Evelyn’s POV
After visiting my parents’ graves, I went back to the pack house.
"I should have done this years ago," I murmured to myself, standing outside my parents’ bedroom door.
When they died, grief had overwheld . I’d barely managed to arrange their funeral before Calvin’s father Jeffrey arrived with marriage contracts in hand. The Norse Pack needed protection. A perfect business arrangent.
In the chaos, I’d never properly sorted through their belongings.
I pushed open the door. The room slled faintly of jasmine and vanilla. Ti seed frozen here, as if they might walk in any mont. My throat tightened.
I spent hours sorting through clothes, jewelry, and ntos. Each item carried mories. I carefully placed keepsakes in box.
Under the bed, I found several storage containers filled with photo albums and docunts.
As I pulled them out, a leather-bound book slipped from between two albums.
"What’s this?" I picked it up, running my fingers over the worn cover.
My mother’s na was embossed on the front: Katherine. A diary.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the book heavy in my hands. Should I read it? These were her private thoughts...but she was gone.
With trembling fingers, I opened the cover and began to read.
September 15, 1988
Today marks my sixteenth birthday. Father gave this journal to record my thoughts as I prepare to take on more responsibilities within the Blues Pack. Our territory along Duskwatch Bay is thriving. Father says we’re second only to the Eros Pack in influence and wealth in this region.
I paused, surprised. Mother had never spoken much about her original pack. I knew she’d co from sowhere near Duskwatch Bay, but little more.
The early entries painted a picture of a happy, confident young woman. She wrote about pack etings, training sessions, and social gatherings. Her words were filled with excitent about the future.
Several pages later, the tone changed.
December 3, 1988
He visited again today. Father doesn’t approve of him spending so much ti in our territory, but as the son of a neighboring Alpha, there’s little he can do to prevent these diplomatic visits. If only Father knew the real reason behind his frequent appearances...
I frowned. Who was this mysterious visitor? I flipped through the next few pages, finding more cryptic references to secret etings and stolen glances.
February 14, 1989
He gave a silver pendant today. A crescent moon with a small sapphire. I can’t wear it openly, of course. Our families would never approve. But when we’re alone, I’ll keep it close to my heart.
I turned to the next page, only to find it had been torn out. In fact, several pages were missing. Ripped cleanly from the binding. The diary resud abruptly, the handwriting hurried, the ink smudged.
July 30, 1989
I was a fool to trust him. All those promises, those whispered declarations. Lies. Every word was calculated, designed to extract information about our pack’s finances and trading routes. Father was right to be suspicious.
He’s gone now, returned north with everything he ca for. And I’m left with nothing but a broken heart and the bitter taste of betrayal.
My heart ached for my mother. Whatever had happened with this mystery man had clearly devastated her.
The next entries chronicled the Blues Pack’s rapid decline. Investnts failed. Trading partners withdrew. Territory was challenged.
October 15, 1990
The Eros Pack has delivered their final blow. Father received word today that our last major business partner has terminated all contracts. Carlos Walton didn’t even have the decency to deliver the news personally.
We’re ruined. The pack council ets tomorrow to discuss our options, but I fear they’re limited. rger or dissolution.
Carlos Walton? Logan’s father?
December 1, 1990
It’s official. The Blues Pack no longer exists. We’ve been absorbed by the Eros Pack, our identities stripped away. Father has been allowed to retain his title, but it’s aningless now.
I’ve been assigned quarters in the east wing of the Eros pack house. Carlos smiles at in the hallways, but his eyes are cold.
Another page torn out. My frustration mounted.
April 18, 1991
Another night, another "social gathering" where I’m paraded before visiting Alphas like rchandise. Carlos makes no secret of his desire to forge alliances through my mating.
Victoria was particularly vicious tonight. She "accidentally" spilled wine on my dress. The sister of Carlos’s Beta, she’s never hidden her contempt for those of us from the Blues Pack.
Victoria? Wasn’t she Logan’s mother? When I was in the Eros Pack, both Carlos and Victoria had been kind to . Why were they portrayed as demons in my mother’s diary?
June 5, 1991
I t soone today. Charles Blackwell, Alpha of the Norse Pack, visited on business. The mont our eyes t, I felt it. That inexplicable pull that can only an one thing: mate.
He felt it too. For the first ti since losing everything, I felt hope.
My father. I smiled through tears, picturing their first eting.
July 10, 1991
Charles asked to marry him today. Carlos was furious. He’d been planning to marry to ensure the Blues Pack mbers’ loyalty. I know this was his mother Marcia’s idea. That old woman understood pack politics well.
But they couldn’t interfere with a true mate bond. Not without violating sacred laws.
I’m leaving for the Norse Pack territory next week. A new start, away from the painful mories.
But they hadn’t left her in peace. Even after my mother married my father and moved to Norse Pack territory, Carlos Walton and his pack continued to harass her.
March 3, 1992
Another letter arrived today, full of thinly veiled threats. I haven’t shown Charles. But I know who’s behind it. Marcia may sign her na, but these are Carlos’s words.
They fear I’ll seek revenge for what they did to my father’s pack.
October 12, 1995
My beautiful daughter is three months old today. Evelyn is perfect in every way. The Blues Pack is gone, my father passed away last winter, and I have a new life, a new family to protect.
The diary ended there. I closed it slowly, my heart aching for my mother’s lifelong suffering and resilience, while anger burned inside at the Eros Pack’s despicable actions.
The mystery man from my mother’s youth had seduced her to gain information about her pack’s vulnerabilities, then used that knowledge to orchestrate their downfall.
And Carlos Walton’s Eros Pack had delivered the final blow, absorbing what remained of the Blues Pack.
My mother had escaped when she t my father, but the Eros Pack, particularly Marcia, had continued to tornt her, fearing she might soday seek revenge.
Now Marcia’s hatred toward made perfect sense. She wasn’t just a bully. She was afraid. Afraid I would seek revenge like my mother might have? All their hostility stemd from guilt and fear.
I wiped away tears I hadn’t realized were falling, anger burning inside .
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