.
Tell me.
This time his alpha aura leaked into the room.
The windows rattled.
The bookshelves trembled.
The queen mother swallowed.
And for the first time in years, she looked afraid.
The truth came apart piece by piece, slowly, painfully, like a rotting wound being forced open.
At first, she denied everything.
Then Jordan produced evidence, more records, more witnesses, more proof.
Eventually, the lies stopped working and the truth finally emerged.
The queen closed her eyes.
You were never supposed to meet her.
Jordan felt something inside him die.
Not because of what she said, because of how easily she said it.
As though Lyra’s life meant nothing.
As though his life meant nothing.
Explain.
His mother took a shaky breath.
You needed a proper Luna.
Jordan laughed.
A hollow sound.
Dangerous.
A proper Luna.
Someone noble.
The Queen’s voice grew stronger, more confident, as though she genuinely believed she had done the right thing.
a woman capable of standing beside a king.
Jordan stared at her.
Unable to believe what he was hearing and Lyra wasn’t.
Silence.
That was answer enough.
The queen finally admitted everything.
Seline had always wanted Jordan.
Always.
Ever since they were young.
The future Luna had spent years building her position, years earning favor, years preparing to become queen.
Then Jordan disappeared and returned talking about a woman, a servant, a nobody, a maid.
The queen had refused to allow it, so they acted together.
The poisoning, the second poison, the memory suppression, the healers they bribed, the lies they fed him, the records they altered, the servants they transferred, the witnesses they silenced.
Every disgusting detail spilled into the room.
Jordan sat motionless, not speaking, not reacting.
The queen mistook his silence for acceptance.
A mistake.
A terrible mistake.
Then came the worst part.
The part that made Jordan’s hands shake.
Years later, they learned Lyra had given birth.
A child.
His child.
The queen lowered her gaze.
Ashamed or perhaps merely afraid.
Jordan wasn’t sure anymore.
Did you leave her alone after that? Silence.
The queen said nothing.
Jordan’s chest tightened.
Mother.
The word sounded unfamiliar.
Cold.
Did you leave her alone? The alpha command exploded through the room.
The queen flinched.
Actually flinched.
No.
Jordan closed his eyes.
The answer hurt more than he expected.
No.
One word.
one simple word and yet it destroyed everything.
The queen finally admitted it.
The threats, the intimidation, the attacks, the constant pressure, every attempt to make LRA disappear quietly.
Because as long as she remained a servant, nobody would believe her.
Nobody would listen.
Nobody would care.
Jordan stared at the woman before him, the woman who had raised him, the woman he had trusted, the woman who had taught him honor.
And suddenly, he didn’t recognize her.
Not at all.
Because monsters weren’t always ugly.
Sometimes they wore crowns.
Sometimes they sat on thrones.
Sometimes they smiled and called themselves family.
A second knock echoed through the study.
The doors opened.
Selene entered.
She had clearly been summoned by the queen.
And the moment she saw Jordan’s face, she knew everything.
She knew he remembered.
The fear in her eyes confirmed it.
Jordan looked at her.
Neither spoke.
Neither moved.
Then Seline did something astonishing.
She smiled, a desperate smile.
Jordan, I can explain.
No.
The single word silenced her instantly.
Jordan rose from his chair.
Slowly, the room seemed to darken around him.
His wolf finally emerged.
Not physically, but in his eyes, in his presence, in his fury.
For years, Seline had dreamed of becoming Luna.
For years, she had manipulated, lied, schemed, destroyed lives.
And now, for the first time, she looked afraid she might lose everything.
Good.
Jordan wanted her, afraid, because fear was still kinder than what she’d given Lyra.
Neither woman noticed Jordan’s fists trembling, neither noticed the pain beneath his rage.
Because beneath the betrayal, beneath the fury, beneath the hatred, one thought kept repeating endlessly, the same thought over and over.
While Lyra cried herself to sleep, he was here.
While Cordell asked where his father was, he was here.
While his mate waited by that road every night, he was here, living the life they had stolen for him.
Jordan slowly looked toward the moonlit window, and for the first time in 6 years, the Alpha King understood something terrible.
The people responsible for destroying his family had never been rogues.
They had never been enemies.
They had never been strangers.
They had been sitting at his table all along.
The kingdom celebrated.
Nobody knew it was a funeral.
Not for a person, for a lie.
Golden banners covered the palace grounds.
Flowers lined the ceremonial path.
Thousands of wolves filled the royal courtyard.
Nobles, warriors, pack elders, every important member of the kingdom had gathered.
Today was supposed to be historic.
The mating ceremony of Alpha King Jordan Blackwood and Lady Selene Ashford, the future alpha pair, the future rulers of the kingdom.
At least that was what everyone believed.
Seline looked radiant.
A silver gown flowed around her.
Jewels sparkled beneath the sunlight.
Her smile never left her face.
For the first time in days, she seemed relaxed, confident, because Jordan had barely spoken since confronting her.
Barely reacted, barely shown emotion.
She had convinced herself that his silence meant surrender, that eventually he would do what he always did.
Choose duty.
Choose the kingdom.
Choose her.
She was wrong.
Jordan stood at the top of the ceremonial platform, dressed entirely in black, his expression unreadable.
The crowd watched eagerly.
The elders smiled.
Musicians played.
Everything was perfect except for one thing.
Jordan felt absolutely nothing.
No excitement, no anticipation, no desire, only disgust.
The woman walking toward him had stolen 6 years of his life, 6 years from his mate, six years from his son, and somehow expected to become Luna.
His wolf growled violently.
Jordan didn’t stop it.
The ceremony began.
The head elder stepped forward.
Today we gather beneath the blessing of the moon goddess.
Stop.
The single word echoed across the courtyard.
Silence followed.
Complete silence.
The elder blinked, confused.
Seline’s smile faltered.
Jordan stepped forward slowly, deliberately.
His alpha aura spread across the entire courtyard.
Power rolled through the crowd.
Thousands of wolves immediately fell silent.
Every eye turned toward him, waiting, watching.
Jordan looked at Seline.
For a moment, she seemed hopeful, as though he was about to declare his love.
Then Jordan spoke and destroyed her world.
I will not be completing this mating ceremony.
Gasps erupted instantly.
Shock spread through the crowd.
Seline went completely still.
The color drained from her face.
What? The whisper escaped before she could stop it.
Jordan never looked away from her.
You spent 6 years lying to this kingdom.
More gasps.
The crowd erupted.
Questions exploded everywhere.
Jordan continued, “Cold, merciless, the poisoning.
” Seline visibly staggered.
The memory suppression.
The crowd froze.
The destruction of records.
Jordan’s voice grew louder.
The intimidation of servants, the cover up, the attempted murder of Lyra, the entire kingdom exploded into chaos.
“No!” Seline’s scream cut through the noise.
Jordan, listen to me.
You had six years.
The words landed like a blade.
Seline stopped speaking.
Jordan stepped closer.
The entire courtyard watching.
The entire kingdom listening.
You stole six years from my mate.
Silence.
The world seemed to stop.
Mate.
The word echoed through the crowd.
Confusion, shock, disbelief.
Jordan wasn’t finished.
You stole six years from my son.
Another wave of chaos swept through the kingdom.
People shouted.
Questions erupted.
Nobody understood.
Jordan didn’t care.
The truth was finally free.
Seline’s eyes filled with tears.
Whether they were genuine or not no longer mattered.
Jordan, I love you.
The words hung in the air.
Pathetic, desperate, broken.
Jordan felt nothing.
Not even pity.
Because every time she claimed love, he remembered Lyra waiting by the road.
Every time she cried, he remembered Cordell hiding inside that cupboard.
Every time she begged, he remembered blood covering Lyra’s cottage floor.
Love? No, this wasn’t love.
It never had been.
Jordan raised his voice, the alpha command carrying across the entire kingdom.
Selene Ashford, the future Luna, physically flinched.
I reject you.
The words struck like thunder.
The mating bond that had never truly formed shattered instantly.
Seline collapsed to her knees.
A broken cry escaped her.
The humiliation was absolute.
public complete.
There would be no recovery from this.
Not after today.
Not after this.
Jordan stared down at her, expressionless.
You are hereby stripped of every title.
Another gasp swept through the crowd.
You will leave my territory before sunset.
Seline’s head snapped upward.
Pure horror filled her face.
Jordan, you will never return.
His voice never rose.
Somehow that made it worse.
The finality was unmistakable.
Everything she had worked for gone in seconds.
Then Jordan turned toward the royal platform toward his mother.
The queen mother stood frozen.
For the first time in years, she looked old.
Jordan felt a stab of pain because despite everything, she was still his mother.
That made the betrayal worse, not easier.
Much worse.
The crowd watched, holding its breath, waiting, wondering if the queen would be exiled, too.
Jordan wanted to.
Moon goddess, he wanted to, but he couldn’t.
Not completely.
His gaze hardened.
You will leave the pack house.
The queen visibly flinched.
You will no longer hold authority over palace affairs.
Silence.
You will no longer advise this throne.
The queen’s eyes filled with tears.
Jordan didn’t look away.
For 6 years, she had looked away from Lyra’s suffering.
The cottage looked exactly the same.
Small, simple, lonely.
Jordan stood at the edge of the dirt road, unable to move.
This was where it happened.
This was where he had found her.
This was where he had fallen in love with her.
This was where he had promised to return.
And this was where she had spent 6 years waiting.
The realization nearly crushed him.
His wolf was silent, broken, ashamed.
Jordan understood the feeling because he felt exactly the same.
Word of the rejected mating ceremony had spread through the kingdom within hours.
Yet Lyra hadn’t stayed to watch.
She hadn’t celebrated.
hadn’t gloated, hadn’t cared.
The moment she heard it was over, she packed her things, took Cordell, and returned home.
As though none of it mattered.
Maybe it didn’t.
Not after 6 years.
Jordan finally approached the cottage.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
A small voice reached him first.
Laughter.
Cordell.
The sound stopped him immediately.
For several seconds, he simply stood there, listening, trying not to imagine all the years he’d missed.
Then he knocked.
Silence followed.
A few moments later, the door opened.
Lyra froze.
Jordan froze, too.
The sight of her somehow hurt more now than it ever had before, because now he remembered everything.
Every smile, every promise, every kiss, every dream they had built together.
gone, destroyed by 6 years.
Lyra’s eyes immediately hardened.
She tried closing the door.
Jordan stopped it.
Not forcefully, desperately.
Please.
The word slipped out.
Raw, broken, real.
Lyra stared at him for the first time.
She looked surprised because Jordan Blackwood never begged.
Not kings, not alphas.
Not men like him.
Yet here he was begging.
I remembered.
The words shattered whatever strength remained in her expression.
Jordan saw it.
The pain, the hope, the fear, all colliding at once.
Still she said nothing.
Jordan swallowed, then told her everything.
The poison, the memory suppression, his mother, Seline, the lies, the manipulation, the stolen years, everything.
Nothing hidden, nothing softened, nothing excused.
When he finished, silence filled the cottage.
Lyra sat motionless, her hands trembling slightly.
Jordan couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
That terrified him because he’d rather face a hundred enemies than her silence.
Finally, I waited.
Her voice was barely audible.
Jordan closed his eyes.
The words hurt more than any punishment ever could.
I know.
I waited every day.
Jordan nodded.
Unable to speak.
I thought maybe you’d been delayed.
Another nod.
Then I thought maybe you’d forgotten.
Jordan’s chest tightened.
Then I thought maybe you didn’t love me enough to come back.
The confession shattered him because for 6 years that had been her truth.
Tears filled her eyes.
Not dramatic tears, not loud tears.
The quiet kind, the dangerous kind, the kind that came from being hurt for too long.
Jordan moved closer slowly, carefully, as though approaching a wounded wolf.
Lyra.
His voice cracked.
The sound surprised both of them.
I am so sorry.
The apology felt useless, pathetic, far too small.
But it was all he had for now.
A small voice interrupted them.
Mom.
Cordell stood in the doorway, watching, listening.
understanding far more than children were supposed to.
Jordan immediately stepped back, giving him space, the little boy looked between them, then slowly approached.
His gaze remained fixed on Jordan, curious, thoughtful, cautious.
Over the following weeks, Jordan returned again and again and again.
Not as alpha, not as king, just Jordan.
The man who had missed everything.
He learned about Cordell’s first steps.
A rainy afternoon right here in the cottage.
Jordan wasn’t there.
He learned about Cordell’s first word.
Not mama, not wolf, not moon.
It had been bird.
Jordan laughed, then immediately felt tears burning behind his eyes because he hadn’t been there.
He learned about birthdays, tiny celebrations, homemade cakes, handmade gifts.
Cordell proudly showed him every drawing he had saved, every memory, every moment.
Jordan absorbed them all, greedily, trying to make up for years that could never be returned.
One evening, they sat together outside, the sun setting behind the forest.
Cordell perched beside him on the wooden steps, swinging his legs.
Jordan had spent the entire day helping repair part of the cottage fence.
For the first time, the boy looked comfortable around him.
The sight meant more than Jordan could explain.
Then Cordell spoke quietly.
“If you loved Mama.
” Jordan smiled.
The smile vanished immediately.
Why didn’t you come back? Silence.
The question wasn’t cruel.
wasn’t angry.
It was honest, pure, a child trying to understand.
Jordan stared at the fading sunlight, searching for an answer, finding none.
Because what explanation could possibly be enough? Someone stole my memories.
Someone lied.
Someone manipulated me.
None of it changed the reality.
He hadn’t been there.
Jordan swallowed hard, his throat burning.
I wanted to.
The words sounded weak.
Pathetic.
Cordell waited.
Jordan looked down at his hands.
The same hands that should have taught his son to hunt.
The same hands that should have held him when he was afraid.
The same hands that had arrived 6 years too late.
I wanted to everyday.
His voice cracked.
For the first time since becoming alpha, Jordan Blackwood cried.
Not loudly, not dramatically, just quietly like a man mourning something he could never get back.
Cordell stared, then slowly scooted closer until their shoulders touched.
The small gesture nearly broke Jordan completely because it felt like forgiveness.
Not all of it, not yet, but enough.
Enough to make him hope.
And after six stolen years, hope felt like a miracle.
Thank you so much for spending your time with me and listening to this story.
I truly hope Jordan, Lyra, and Little Cordell’s journey touched your heart as much as it touched mine.
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Tell me your country, city, or even just your corner of the world in the comments below.
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Until next time, take care of yourselves, and may the moon goddess guide your path.
Disclaimer : This content may be created by AI for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.
