redith.
I stood with everyone at the front steps—guards in clean lines, Dennis out front with his hands clasped behind his back, staff fanned across the portico.
Even Wanda was here, looking washed-out and tight-mouthed. Xamira’s small fingers were curled around mine, bouncing on her toes.
"Daddy’s car?" she whispered like a secret.
"It will be here any minute," I said, even though my pulse had been saying any second for the last ten minutes.
About a minute later, engines finally rolled in from the road—low, heavy, familiar. Headlights swept across the gravel as five black SUVs eased through the gate and up the circular drive.
The air suddenly changed as anticipation crackled through the crowd like static.
The convoy braked and doors clicked. The third SUV opened—and there he was.
Draven stepped out, tall and steady despite the long drive, eyes scanning the line of faces. The instant his gaze found , sothing in my chest unclenched.
But Xamira didn’t wait; she tore away from my hand and launched at him.
"Daddy!"
He caught her mid-sprint, lifting her under the arms and spinning her once. She shrieked a laugh, clinging to his neck.
"Did you get taller?" he murmured into her hair.
"I did! And we built a castle," she said against his shoulder, breathless. "Your wife took a picture. You have to see it."
"I can’t wait." He set her on his hip and started toward .
I forgot about everyone else then. His focus slid to and stayed there, cutting clean through the crowd, the drive, the day. He stopped close enough that his warmth touched my skin.
Up close, I could sll leather and wind and the faintest trace of steel. Ho.
"Welco back," I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky as I felt.
"Thank you for waiting," he said quietly, and dipped his head so our foreheads brushed.
The contact was barely a breath, but it grounded . Then his eyes flicked over —hair, face, the simple dress I’d agonized over—and softened. "You look perfect."
Heat rose to my cheeks. Xamira tugged his jaw. "Daddy, is she pretty?"
"She’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen today," he said, not looking away from .
A throat cleared politely. Jeffery stepped out behind him, giving a respectful nod.
"Luna." His eyes crinkled, almost a smile, before he turned to Dennis for a quick warrior’s clasp and low-voiced exchange.
Finally, Dennis turned to Draven and welcod him after allowing us have our mont.
"Welco back, brother," He said, giving Draven a one sided hug.
"Thank you." A small smile hung on Draven’s lips as he returned the hug with one arm.
Two more doors opened from the second SUV, and my brother erged first in a charcoal jacket, hair combed, expression faintly amused like he was touring an exhibit. My sister, Mabel, followed, sleek in ivory, lips curved in a smile that never reached her eyes.
My stomach gave a small, traitorous twist, but I kept my face smooth. "Welco, brother. Sister."
"redith," Gary said, sweeping his glance over , the house, Draven, and then back to . "Quite the welco."
Mabel’s smile sharpened. "Little sister." Her gaze slid to Draven’s arm poised so easily within reach of mine, and sothing brittle flashed behind her eyes before she smoothed it away.
"You look... different. And your scar... it’s gone."
Mabel expressed more shocked than Gary over my fresh looks, but I had to remain poised.
"Better," I said lightly. "Thank you."
Draven shifted subtly, angling his body between theirs and without making a show of it.
"As agreed with your father: you’re guests in my ho," he said, voice calm but carrying. "You will follow house rules and my directives at all tis. My brother, Dennis, will brief you on the essentials."
Gary’s mouth opened—sothing glib poised on his tongue—but he caught Jeffery’s expression and thought better of it. "Of course."
"Of course," Mabel echoed, eyes flitting back to , the smile returning—sweet frosting over sothing sour.
Then from the first SUV, another familiar figure stepped out. It was Mada Beatrice to my surprise. She was tidy as ever, clipboard already in hand.
Against my wonderful surprise and a brief glance at Draven, wondering what he was up to, relief pricked behind my ribs.
Just then, Draven’s voice carried easily over the low hum of warriors unloading the cars.
"From this mont," he said, his tone cool and deliberate, "Mada Beatrice oversees the Duskmoor household. All dostic and logistical matters will run through her."
A wave of "Yes, Alpha" moved down the steps. Mada Beatrice nodded once, efficient and unflappable.
For a heartbeat, I thought I had misheard him. My breath caught. ’Mada Beatrice? Here? To run Draven’s estate?’
Dennis’s eyebrows shot up, and I saw the flicker of a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth before he masked it. He knew what this ant: no more Wanda running unchecked, no more chaos disguised as structure.
But Wanda—oh, Wanda.
I quickly turned my gaze to her and already, her face drained of color so quickly I half-wondered if she might faint.
The tension in her jaw stood out sharp against her skin, and her lips parted as if to protest—then snapped shut again when Draven’s eyes flicked briefly toward her.
Fury bled into her expression, poorly hidden beneath a stiff, polite smile. Her hands curled into fists against her skirts.
"Alpha," she said, her voice sugar-sweet but tight as a drawn bowstring, "such... unexpected news. I wasn’t aware that my position had changed."
"Now you are. You have enough ti to adjust," Draven replied evenly, already turning toward Jeffery as if her words barely mattered.
I swallowed hard, forcing my expression neutral even though inside I wanted to laugh—laugh at the sheer audacity of Wanda thinking she could hold on forever, laugh with relief that Draven had finally cut the ground from under her.
But I didn’t laugh. I only held my head a little higher.
Beside , Dennis leaned closer, his voice pitched so low only I could hear. "Didn’t see that coming, did she?"
"No," I whispered back, keeping my lips from curving. "Not at all."
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