Draven's POV

I jolted awake, my chest rising and falling fast, sweat dripping down my body. My throat felt dry like I just swallowed smoke.

 For a second, I didn't know where I was. Then my brain slowly remembered the family curtains, the familiar texture of the bed and then I knew where I was.

I had a nightmare.... Again.

Every night for the past ten years, I thought I'd grown used to it but it never left me. Each night getting worse than the last.

The fire, the screams, and her voice. Her voice above all else.

"Draven!" she had cried out, her hand reaching for me as my stepbrother dragged her away.

Her nails scraped the rock as she tried to use it as leverage, her eyes wild with terror.

I tried to move, to fight through the flames and the guards restraining me, but I couldn't... I couldn't save her.

His laughter followed, sharp and cruel, echoing over the roar of burning wood.

I sat up, running my hands over my face, pressing my palms against my eyes as if I could block out the images.

I had only been asleep for an hour. One hour and the nightmare still came for me.

Ten years. Ten years since the coup. Ten years since she was taken from me. Ten years since I failed her. Ten years since I slept comfortably.

I pushed the blankets off and swung my legs to the floor. My body ached, heavy from too many nights of poor rest.

I could barely remember the last time I slept through an entire night without waking up choking on the past.

Her death anniversary was only days away and that always only made it worse.

I stood, poured water from the jug by the bedside and drank it slowly, it did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

The room was too quiet, of course it was.. even the palace maids weren't awake by this time.

I paced around the room but it didn't help. I was restless, my wolf stirred uneasily inside me, feeding on my tension.

I needed distraction. Work. Responsibility. Something to get my mind off these thoughts.

By then it was dawn. I had already dressed and left my chambers. The halls of the packhouse were quiet and empty but I found Alaric, my beta in the council room, bent over maps and reports. He straightened when I entered.

"You're up early," he said, his face etched with concern.

He didn't ask if I'd slept, he already knew the answer.

"There's too much to do," I replied, moving to the table. "How are the patrols along the northern border?"

"Stronger this week. We doubled the rotation like you ordered," he said. He pushed a sheet toward me. "But there's been talk, some rogues are gathering near the river."

I scanned the report. Numbers, sightings, tracks. Nothing conclusive but enough to watch.

"We'll increase the guards again," I said. "Tell the warriors to stay sharp, I don't want surprises."

Alaric nodded. "And the trade routes? The merchants are restless, they're asking for safer passage."

"We'll assign escorts for the larger goods, at least until the rogues move on."

We continued like that for a while, going over patrols, training schedules, supply lines.... The usual responsibilities of running a pack. It should have taken my mind off of it but even as I spoke, my mind kept drifting.

Every decision I made, every strategy I set, it all came back to that night. The betrayal.

The fire, the sound of her scream and his face....Always his face.

Alaric must have noticed the way I clenched my jaw. He leaned back in his chair and studied me.

"It's getting closer, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I pressed my hands flat on the table, staring down at the maps without really seeing what was drawn on it.

"Yes," I finally said. My voice came out lower than I intended. "I can feel it, the nightmares are getting worse."

"You can't keep carrying this alone, it's been ten years," he muttered.

"Ten years doesn't erase what happened," I snapped, sharper than I meant to.

He didn't flinch. Alaric had been with me through it all. He was the only one who could look me in the eye when I was like this.

"You're still blaming yourself," he said. "You couldn't have stopped it, none of us could have. He had it planned."

"He took her from me," I muttered. "And he laughed while he did it."

Alaric's expression hardened. "He's gone. Exiled. He'll never set foot here again."

I wanted to believe that. I wanted to lock those words inside me and ease my mind but doubt had a way of digging in and lately, the unease felt stronger.

I shook my head and straightened, forcing myself to focus.

"Enough of this, I sighed Lucian as the crown prince. Please engage him in some of the activities so he knows how a pack runs. And also continue to strengthen the borders. Keep the warriors ready. No one slips past us."

"As you command," Alaric said.

We finished the meeting and left the council room together, though the conversation sat heavy between us. Alaric walked away to handle the patrols while I returned to my chamber.

The corridor was quiet, but something on the floor caught my attention.

A letter.

I frowned and bent to pick it up. The envelope was folded neatly, sealed with no insignia.

Strange.

I turned it over in my hand, feeling the weight of it, the silence of the hall pressing around me.

Carefully, I broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

The handwriting was sharp and deliberate, overall it was quite beautiful.

My eyes scanned the words then my breath caught in my throat.

"He's alive, and he's coming back."