Three days.

Three days since Damon's rejection had torn through me like wildfire, leaving nothing but ash and agony in its wake. Three days of wandering through the wilderness beyond pack territory, my body growing weaker with each stumbling step.

The abandoned hunter's cabin appeared through the snow like a mirage—weathered wood and broken windows, but shelter nonetheless. My legs gave out as I reached the door, and I crawled the final few feet across the threshold, my mother's silver necklace dragging against the rough floorboards.

Inside, dust motes danced in the pale afternoon light filtering through cracked glass. The air smelled of decay and forgotten years, but it was warm compared to the biting wind outside. I pressed my back against the door, one hand instinctively covering my belly where the twins grew, hidden from a world that had already shown me how little I mattered.

"Just a little longer," I whispered to them, to myself, to anyone who might be listening. "We just need to survive a little longer."

My wolf had gone silent two days ago, the rejection trauma nearly killing the part of me that made me whole. Without her healing abilities, every breath felt like swallowing glass, every heartbeat an effort that left me dizzy and weak.

But the babies... the babies were still fighting.

Night fell with cruel swiftness, and with it came the pain.

It started as a dull ache in my lower back, the kind that made me shift restlessly against the cabin's wooden floor. But within minutes, it transformed into something else entirely—a vicious, tearing sensation that stole my breath and left me gasping.

"No," I breathed, pressing both hands against my stomach. "Not yet. It's too early."

But my body had other plans. Another contraction ripped through me, so intense that I cried out, the sound echoing off the cabin's empty walls. Panic flooded my system as I realized what was happening.

I was going into labor. Alone. At barely six months pregnant.

The contractions came faster now, each one more brutal than the last. I managed to drag myself to a corner where old hunting blankets lay forgotten, my fingers shaking as I tried to arrange them into something resembling a birthing bed.

"Please," I sobbed, though I didn't know who I was begging. The Moon Goddess who had allowed my mate to reject me? My mother, whose spirit I hoped still watched over me? "Please don't let them die."

Hours passed in a haze of agony. The cabin filled with my screams, with pleas that went unanswered, with the primal sounds of a woman fighting to bring life into a world that had shown her nothing but cruelty.

When the first baby finally came, slipping into my trembling hands in a rush of blood and fluid, I thought my heart might stop. She was so small, so impossibly fragile, her skin translucent and blue-tinged in the moonlight.

But then she cried.

The sound was thin and reedy, barely more than a whisper, but it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. I pressed her against my chest, tears streaming down my face as I felt her tiny heart beating against mine.

"Luna," I whispered, the name coming to me as naturally as breathing. "My little Luna."

The second baby followed twenty minutes later, and if anything, she was even smaller than her sister. But her cry was stronger, more defiant, as if she was already angry at the world that had tried to kill her before she'd even drawn breath.

"Stella," I breathed, gathering both daughters against my chest. "My stars. My lights in the darkness."

For a brief, shining moment, nothing else mattered. Not Damon's rejection, not Serena's cruelty, not the fact that I was bleeding onto the cabin floor with no way to stop it. I had my daughters, and they were alive, and that was everything.

"You're mommy's only light," I told them, my voice hoarse from screaming. "No matter what happens, remember that. You are my everything."

Exhaustion pulled me under like a riptide, dragging me into unconsciousness despite my desperate attempts to stay awake. The last thing I remembered was the feeling of two tiny bodies breathing against my chest, their hearts beating in rhythm with mine.

When I woke, the cabin was filled with pale morning light, and something was wrong.

Terrible, horribly wrong.

I could only feel one heartbeat against my chest.

Panic shot through me like lightning as I looked down. Stella lay sleeping in the crook of my arm, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily. But Luna...

Luna was gone.

"No," I gasped, struggling to sit up despite the waves of dizziness that threatened to pull me back under. "No, no, no."

I searched frantically through the blankets, thinking maybe she'd somehow rolled away, but there was nothing. Just empty fabric and the lingering scent of birth and blood.

That's when I saw it.

A scrap of emerald green fabric caught on a splinter near the cabin door. The exact shade that Serena had worn to my humiliation three nights ago.

The world tilted sideways as understanding crashed over me. Someone had been here. Someone had taken my daughter while I lay unconscious and bleeding.

Serena.

Rage and desperation gave me strength I shouldn't have had. I wrapped Stella in the cleanest blanket I could find and pressed her against my chest, then forced myself to stand. Blood ran down my legs, and my vision swam with each step, but I didn't care.

I had to find Luna.

The trail was easy to follow at first—footprints in the snow leading away from the cabin, too large and heavy to be mine. But as I stumbled through the forest, my strength began to fail. Each step was agony, each breath a struggle that left me gasping.

Stella whimpered against my chest, and I realized with growing horror that I was failing her too. My body temperature was dropping, my milk hadn't come in yet, and she needed warmth and food that I couldn't provide.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her, my tears freezing on my cheeks. "I'm so sorry, baby girl."

The trail led to a frozen river, its surface gleaming like black glass under the afternoon sun. But there, at the water's edge, the footprints simply... stopped.

They were gone. Luna was gone.

I collapsed to my knees in the snow, clutching Stella to my chest as sobs tore through my throat. Blood pooled beneath me, dark against the pristine white, and I knew with terrible certainty that I was dying.

"Moon Goddess," I gasped, looking up at the pale orb visible even in daylight. "I know I'm nothing to you. I know I've been abandoned by everyone who should have protected me. But please... please let me live long enough to find her. Let me save my daughter."

The wind howled through the trees, carrying my words away into the wilderness. My vision began to darken at the edges, and I felt myself falling forward, my body finally giving up its fight.

But just as consciousness slipped away, I felt strong hands catch me, lifting me from the snow with impossible gentleness.

"Original Luna's bloodline," a deep voice murmured, filled with something that sounded almost like reverence. "Finally, I've found you."

Through the haze of approaching unconsciousness, I caught a glimpse of my rescuer—a man whose presence seemed to command the very air around him, moonlight glinting off what looked like a crown upon his dark hair.

Then darkness claimed me, and I knew nothing more.

The first thing I noticed when I woke was the silence.

Not the oppressive, suffocating silence of the abandoned cabin where I'd nearly bled to death five years ago, but the peaceful quiet of a palace at dawn. Silk sheets rustled against my skin as I turned, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Lycan kingdom's sprawling gardens. The scent of jasmine drifted on the morning breeze, mixing with the faint aroma of breakfast being prepared in the kitchens far below.

I was no longer the broken, rejected she-wolf who had crawled through snow with her dying child. I was Iris Valdris, Queen of the Lycans, and this palace was my domain.

"Mama?" A soft voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Are you awake?"

I turned to find Stella perched on the edge of my massive bed, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in waves that reminded me painfully of my own at that age. At five years old, she was already showing signs of the strength that ran in her bloodline—not just from me, but from the royal Lycan heritage that Caspian had awakened in both of us.

"Good morning, my star," I murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. She leaned into my touch, her violet eyes—so like mine, yet touched with gold that spoke of her dual nature—studying my face with an intensity that sometimes unnerved me.

"Mama," she said, her voice taking on that serious tone she used when something was troubling her, "I need to ask you something."

I sat up fully, pulling her closer. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Do I really not have a sister? Or maybe a brother?" Her small fingers twisted in the silk of my nightgown. "I keep having dreams about another girl who looks just like me. She's always crying, and she keeps calling for someone, but I can't understand what she's saying."

My heart clenched so tightly I thought it might stop beating. The twin bond—even after five years of separation, even across whatever distance lay between them, Stella could still sense Luna. My missing daughter, stolen from me in that blood-soaked cabin, was calling out to her sister through dreams.

"Sometimes," I said carefully, choosing each word like I was walking through a minefield, "people dream about things that feel very real. Things that might be memories from before we were born, or connections we can't quite understand."

Stella's eyes brightened with hope. "So I might have a sister?"

The raw longing in her voice nearly broke me. I gathered her into my arms, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. "If you do have a sister out there somewhere, then I promise you this—I will find her. No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do, I will bring her home to us."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

A sharp knock at my chamber door interrupted the moment. "Your Majesty," came the familiar deep voice that could command armies with a single word. "We need to discuss today's proceedings."

Caspian. My husband, my king, my savior—and the most dangerous man I'd ever known.

"Come in," I called, wrapping a silk robe around myself as Stella scrambled off the bed to run to him.

"Uncle Cas!" she squealed, launching herself at his legs with the fearless abandon of a child who had never known anything but love and protection.

Caspian caught her easily, lifting her into his arms with a gentleness that still surprised me after five years of marriage. When he'd found me dying in that forest, when he'd recognized the ancient bloodline that ran through my veins, he'd saved more than just my life. He'd given me power, purpose, and a love I'd never thought I deserved.

But it was the way he looked at Stella—like she was made of spun gold and starlight—that had truly won my heart.

"Good morning, little star," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before setting her down. "Why don't you go find Maria? I believe she's preparing your favorite breakfast."

Stella's eyes lit up at the mention of honey cakes, and she scampered toward the door. But she paused at the threshold, looking back at us with those too-wise eyes.

"Mama, will you tell me more stories about my sister later?"

I forced a smile. "Of course, darling."

Once she was gone, Caspian's expression shifted, becoming the cold, calculating mask he wore when dealing with political matters. He moved to the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the morning light, dark hair gleaming like a raven's wing.

"The Thornwood Pack delegation arrives this afternoon," he said without preamble. "Alpha Damon Blackwood will be leading the negotiations personally."

The name hit me like a physical blow, even though I'd been expecting this moment for months. My fingers tightened around the silk of my robe, and I saw Caspian's reflection in the window glass—his pale blue eyes watching my reaction with the intensity of a predator.

"I see," I managed, proud that my voice remained steady.

"The trade agreements are crucial for both our territories," he continued, turning to face me. "But if his presence here causes you distress—"

"It doesn't."

Caspian's lips curved in what might have been a smile on anyone else. On him, it looked like a blade. "Shall I have him killed then? It would be easy enough to arrange. A hunting accident, perhaps. Or bandits on the road."

The casual way he offered murder—as if he were suggesting we change the dinner menu—should have horrified me. Instead, I felt a dark satisfaction curl through my chest. This was what power looked like. This was what it meant to be protected by someone who would burn the world for you.

"No," I said, moving to stand beside him at the window. "I want to see his face when he realizes I'm still alive. I want to watch him understand that the broken girl he threw away is now a queen."

Caspian's hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture that was both possessive and comforting. "And if he tries to claim you? To say that the mate bond still exists?"

I laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. "Let him try. He rejected me in front of three hundred witnesses. The bond was severed the moment those words left his lips."

"Good." His thumb traced over my knuckles, over the massive sapphire that marked me as his queen. "Then we'll dress you in your finest gown. Let him see exactly what he lost."

Hours later, I stood before my mirror as my ladies-in-waiting arranged the final touches of my ensemble. The gown was midnight blue silk that hugged every curve before flowing out in a train that whispered against the marble floor. Diamonds glittered at my throat and ears, but it was the crown that truly transformed me—white gold and sapphires that caught the light with every movement, marking me as royalty in a way that could never be questioned or taken away.

I was no longer Iris Caldwell, the orphaned stepdaughter who had begged for scraps of affection. I was Queen Iris Valdris, and today, I would remind everyone exactly what that meant.

Meanwhile, miles away on the winding road that led to the Lycan capital, a carriage bearing the Thornwood Pack's colors rolled through the afternoon sunlight. Inside, Alpha Damon Blackwood sat rigidly upright, his jaw clenched as he stared out at the passing landscape.

Beside him, Serena adjusted her pale green dress with nervous fingers, her eyes darting to the small girl who sat across from them. Luna—though she bore the name Blackwood now—was the image of her mother at that age, all dark hair and violet eyes that seemed to hold secrets far too deep for a five-year-old.

"Papa," Luna said suddenly, her voice cutting through the carriage's silence like a bell, "I had that dream again last night."

Damon's attention snapped to her, his dark eyes softening in the way they only did for his daughter. "What dream, little one?"

"The one about the lady with the sad voice. She keeps calling my name, but not the name you and Mama gave me. She calls me something else." Luna's small brow furrowed in concentration. "She says... she says she's waiting for me. That she'll never stop looking."

Serena's face went white as fresh snow, her hands clenching in her skirts. "It's just a nightmare, darling. Children have vivid imaginations."

But Luna shook her head, her violet eyes eerily certain. "No, Mama. It's not a nightmare. It feels... real. Like she's really out there somewhere, calling for me."

The carriage fell silent except for the rhythmic clatter of wheels on stone. Neither adult spoke, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

In a few hours, they would arrive at the Lycan palace. In a few hours, the past would collide with the present in ways none of them could imagine.

And somewhere in the depths of the palace, a queen prepared to reclaim everything that had been stolen from her.