MAEVE’S POV
[MONTS EARLIER]
Lydia was still unconscious when I left her chambers.
She was breathing, but I wasn’t sticking around to watch her wake up. I cleaned up the cut hair, the spilled tonic, and the broken glass. Then I left just as quickly.
By the ti I returned to my quarters, Asha was just finishing lunch.
"Thanks for looking after him," I told Nina. "You can take a break. I’ve got it from here."
Relieved, she shrugged on her coat, patted Asha’s head, and left to tour the castle.
My baby’s face stretched out in a blinding grin just as I pulled him into my arms.
"Hey, honey. How were your lessons? Did you miss ?"
"I missed Mummy," he crooned, hugging tight—then pulling back with a scowl. "But I’m bored," he huffed. "I wanna go outside. When is Daddy coming?"
I sighed. "I already told you, Asha. Daddy can’t co. But once I finish what I have to do here, I’ll take you to him."
How soon that would be, I didn’t know.
We’d only been here a day, but I already missed Devon. I missed ho. And I hated the fact that Ash Creek was putting in such dangerous proximity to Ivan.
Goddess, I blad that for how far things had gone with him—how easily I’d let him hold , kiss ... taste . Fucking hell, Maeve. Real smooth.
I’d thought I was past him. That he had no control over anymore.
Devon would be so disappointed if he knew. It had barely been a day and I was already swapping saliva with the man he hated most.
The guilt ate like a disease. But my wolf... she didn’t feel the sa. She didn’t regret a damn thing.
I had to be careful now. I needed to be the one rolling the dice, not him. No more slip-ups. No more letting his charm sink its claws into .
No more disappointing Devon. No more betraying what we had.
Ivan was dead to . And I’d keep it that way.
"If Daddy’s not coming, can we go outside?" Asha asked again, using that look that always pulled my heartstrings.
"I don’t know, Asha... it might not be safe."
"Please!" he begged, practically whining, and on the verge of a tantrum.
But even then, I hesitated. If Ash Creek had taught anything, it was that it wasn’t a place for soft, harmless boys like Asha—not when people like Serena and Lydia still existed.
But then, he had been cooped up all day, and this place wasn’t ho. He was used to playing legs deep in mud. He chased butterflies for hours on end and took regular runs with Devon in the woods.
I could see how being constrained to a stuffy bedroom, taking lessons all morning, would take a toll on him.
"Fine," I relented, sighing softly. How could I ever say no to him? "But not for long."
"Yay!" he shouted, hugging again. "Thanks, Mummy!"
"You’re welco. Just don’t get mud on your shorts."
"Okay!"
* * *
We stepped out into the sunlight.
First, the fountain. Asha shrieked with joy every ti the water spouted up. Dark Wind had no such sights, and it was heartwarming—truly—to see my boy this excited by sothing so simple.
Then ca the fields. We walked hand in hand, the wind tugging at our clothes.
Earlier, I’d grabbed a blanket and so fruit—grapes, strawberries, bottled water—for a makeshift picnic.
A small, satisfied smile pulled at my lips as I watched Asha chase butterflies with his empty jar while I set up our spot.
By the ti he plopped down beside , breathless and beaming, I couldn’t stop the warmth that blood in my chest.
There was no feeling in the world that compared to the spark of joy I felt when my son was happy.
It healed sothing deep inside —sothing wounded and battered by this world, by this cruel pack.
It reminded why I kept fighting, why I kept rising no matter how many tis I’d been brought to my knees.
The Goddess might have believed I was born to save Asha’s life and carve out his place in this world. But the truth was, Asha’s existence had saved .
He was my salvation.
My gaze shifted to the still empty jar Asha held.
"Where are the butterflies?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I caught them... but I let them go."
"Oh?" I tilted my head. "Why’s that?"
He didn’t answer right away. Just stared out at the grass, thoughtful in that oddly grown-up way only children can be.
"I dunno," he finally said. "I think... it stops being fun once you have them. They looked sad in there. I don’t think pretty things are made to be trapped."
I blinked, taken aback by the depth of his words, even as he cluelessly continued playing with the grass. At that, I laughed.
"I see," I said as I handed him a few grape pieces, and he ate them like nothing life-altering had just slipped from his mouth.
Once those were finished, I handed him a few more. We basked in the serene quiet of each other’s company—until I handed him a strawberry.
Asha made a face of disgust. "I don’t like strawberries."
"It’s good for you, baby," I urged. "Co on. Just one."
"No!" he refused. "No strawberries."
"If you don’t eat it, I’ll make you," I warned, holding it up and sounding maniacal. "Why? Because I am Greta, the Big Bad Wolf."
At the ntion of the villain from his favorite book, Asha let out a shriek and bolted.
Laughing, I chased after him through the grass.
"I’m coming for you, Prince Asha! And my evil little strawberry!"
Wind in my hair, laughter bubbling from my chest—I couldn’t rember the last ti I let myself play like this.
We finally collapsed beneath the white oak tree, gasping and giggling.
"Greta wins," I said, offering him the strawberry again.
"Fine," he pouted. "Just one bite."
He took it like a champ. Eyes closed. Swallowed dramatically.
"That wasn’t so bad, was it?"
"No. Mommy was right. It wasn’t," he smiled.
"I told you so." I ruffled his soft curls, brushing the leaves out of them, then took his hand as I stood. "Co on, let’s head back. Outdoor ti is up for us."
Asha groaned, but didn’t complain.
We turned to head back to the pack house, only to stop short. There, just a few feet away, stood a man: fucking naked.
And not just naked—glorious.
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