The morning air is crisp, biting against my skin as I step onto the balcony of my estate. The scent of damp earth and pine lingers from last night's rain, a reminder that autumn is tightening its grip on my territory. From this height, the city sprawls in the distance, caught between civilization and the wild—the two worlds I've learned to navigate with ruthless precision.
The skyline is draped in muted hues of gray and gold, the sun hesitant to rise completely, as if uncertain about intruding on the quiet. Below, the estate grounds stretch out in an expanse of manicured lawns and towering black iron gates, a fortress masquerading as a home. The thick woods beyond the gates whisper with movement, the ever-present reminder that in this world, no one is ever truly alone.
I take a slow sip of my coffee, its bitterness grounding me.
I didn't sleep.
Not because of grief—no, I buried that emotion long ago, along with the part of me that once cared for things that could be taken away.
But last night unsettled me.
Damon.
Even now, hours later, the warmth of his touch lingers like an unwanted brand. I press my fingers against my jaw where he had brushed against me, as if I could erase the ghost of it.
A sharp knock on the heavy wooden doors drags me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I call, already knowing who it is.
The door opens, and Celeste strides in, her movements as precise as ever. She's dressed sharply, a tailored black suit hugging her athletic frame, her platinum hair neatly braided over one shoulder. Her piercing green eyes sweep over me, assessing.
"You look like hell," she says flatly, folding her arms.
I smirk over the rim of my cup. "Charming as always, Celeste."
She doesn't return my amusement. Instead, she moves toward the balcony, resting her hands against the wrought-iron railing. Her gaze lingers on the sprawling city, the rooftops still dusted with the remnants of rain.
After a long pause, she finally speaks. "Are you sure about this? The girl?"
My grip tightens around my cup. "She's mine now."
Celeste doesn't argue. She never does, not when I've made up my mind. But there's hesitation in her stance, a rare thing for her. She turns slightly, lowering her voice.
"If anyone finds out—"
"They won't," I interrupt smoothly. My tone is edged, final. "No one will ever know she exists. Not the packs. Not my enemies. Not even my own people."
Celeste studies me for a long moment, her wolf stirring just beneath the surface. Then, finally, she says, "And Damon?"
My body goes rigid.
Celeste notices. She always does.
A slow, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. "I had a feeling he'd find out."
Of course, he did.
Damon Volkova is relentless. He has always had a way of slipping through cracks I didn't know existed.
I set my coffee down, turning away from the city. "It doesn't matter."
She watches me carefully. "You think he'll stay out of it?"
I meet her gaze. "I think he's never been good at leaving me alone."
Celeste exhales, shaking her head. "Then we have another problem."
I arch a brow, waiting.
She steps closer, lowering her voice. "There are whispers, Lilith. Kade is moving."
I feel the sharp snap of something deep in my chest. "Moving how?"
"He's looking for leverage. And if he can't get you to bend—" Celeste hesitates. "He'll try to break you."
Kade.
His name alone makes my wolf stir, a low growl curling beneath my ribs. I already knew he wouldn't let me slip from his grasp so easily. But now, after Magnus Voss's prophecy—after learning that I was fated to become the first female Alpha in history?
Kade would never allow it.
He'd rather see me dead.
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders back. "Let him try."
Celeste nods once, but there's something unreadable in her expression.
I don't dwell on it.
Instead, I turn back toward the vast cityscape, already considering my next move.
Then Celeste, with perfect timing, changes the subject.
"I might not be at the office in two days," she says, her tone more casual now.
I arch a brow. "Why?"
She leans against the balcony railing, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "I have a date."
That gets my attention. Celeste rarely—if ever—mentions anything about her personal life.
I set my cup down. "Who?"
"Someone… interesting."
I narrow my eyes. "What pack?"
She hesitates just a second too long.
"A rogue."
A rogue.
Now, that is interesting. Rogues are unpredictable. Lawless. Either incredibly dangerous or incredibly useful.
I don't press. Not yet.
I want details later," I say instead. I trust her judgment and I know she won't do anything to put herself or I at risk.
Celeste smirks. "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
Then, with a small nod, she leaves.
And I am alone again.
Lily.
I find her curled up in the massive armchair in her new room, watching cartoons. The room itself is a stark contrast to the rest of my estate—warmer, softer. Plush pillows are scattered across the oversized bed, and thick, sheer curtains frame the windows, allowing golden sunlight to spill into the space.
Lily is small for her age. Her dark curls fall in wild ringlets around her shoulders, her brown eyes wide and unguarded. There's a quiet stillness about her, the kind that only comes after loss.
She doesn't notice me at first, too absorbed in the colorful figures dancing across the screen.
I step forward. "Lily."
She turns, blinking up at me.
"Oh. Hi," she says, as if I'd always been here.
I sit down beside her, watching as she plays with the hem of the blanket.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. Then, in a small voice, she asks, "Where's my mom?"
I knew this was coming.
I exhale, keeping my tone as gentle as possible. "She's not coming back, Lily."
She processes this for a long moment, her little fingers twisting in the fabric.
Then, simply, she says, "Oh."
That's it.
No tears. No questions. Just quiet acceptance.
She looks up at me. "Are you my mom now?"
I freeze.
I don't have an answer to that.
But I do know one thing.
I will protect her.
No matter what.
Even if it means keeping her hidden.
Even if it means making sure no one—not Kade, not Damon, not anyone—ever finds a way to use her against me.
Lily watches me for a moment longer before turning back to the screen, as if she hadn't just shifted something in me I didn't know could still move.
I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair.
"I'll see you later," I murmur, standing. "Go downstairs and get the servants if you need anything."
She doesn't say anything, just nods slightly, still watching her show.
And as I walk out of the room, I know this is only the beginning.
Of her life.
Of my war.
Of everything.
The estate hums with quiet efficiency as I descend the grand staircase, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. The towering windows lining the hallway let in slanted beams of morning light, illuminating the gothic arches and intricate carvings woven into the very bones of this place.
This house was never built to be warm. It was designed to be a fortress. A statement. A reminder of power.
But today, for the first time, it is something else entirely.
A home.
I push open the heavy oak doors leading into the staff hall—a vast, stone-walled chamber tucked beneath the main floors of the estate. The scent of freshly baked bread lingers in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of lavender and soap. Large wooden tables stretch across the room, where house staff gather before the day begins, sharing hushed conversations over morning tea.
At my arrival, silence falls like a blade.
Every pair of eyes turns to me.
They rise in unison, backs straightening, heads bowing slightly in deference.
I sweep my gaze over them, taking in the familiar faces—cooks, housekeepers, groundskeepers, and attendants. They are my shadows, the ones who keep this estate running, who follow my orders without question.
And now, they have another duty.
"Lily is my daughter now," I say, my voice calm but unwavering. "From this day forward, you will treat her as such. Her needs will be met before she even thinks to ask. She is to be protected, provided for, and respected as the lady of this house."
Murmurs ripple through the crowd, cautious and hushed.
I don't give them time to linger on their thoughts.
"She is human," I continue, my gaze sweeping over them sharply. "That means she is unaware of our kind—and she will remain that way. She is never to hear, see, or suspect anything that would reveal the truth about who we are." My voice hardens, a quiet edge of warning beneath it. "If she does… if any of you slip… you will answer to me."
A ripple of tension shudders through the air.
They know what that means.
I let the silence sit for a moment longer before shifting my attention to a familiar face among them.
"Elara."
A woman steps forward. Middle-aged, with soft brown eyes and silver-streaked black hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck. She has been with me for years, long enough to know how I operate. Long enough to know what is expected.
"You will be responsible for Lily's care," I tell her. "She will answer to you when I am not here. You will oversee her meals, her clothes, her studies—everything."
Elara bows her head. "Understood, Alpha."
I nod once.
"That is all."
The murmurs pick up again as I turn on my heel, making my way back toward the staircase. But even as I leave the chamber, I feel their gazes lingering, filled with curiosity, confusion—perhaps even concern.
It doesn't matter.
Lily is mine now.
And no matter what, I will keep her safe.