Page 116 of The Reaper's Vow
Damien reaches up, his hand covering mine. “You don't need to be as fast as me. You just need to be faster than whoever comes for us next.”
There's always someone coming for us. That's the reality we've come to accept. Whether it's remnants of Lockhart's old allies or wolves eyeing our territory, the threats never truly end. They just change shape.
“That's the problem, isn't it?” I say, kneading the muscles at the base of Damien's neck. “There's always someone waiting to test us.”
He leans into my touch, a rare moment of vulnerability he shows only when we're alone. “Nature of the beast, kitten. Power attracts challengers.”
I've learned this lesson well over these past months. Every decision we make is scrutinized. Every show of strength measured against Lockhart's brutal legacy. The pack doesn't want another tyrant, but they also don't respect weakness. It's a delicate balance we walk daily.
The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the study walls. Outside, the snow falls heavier now, blanketing our territory in pristine white. Six months in this place, and I'm still adjusting to the brutal mountain winters. My wolf loves it though—she thrives in the cold, finding freedom in the snow-covered forests where we run during full moons.
“Any word from your father?” I ask, my fingers working at the knots in Damien's shoulders. He groans as I hit a particularly tight spot.
“Nothing new. He's still handling the fallout from Saloma's trial.”
I suppress a shudder at the mention of her name. After what she did to me—to us—Anselm had no choice but to hold a formal trial. The revelation that his mate was not only a traitor, but a crossbreed had nearly broken him. The once-proud Alpha aged a decade in a matter of weeks.
“And Elias? How is he taking everything?”
Damien leans back into my touch, his eyes closing briefly. “Better than expected. He's stepped up as his father's right hand. The pack respects him more now that he's proven himself.”
“Good. He deserves that.” I mean it. Despite our rocky start, Elias has become something of a brother to me.
“He’s coming by today.”
“Did he say why?”
“Just that there's news he'd rather deliver in person.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
“With Elias, it could be anything from pack politics to his latest romantic conquest,” Damien shrugs, but I can feel his tension returning beneath my fingers. “Whatever it is, we'll handle it.”
I'm about to respond when our intercom buzzes. The guard's voice crackles through the system, slightly distorted by the snowfall interfering with our communications.
“Alpha, Luna—Elias Bellandi has arrived at the gate. He's alone.”
Damien and I exchange a glance. Alone is unusual. Typically, Elias travels with at least one security detail, especially in this weather.
“Send him up,” Damien replies, already rising from his chair.
I straighten my sweater and run a hand through my hair, an automatic response to visitors even after months of being Luna. Some habits from my previous life are hard to break.
“Should we be worried?” I ask, moving to stand beside Damien as we wait.
He shrugs, but his body language tells a different story. The easy relaxation from moments ago has vanished, replaced with the coiled readiness I've come to recognize as his default state when facing potential threats.
“Let's hear what he has to say before we decide.”
The sound of tires on gravel reaches us even through the thick walls of our home. Moments later, the front door opens and closes, followed by the sound of familiar footsteps approaching the study. A soft knock echoes through the room.
“Come in,” Damien calls.
Elias enters, shaking snow from his coat. His usually immaculate appearance is disheveled, blonde hair damp from the storm.
“Christ, it's brutal out there,” he says, pulling off his gloves. “The roads are barely passable.”
“Which explains why you came alone,” I observe, studying his face for clues about what brought him here in such weather.
