Cecilia’s pov
After another ten minutes of winding through the mountain roads, we finally arrived at our destination.
Yulia’s house stood at the end of a gravel path, nestled against a babbling creek that carved its way through the property.
It was a quintessential Colorado mountain retreat: a two-story log cabin with steep-pitched roofs and a wraparound porch that hugged the house like a favorite sweater.
The exterior was a warm ash gray that blended beautifully with the surrounding landscape.
Wind chis danced in the breeze, and a pair of macramé chairs swayed lazily on the porch like sothing out of a travel magazine.
The front yard was full of wildflowers.
Columbines, larkspur, and mountain lupines covered the ground in shades of purple, blue, and white. Their sweet scent filled the air and made the place feel like a hidden garden deep in the woods.
Yulia led us inside with the practiced ease of soone used to hosting guests.
"I’ve set up two rooms for you ladies," she said, leading us up a handcrafted wooden staircase. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Fresh towels are on the beds. Please make yourselves at ho while I put sothing together for dinner."
She disappeared downstairs toward what I assud was the kitchen, leaving us to settle in.
Despite the long trip, I wasn’t even close to tired.
After dropping our bags in our respective rooms, Harper and I stepped out onto the second-floor balcony that wrapped around the house.
We wandered the periter, taking in the sharp scent of pine and the crisp mountain air.
"Cece, look over there," Harper whispered, pointing toward a raised plateau to the southeast.
"That house is unreal. It’s not your typical cabin in the woods. There’s a helipad, a couple of Range Rovers, and floor-to-ceiling windows. It looks like sothing straight out of Architectural Digest."
I followed her gaze and saw it instantly.
It wasn’t just a house. It was a fortress wrapped in glass.
The main building sat at the top of the mountain, sharp-edged and massive, as if soone had dropped a luxury yacht into the forest and left it there.
Three smaller buildings surrounded it, each with perfect lawns and landscaping so clean it looked casual at first glance, but you could tell it was anything but.
Even from here, the ssage was clear. This wasn’t just wealth. It was control.
"Yeah," I nodded. "That’s next-level money."
Author’s pov
At that mont, Cecilia and Harper had no idea they were looking right at the ho of the Locke matriarch.
Twenty-six years ago, the Locke family had been rocked by a scandal that sent shockwaves through both human and werewolf circles.
In its aftermath, the Locke matriarch had retreated to this mountain, a self-imposed exile from which she rarely erged.
She made occasional appearances at family gatherings during major holidays, but otherwise might as well have vanished from the world.
Few people outside her imdiate circle had seen her in person for decades.
Now, the Locke matriarch sat cross-legged in her private ditation room. Her eyes were closed. Her hands rested lightly in her lap.
The room was quiet and simple. Pale wooden walls. A few abstract paintings. One chaise lounge. One floor lamp. Nothing more.
It didn’t feel like a ho. It felt like a wellness retreat.
Clean, quiet, and empty of distractions. She ca here every day to sit, to breathe, and to think.
Outside the door, her elderly butler waited patiently until she completed her evening ritual.
She released a final breath and opened her eyes, her voice soft but steady: "Co in."
The butler entered without a sound, helping her rise with the care of soone who’d been doing it for years.
"Madam, Cassian’s helicopter landed about twenty minutes ago," he inford her.
A smile touched her lips. "He’s here?"
Then her expression shifted. A flicker of concern. "Is he hurt again?"
The butler hesitated. "It’s not him, Madam. He’s sent... guests. He specifically asked that they receive our full hospitality. They appear to be quite important to him."
Her spine straightened, and the warmth in her expression cooled by several degrees. "Guests? Who?"
"Two young ladies, Madam."
She froze. "Ladies? You’re certain?"
The butler gave a short nod. "Yes, I’m sure. Two young won. Attractive. Early twenties. They have a male bodyguard with them."
The Locke matriarch said nothing for a long mont, her fingers tightening slightly around the carved armrest of her chair.
Two?
Her features shifted, subtle but telling. Behind her calm eyes, a storm of possibilities swirled.
If Cassian was finally letting won into his life, it ant progress.
A sign he might be healing from the wounds he never spoke of.
But two won? And hiding them away here, of all places?
What was this? An escape?Or sothing deeper he still couldn’t na?
The butler led her out to the front terrace. It was her favorite spot to look out over the valley. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and the air slled thick with pine.
She lowered herself into the chair with practiced grace and accepted a crystal tumbler of single malt whiskey, neat.
The amber liquid caught the late sun as she took a slow sip, the scent of oak and smoke mingling with the mountain air.
Her gaze fixed sowhere beyond the horizon.
"Fiona, prepare so food," she said. "We’ll be paying Levi’s household a visit."
Fiona, who had appeared without a word, nodded imdiately. "Of course, Madam."
With a small wave, the Locke matriarch dismissed her.
Alone again, she looked down at the tumbler in her hands, the whiskey’s heat lingering on her tongue as the steam of thought rose behind her eyes.
"Two young won," she murmured. "Cassian, what exactly are you doing?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)