Weston rescued me from the rogue territory, claiming he felt an instant connection the moment he caught my scent. He begged his adoptive father to let him take me back to the southern pack lands and make me his mate.

On the way to meet his father, he warned me in a low voice, "The Alpha is ruthless and difficult to get along with."

He told me how the man, in his quest for power, had even sent his own mate to the Lycan King's court as a political maneuver. When he later led a rebellion and succeeded, he was informed that his mate had died in the northern territories, her grave long overgrown.

"The Alpha didn't shed a single tear," Weston said, shaking his head. "Yet he knelt before her grave and performed the marking ceremony posthumously."

As Weston spoke, I felt my hands begin to tremble.

I forced a weak smile and asked, "May I know your father's name?"

Weston seemed surprised that I dared to ask such a question directly. Then he chuckled understandingly. "You've been recovering in the wilderness for so long, it's no wonder you're unaware of current events."

He explained that the pack leadership had changed hands in recent years, and his adoptive father was the second son of the once prominent Red Fang Pack, now the new Alpha.

Leaning closer, Weston whispered in my ear, "His name is Archer Medina."

Archer Medina.

The car rolled through the towering gates of the pack compound, the willows along the path looking dull and lifeless. My face turned pale as I gripped the leather seat by the car window.

Weston thought I was terrified by his father's reputation. He took my cold hands in his, trying to comfort me. "Don't be so scared. I shouldn't have told you those things. Don't worry, the Alpha has many adopted sons, and I'm the least important. At most, we'll just pay our respects to the former Luna."

I forced a smile, chiding myself internally for losing composure at the mere mention of that name.

Leaning against the car seat, I patted my cheeks lightly.

Such cowardice.

The Adele Dean from the northern territories was long dead, her body probably completely decomposed by now. Now I was just Adele, a discarded Omega from rogue lands, with nothing in my appearance resembling my former self. Not even my own mother would recognize me.

The priority was to get through this pack visit quickly, secure my new identity, and escape to the southern territories to find my brother, who I heard had become a rogue. Once there, it wouldn't matter who Weston's father was - the distance would keep me safe.

Though...

I glanced sideways at Weston, who was clumsily peeling a pomegranate to cheer me up, feeling a pang of guilt.

After all, Archer Medina owed me. So deceiving his adopted son couldn't be that bad, could it?

Luciana Ellis didn’t recognize me.

She was just as I remembered her—gentle, thoughtful, with a faint scent of sandalwood lingering around her. A set of polished wolf fangs dangled from her fingers, clicking softly as she moved.

“No need for formalities here. Come closer, let me see you.”

I rose slowly, my heart pounding, and let her take my hands. She leaned in, studying me with a careful gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, she smiled and released me.

“You’re a good girl,” she said warmly. “No wonder Weston’s been so taken with you. He’s usually so reserved, but he’s spoken of you for years.”

I kept my head down, feigning shyness, and stepped back to stand behind Weston. I couldn’t risk saying too much.

Weston shot me a tender glance before addressing her. “Adele’s a bit shy, Luna. Please forgive her.”

Luciana chuckled softly. “It’s good to see you care for her so deeply.”

Then her expression shifted, a shadow crossing her face. “It reminds me of how your mentor used to be.”

The room fell silent.

I glanced up and noticed the faint streaks of gray in her once-dark hair, the subtle lines of sorrow etched into her features.

The scent of wildflowers filled the air as Luciana seemed to drift into memories, her voice soft and distant.

“You wouldn’t know this, but he was so devoted to his mate. He’d do anything for her—even race back from patrols just to spend one night with her on her birthday.

“It was the only time I ever saw him act like a real person…”

No one dared to speak. The silence was heavy, suffocating. I clenched my fingers inside my sleeves, forcing myself to stay calm, to keep my expression neutral.

Then, a Delta entered the room, bowing low. “Alpha Archer has returned from the border. He’s hosting a pack gathering tonight and has announced he’ll personally oversee your marking ceremony.”

What?

I thought Weston was supposed to be out of favor.

I glanced at Weston. His face was a mixture of surprise and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

At the pack banquet, I realized Weston hadn’t exaggerated.

Archer Medina had indeed taken in many sons—eight in total, scattered across the pack’s borders, each vying for power. Weston, however, preferred to stay out of the fray, content with a quiet life as a Delta. His brothers, ambitious and ruthless, often overlooked him, making this banquet in his honor a rare and unexpected event.

I discreetly scanned the room. The other adopted sons, all around Weston’s age, carried themselves with the same imposing aura as Archer, their Alpha. They were like younger versions of him—cold, calculating, and intimidating. Among them, one caught my attention. A scar cut across his brow, and when his gaze met mine, I froze.

I recognized him instantly.

Years ago, when Archer had sent me to live within the pack’s territory as leverage, Makai had been desperate. He’d clung to the gates, refusing to let go even as Archer’s warriors beat him bloody. I could still see the fire in his eyes as he’d sworn, “Adele, don’t be afraid. One day, I’ll kill Archer and bring you home.”

But that day never came.

The memory stirred something in me, but I quickly pushed it down. Promises were fleeting, and I’d learned not to rely on them.

Just then, Weston poured me a drink. I took a sip and immediately regretted it. The bitter tang of wolfsbane-laced wine burned my throat, and I fought the urge to spit it out. Wolfsbane was harmless to most, but it triggered a severe reaction in me—itching, rashes, and sleepless nights. Back in the Blue Moon Pack, Paul had banned it entirely to spare me the discomfort. But here, in this unfamiliar setting, I couldn’t afford to draw attention.

I swallowed the drink, hoping the symptoms would hold off until the banquet ended.

Archer, as usual, was late. When he finally arrived, he lingered longer than expected, sitting silently at the head table, his expression unreadable behind the dim lighting. His presence cast a heavy shadow over the room, and no one dared leave before him.

Weston leaned in, his voice low. “The Alpha’s been in a foul mood since he returned from the border patrol. Normally, he’d lock himself away and take it out on someone privately. I don’t know why he’s staying here tonight.”

Before I could ask who he usually took his anger out on, the doors swung open. Two warriors dragged in a shackled figure, their chains clinking against the floor. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

I stared at the figure’s thin wrists, where a faded pack bracelet still clung. My heart sank.

Someone whispered, “Is that Paul Shaw? He’s alive?”