The river murmured softly under the late afternoon sun, water gliding over smooth stones like it had secrets to keep.
Romilda stood near the bank, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her dark curls shimmered faintly in the light, brushing her shoulders as the breeze stirred them.
He wasn't there.
Her jaw clenched.
"So predictable," she muttered, turning sharply. "I shouldn't have come."
"Romilda..wait."
She spun around. Martin was running toward her, breathing a little hard when he arrived.
Her eyes flashed. "Where were you?" she demanded. "I've been standing here like an idiot."
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
"I went to get this… for you."
A necklace lay in his palm, silver, delicate and the crescent-shaped stone caught the light like trapped moonbeams.
She was awestruck and didnt know what to think of his gift,
"I bought it for you," he said quietly. "I wanted to give it to you properly."
She looked away. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
Silence stretched between them.
"Turn around," he said softly.
Romilda hesitated, every instinct screaming at her not to let him this close again. But after a long breath, she turned.
"May I… remove your necklace?" he asked gently.
Her fingers curled instinctively around the thin chain at her neck.
The necklace bore a small golden charm that held her name initial. Her mother had given it to her on her twelfth birthday, she hadn't taken it off since.
"I..." Her voice faltered. "My mom gave me this."
"I know," Martin said. "I'll put it back on you. I promise."
Reluctantly, she nodded.
His fingers brushed her skin as he unclasped the chain, careful, reverent. He placed it gently into her palm.
Then he lifted his own necklace and fastened it around her neck.
The moment it settled against her skin, warmth spread through her chest, it was deep, steady and unfamiliar.
"Okay," she said quietly and turn back around to faced him again.
His gaze lingered on the necklace resting against her collarbone, the stone glowing faintly as if responding to her presence.
"It suits you," he murmured.
"Thank you," she replied, holding her old necklace tightly in her hand.
Then his eyes shifted.
Just beneath her collarbone, near her shoulder, a dark, jagged mark peeked through, like a burn etched into her skin.
His brow furrowed. "Romilda… what's that?"
Her hand flew up instinctively. "It's nothing."
"It looks painful."
"It's just a birthmark," she said quickly. "I've always had it."
Something about his expression tightened, unease flickering behind his eyes.
Before he could say anything else, she stepped back.
"Thank you for the necklace," she said firmly.
"Thanks for accepting it," he told her his eyes filled with gratitude.
***
The lounge shimmered with candlelight, polished floors, and hollow laughter.
Lisa sat with practiced elegance, wine glass lifted just enough to draw attention. Around her were her usual companions, girls born into status, power, and entitlement.
Clara, tan-skinned and sharp-eyed, leaned forward, taking a slow sip of her wine. Her father was the pack's greatest warrior, and she carried that pride openly.
"So," Clara asked casually, though her eyes glittered with curiosity,
"how's your relationship with Martin going?"
Lisa smiled — smooth, confident, rehearsed.
"Splendid," she said. "He promised to take me somewhere classy. Just the two of us."
It was a lie.
But it was a convincing one.
Since the whole pack already whispered about her being Martin's mate, the lie slid easily into truth.
Bridget gasped softly, clasping her hands. Her plump figure stiffened with excitement, freckles darkening as she blushed.
"That's so beautiful," she said sincerely. "I wish I could have a love story like yours."
Lisa's smile sharpened.
"Oh, you could," she replied sweetly. Then her gaze swept Bridget from head to toe.
"But it wouldn't compare to mine."
She tilted her head. "I mean… just look at you."
Laughter burst from the table, she always have a way over making her friend insecure.
Bridget shrank into herself, eyes dropping.
Then she stiffened suddenly.
"Oh my..." she squeaked. "Isn't that Martin?"
All heads turned.
Across the courtyard, Martin was running toward the path that led to the river.
"Maybe he's just going to see that Omega," one girl scoffed. "What's her name again… Romilda?"
"I think I spotted Ro walking that way just a few seconds ago." Clara added, the shock hit Lisa like a slap.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw clenched. Her nails bit deep into her palm.
"Oh my...Could they still be together?"
"Shut up, Bridget!" Lisa snapped, slamming her hand on the table.
The girls jumped.
Lisa stood abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor, and stormed off, ignoring the nervous laughter trailing behind her.
She followed them trail to the river and hid just far enough to see it clearly.
Martin leaning close.
Romilda smiling softly and genuinely.
The sight made Lisa's blood boil.
What does he even see in her?
She's just a lowly werewolf. An Omega. Nothing.
"I can't let her get away with this," Lisa hissed under her breath, eyes blazing with hatred.
"He's mine. And I won't let her take him from me."
Her lips curved into a cruel smile.
Because Lisa wasn't just jealous.
She was already planning.
Romilda returned home with quiet steps, the silver necklace hidden beneath her tunic, resting warm against her skin.
Every few seconds, her fingers brushed it unconsciously, as if to reassure herself it was real.
She was smiling.
She didn't even realize it until...
"Romilda."
She blinked and looked up. Her mother stood by the hearth, stirring a pot, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.
"I've been talking about the stew this whole time," her mother said. "And you haven't heard a word."
Romilda flushed. "…Sorry, Mama."
Her mother set the spoon aside and turned fully toward her, studying her face.
"You're smiling," she said slowly. "What happened?"
Romilda hesitated, then reached beneath her tunic and pulled the necklace free. The crescent-shaped stone caught the firelight, glowing softly.
"Martin gave it to me," she admitted quietly.
Her mother's expression changed instantly, surprise flickering first, then concern.
"When?" she asked.
"Today. By the river."
Silence stretched between them.
Her mother sighed and rubbed her temple. "Romilda… my child." She stepped closer. "You must be careful."
Romilda's fingers tightened around the chain. "He said he didn't choose Lisa. He said his father forced him to reject me."
Her mother's jaw clenched at the mention of the Alpha.
"Listen to me," she said firmly. "A man who rejects you once, especially because of power can do it again. Sometimes they return not to fix what they broke, but to see if you'll let them hurt you twice."
Romilda's chest tightened. "But what if he's trying to make things right?"
Her mother looked away, eyes dark with old anger.
"Alpha Luther and his son are not so different," she said quietly. "Power shapes them. And power has never been kind to us."
Inside, her mother made a silent promise.
If they ever hurt my daughter again, I will not stay silent.
Romilda lowered the necklace slowly, tucking it back beneath her clothes.
She wanted to believe Martin.
She wanted to believe the warmth she felt meant something real.
But a small voice whispered inside her.
What if this is just a beautiful lie?
A fairytale built only to be shattered again?
And that thought frightened her more than rejection ever had.