Chapter 10
Claire's POV
Six years.
That’s how long it’s been since I clawed my way out of Silver Crescent, when I bled into the mud and fell into Ivan’s territory.
Luckily, my wolf is half cured through my years of effort, and I’m still standing and fighting.
The wind bites across the cliffs as I lead my squad of warriors back through the pass. Our boots are stained with rogue blood and ash. The scent of smoke clings to us. We won, barely. Another wave of invaders pushed back.
"Claire," one of the younger guards calls from behind me, her voice bright with respect and adrenaline. That still catches me off guard sometimes. The way they look at me now, like I am someone to behold.
But I’m not. Not really.
I nod to the girl. "Good work today. We kept the border intact. That’s what matters."
The gate comes into view, and the tension in my shoulders loosens just a little. Home.
And waiting at the threshold, arms open and eyes burning with excitement, is Nova.
My daughter.
She launches into a sprint when she sees me. "Mama!"
I drop to my knees, catching her just in time. Her little arms wind around my neck, and her scent—that warm, sun-dappled sweetness—grounds me like nothing else. I bury my face in her hair, holding her tight.
"You're back," she says, pulling back just enough to look at me. "Did you fight the bad wolves again?"
I smile, brushing her curls behind her ear. "I did. But they won’t be coming back. Not for a long while."
Nova beams, and my heart squeezes. She’s grown so much. Six years old now. Sharp as a whip and full of fire. She doesn’t know what she saved me from.
Ivan appears a moment later, as composed as ever. A dark coat draped over his shoulders, his hands folded neatly behind his back.
"Alpha Ivan!" Nova squeals, grabbing hold of one of his legs.
"Hello, little pup." He says cooly.
But I can see the warmth in his eyes. Ivan adores Nova, but likes to pretend he's not a giant softy.
His stormy eyes meet mine. “Claire,”
Ivan says my name with such care, a hint of a smile on his mouth. His eyes often gaze at me with a thousand memories behind them, like he’s seeing someone else.
And I start to wonder who that is.
“My prince,”
Ivan snorts, “My prince? Oh no, am I in trouble?”
“Somebody forgot to tell me that they would be sending reienforcments. Almost blew our cover.” My voice is edged with playful annoyance.
He clicks his tongue, “Never have I been scolded for sending aid before.”
“You’ve never had someone as smart as me running your soldiers before.” I quip.
“True.” he watches as Nova chases after a flock of birds.
He then pulls out a pale envelope sealed in silver wax.
"An invitation arrived while you were gone," he says. "The Alpha Ball."
I take it, already feeling the weight of what it means. "Whose turn?"
"Silver Crescent. Gideon’s pack."
The name alone sends a current of something sharp and hot through my chest.
Gideon.
Ivan watches me closely. "I don’t intend to stay long. Just enough to show my face, make a few appearances. But it would be useful to have you there."
"Useful how?" I ask cautiously.
"You’re one of my strongest. The other packs know it. You being at my side says something." He hesitates. "Also, it gives you a chance."
I glance at him but he doesn't meet my eyes.
"To see him," he says softly. "Your son."
My throat tightens.
Leo.
All these years, I’ve only known him through whispers. Ivan's informats brought me a blurry photo of a boy with a mound of blonde curls. I’ve dreamed of him more times than I can count.
"He wouldn’t know me," I whisper.
"Maybe not," Ivan says. "But you would know him."
I look at Nova, who’s now skipping ahead of us, humming some song she made up about birds. "It’s dangerous."
"Not if you wear a disguise," Ivan says. "Mask your scent. Stand among my guard. No one questions Night Mountain warriors."
I run my fingers over the invitation.
Six years ago, I would have thrown this into the fire. But now? That sliver of longing I’ve tried to bury all these years rises to the surface, raw and aching. My son is out there. Alive. And I’m going to be in the same room as him.
"All right," I say, voice steady. "I’ll go."
Ivan nods. "Then we leave in two days. Rest up. You've earned it."
I watch him disappear down the corridor, his steps echoing against the stone.
Nova slips her hand into mine. "Will I get to go to the ball too?"
I smile, heart aching in a hundred directions. "No, little wolf. Not this time."
She pouts, but then skips away again, distracted by one of the manor's dogs.
I stand there alone for a long moment, the invitation still clenched in my hand.
Silver Crescent.
My boy.
I pull the mask over my nose and mouth, securing it behind my head. Ivan insisted that I dye my hair black as well.
I think back to two days before, when we were in his office.
"Red would give you away immediately." His fingers had traced through my scarlet locks absentmindedly. Almost tenderly.
He has become softer with me over the years. Sometimes I indulge myself in his softness, seeing him as my family. Since I've never had a real family throughout my life.
I wouldn't dare to call this love or affection. It's slightly different from what I felt about Gideon.
After all, I am now a woman with no identity at all, a woman that should've been dead.
While Ivan is the Alpha Prince.
"What name will you choose?" Ivan had asked.
I scoffed at him. "You pick."
He took my chin in his hand, turning my face side to side, inspecting me. This close, I could smell his scent of rain and stone. Something intoxicating.
"Raven,"
Now, we arrive in Ivan's town car, cloaked in the blues and blacks of the Night Mountain Pack. My armor gleams faintly beneath my long coat. I wear my hair differently now, longer, braided back.
When we walk into the courtyard, I am greeted by the familiar stone of Silver Crescent under our boots. I feel it all again. The memories. The pain.
People stare.
Whispers trail behind me. They wonder why Ivan brought a woman as his personal guard. They speculate about the mask.
"Why would he bring a woman?"
"What's with the mask?"
"I bet she has a nasty scar under there."
"Or an ugly face."
They don’t know it’s me. Good.
But then I see a glimmer of gold hair in the firelight. My pulse skips as I spot him.
Gideon.
He stands in a circle of people his posture confident, his face harder than I remember. When his gaze sweeps across the gathering, it stops on me. For a moment, neither of us moves.
He stares. Something flickers behind his eyes.
My breath catches.
He takes a step toward me.
