POV - Elena
The drive back was almost silent.
Not the uneasy kind of silence that fills a room after a fight — this was different.
It was heavy, charged, like the air before a summer storm.
Streetlights flickered across his face as we drove, each flash revealing a different emotion — calm, restraint, something softer buried under both.
Every now and then, he'd glance at me, his hand tightening around the steering wheel.
When he finally pulled into the long drive of his house, I exhaled the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.
He parked, turned the engine off, and for a moment neither of us moved.
Only the ticking of the cooling engine filled the air.
Then he looked at me — really looked at me — and all the formality of the night fell away.
"You handled yourself beautifully tonight," he said, voice low. "You made every wolf in that room remember who you are."
"I'm not sure that's what happened," I murmured, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
He leaned closer. "Oh, it did. You didn't need to roar, Elena. You just had to exist."
My cheeks flushed. "You make it sound like magic."
"It is," he said simply.
The word settled between us like a promise.
Inside, the house was warm, quiet. The faint scent of cedar and firewood lingered from earlier in the day.
I slipped out of my heels near the door and sighed — my feet were throbbing, my shoulders tight, and yet… my heart was racing.
James came up behind me, fingers brushing a stray curl from my neck. "You were perfect," he murmured against my skin.
"Was I?"
"You always are."
I turned in his arms, resting my hands on his chest. The tuxedo jacket had already come off, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his tie loose around his neck.
He looked dangerous and tender all at once — a contradiction I'd stopped trying to resist.
"You didn't need to do that with Victoria," I said quietly.
He frowned. "Do what?"
"Let her talk to you like that. Touch you like that."
His eyes softened. "She's an old friend, Elena. I wasn't going to make a scene at Lucian's engagement."
"I know. I just…" I hesitated, hating the edge of insecurity in my own voice. "It hurts to see her try to claim something that isn't hers."
He reached up, cupped my jaw, and tilted my chin until I met his gaze.
"She can try whatever she wants," he said. "But the only woman who owns my heart is standing right here."
I swallowed hard, the world narrowing to the sound of his voice.
Later, we sat together on the couch — the fire lit, soft music drifting from the old record player in the corner.
For a long time, we didn't speak. We didn't need to.
But the quiet wasn't enough to drown the thought that had been pressing against my ribs all night.
"James?"
"Hmm?"
"There's… something I should tell you."
He turned to me, instantly alert. "What is it?"
I hesitated, fingers twisting in my lap.
"I've been feeling… different," I began carefully. "Since the full moon. Since us."
His brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across his face.
"Different how?"
I took a shaky breath. "At first I thought it was just the bond. But it's more than that. My senses are sharper, my body feels… off. And tonight, at the party — when I touched my glass, when I felt the hum of the room — I felt another heartbeat."
His breath caught. "Another heartbeat?"
I nodded, pressing my hand to my abdomen. "Here. Small, but steady. It could be nothing, but—"
But the words wouldn't come.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he reached out, covering my hand with his, his palm large and warm against my stomach.
The gesture was so gentle it made my throat ache.
His eyes searched mine — blue shot through with silver, bright and impossibly alive.
"Elena…" His voice broke. "Are you saying—"
"I don't know yet," I whispered. "I haven't taken a test or… anything. But I feel it, James. I feel life."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It was sacred.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine.
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
Then, slowly, he exhaled — a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "The Goddess," he murmured. "You're carrying our child."
I blinked back tears. "If I am, are you—"
"Happy?" He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. "Elena, I've dreamed of a life with you since the first moment I saw you. A home, a future… everything. This only makes it more real."
"But the council, the prophecy—"
He shook his head. "Let them come. They've taken enough from both of us. This time, they don't get to decide what we keep."
The conviction in his voice steadied the trembling in mine.
I smiled through the tears, whispering, "You really think we can do this?"
He brushed his thumb over my lips. "We already are."
We sat like that for a while — two people holding onto a fragile, beautiful truth.
And when he finally kissed me, it wasn't about hunger this time.
It was about peace.
About the future.
About the tiny flicker of life that might already be growing between us.
Outside, the night deepened. The storm from the day before had passed, leaving only the faint scent of rain.
Inside, we were still — wrapped in warmth and quiet, in love and something far greater than either of us could name.
The world would come for us soon enough.
But not tonight.
Tonight, it was just us — two hearts, one bond, and perhaps a third heartbeat, waiting quietly in the space between them.
…
The morning sunlight fell in soft stripes across the kitchen floor.
James was already awake, standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Even half-dressed, he looked every inch the Alpha — calm, controlled, unshakable.
He spoke in low tones, his voice like a steady drumbeat through the quiet of the house.
"…Yes, keep them stationed by the border. No movement until I give word."
He paused, listening. His jaw tightened slightly. "I understand, Lucian. We'll discuss it with the council of Alphas later today. No one moves against us — not yet."
I sipped my tea, pretending not to listen — but of course I was.
The words border and movement had a particular weight these days.
Even before I knew what I was, I could feel the unease spreading through the packs like a cold wind.
Now, after everything that had happened — my awakening, the bond, the mark — that unease had turned into fear.
The other Alphas could feel the change, even from afar.
James's pack had always been one of the strongest, but now?
Now, with me at his side, our bond amplifying his strength, our power was something else entirely.
And fear was a dangerous thing.
He ended the call, exhaled, and turned to me.
"You heard," he said softly.
"Only a little," I admitted.
His eyes softened. "Some of the other packs are… nervous. They think our bond gives us too much power. That the prophecy was meant to balance the realm, not tip it."
"And they think we're tipping it."
He nodded. "They don't understand. They see strength as a threat."
I looked down into my cup, watching the steam twist and fade. "Then let them be afraid."
He smiled faintly, stepping closer. "There's my Luna."
I laughed under my breath. "I don't say it to sound fearless, James. I just know what it's like to be hunted for what you are. Fear doesn't deserve mercy."
He reached for me, fingers brushing my jaw. "You sound more like an Alpha every day."
"Maybe I'm learning from the best."
By midmorning, I was back in the office.
The HR floor felt smaller now — almost too human after everything I'd lived through.
Still, there was comfort in the routine: the hum of printers, the soft click of keyboards, the scent of fresh paper and coffee.
Claire stopped by my desk, her hair pulled into a loose braid, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.
"So," she said, leaning against the cubicle wall, "you're glowing again."
I blinked. "Glowing?"
"Yeah. Like you've been living in a romance novel." She squinted at me. "Did you two finally talk after the party?"
I tried not to smile. "Something like that."
Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, Elena."
"Not that," I said quickly, cheeks burning.
She laughed. "You're a terrible liar."
I laughed too, because it was easier than explaining the truth — that every night with James felt like a page out of something far older and deeper than any romance.
But the laughter faded when the elevator doors opened.
And Victoria stepped out.
I saw her before she saw me.
Her hair was pulled into a sleek bun, a dark emerald dress hugging her body, confidence radiating off her in waves.
"Speak of the devil," Claire whispered, following my gaze. "That's the woman from the engagement party, right? The one who looked at you like you'd stolen her favorite toy?"
"Claire," I muttered. "Not helping."
Victoria caught sight of me then, and her smile sharpened.
"Elena," she said smoothly, walking toward me as if she owned the building. "Lovely to see you here. Working hard, I hope?"
"Always," I said evenly.
"Good. You'll need the distraction, I imagine."
I frowned. "From what?"
She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Oh, nothing. Just thought it must be… complicated. Dating your Alpha. And your boss."
Claire bristled beside me. "That's really not your concern."
Victoria ignored her completely, eyes fixed on me. "You know, I was surprised when I saw how serious you two have become. James and I used to… spend so much time together. Long nights. Long conversations. You must be very special to make him forget."
The words were soft, polite — but each one cut like glass.
"I'm not trying to compete with your memories, Victoria," I said quietly. "I don't need to."
For a moment, something flickered in her eyes — annoyance, maybe even jealousy — but she hid it behind another golden smile.
"Of course not," she said sweetly. "You're Luna now. That's a hard title to compete with."
And with that, she turned and walked away, her perfume lingering like a threat.
Claire let out a low whistle. "She's worse than I imagined."
I forced a smile. "It doesn't matter."
But it did.
The moment she left, my chest ached in a way I couldn't explain. Not from fear — but from that familiar, human thing: insecurity.
It wasn't that I doubted James's love.
I just… doubted myself.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of paperwork and half-finished thoughts.
Every so often, I'd feel a flicker through the bond — James's voice on the phone upstairs, the weight of his presence pressing faintly against my mind.
He was busy — meetings, calls, politics.
But the one presence that returned too often, too easily, was hers.
I could feel her hovering near his office.
That cool, careful energy of someone who knew she was being watched but didn't care.
It took everything in me not to go up there.
By the time evening came, my head ached from the effort of pretending nothing was wrong.
I packed up slowly, gathering my things, and stepped into the elevator.
Halfway down, my stomach twisted — not from nerves this time, but from something deeper.
I pressed a hand to my abdomen, feeling again that faint pulse of warmth I'd felt the night before.
It wasn't just emotion anymore.
It was life.
Something was changing.
When the doors opened, James was waiting in the lobby.
He smiled, but I saw the fatigue in his eyes.
"Long day?"
"Something like that."
He took my hand, guiding me toward the car. "Lucian's coming over tonight. We need to talk about the northern borders."
"Do I need to worry?"
"Not yet," he said. Then, noticing my silence, added softly, "What's wrong?"
I hesitated. "Nothing."
"Elena."
I looked at him, trying to hold his gaze. "Just tired."
He didn't believe me — he never did — but he didn't push.
Instead, he squeezed my hand gently and opened the car door for me.
As the city lights faded behind us, I glanced out the window, the dark road stretching endlessly ahead.
Fear. Power. Destiny.
All of it was circling us now, closing in.
And yet, all I could think about was the woman in green, and the quiet ache she'd left behind.
I hated that she'd gotten to me.
I hated that she'd made me feel small, even for a heartbeat.
But most of all, I hated that I didn't know how to tell James any of it — not without sounding weak.
I turned my head, watching him drive, his profile sharp and sure in the dim light.
He looked so certain.
So calm.
So utterly unaware that the woman beside him was falling apart in silence.