POV - James
By the time we reached the house, the night had turned heavy — the kind of stillness that warned of thunder even when the sky was clear.
Elena hadn't said more than a handful of words during the drive.
She stared out the window, one hand resting lightly on her stomach, lost in thought.
It wasn't silence that unnerved me.
It was the absence of her warmth — that quiet spark I could always feel through the bond.
Now, it was dimmed. Guarded.
And I hated it.
I parked the car, let the engine die, and turned toward her.
She was still looking out the window, her profile soft in the low light.
"Talk to me," I said finally.
She blinked, then turned to me — a small, tired smile ghosting her lips. "About what?"
"Whatever's pulling you away from me."
"I'm not—" she started, but I shook my head.
"You are," I said quietly. "You've been miles away since this morning. And I've tried to give you space, but, Elena…" I reached out, my fingers brushing hers. "Space isn't what we do. Not anymore."
She hesitated, then looked down at our hands. "It's not you, James. Not exactly."
That hurt in ways I didn't expect. "Then what?"
She took a breath — slow, steady — the kind she took before saying something that mattered.
"Victoria came to my floor today," she said finally.
Every muscle in my body went taut. "What did she say?"
Elena gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "What didn't she say?"
Her eyes met mine then — not angry, but wounded. "She told me about your past together. About the nights, the kisses, how close you once were. I didn't ask, James. But she wanted me to know. She wanted to remind me she was here first."
I felt something low and primal rise inside me — not guilt, but fury.
"I told her to stay out of this," I muttered. "She had no right."
"She said she was being honest," Elena said softly.
"She was being cruel."
Her silence was agreement enough.
I dragged a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. "I can't erase what happened before you, Elena. But she means nothing now. She hasn't for a long time. You know that, don't you?"
"I do," she said quietly. "But knowing doesn't stop the feeling. I trust you, James. I just… wish she'd stop trying to make me feel like I'm temporary."
That—those words—hit deeper than anything else she could have said.
I leaned forward, took her face gently in my hands. "Look at me."
She did.
"There's nothing temporary about you," I said. "You're not a season, Elena. You're the whole damn world. She's a chapter I closed years ago. You're the book I never want to end."
Her breath hitched. "You always know what to say."
"No," I said softly, brushing my thumb over her cheek. "I just mean it."
Inside, the fire was already burning — the scent of cedar and amber curling through the air.
I poured her a glass of water, one for myself, and set them on the table.
For a long time, she didn't move.
She just stood by the window, looking out at the dark forest beyond the glass.
"She's testing you," I said quietly. "Testing us."
Elena nodded. "She wants to see if I'll break."
"She'll be disappointed."
Her lips curved, but there was a sadness in her eyes. "You think so?"
"I know so."
She turned, crossing her arms. "You didn't see the way she looked at you tonight, James. Like she was daring me to doubt you."
"I didn't see it," I said. "Because the only thing I was looking at was you."
That earned me a faint smile. "You really are impossible."
"Comes with the title."
"Elena," I added, stepping closer. "There's something you need to understand about Victoria. She thrives on control. On getting reactions. She doesn't want me back — not really. She just wants to prove she can still shake me."
"And can she?" she asked, voice quiet, almost trembling.
I didn't hesitate. "No. She never could. She's just noise."
I cupped her chin again, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You're the only one who ever made me listen."
Something shifted then — a crack in her resolve, a breath that trembled before she exhaled.
"I believe you," she whispered.
"Good."
We stood there for a moment, the quiet thick with everything unspoken.
And then I noticed it — the faint change in her scent.
Still Elena, still sunlight and rain… but softer somehow.
Warmer.
Alive in a way that made my wolf stir restlessly beneath my skin.
He pushed at the edges of my mind, low and curious.
She's changing.
I tried to shake it off, but the instinct was strong.
My wolf was rarely wrong.
I stepped closer, hands sliding to her waist. "You're warm," I murmured.
"I'm always warm."
"No," I said quietly. "This is different."
Her pulse jumped under my fingertips, and her scent deepened, sweet and wild all at once.
"I feel it too," she admitted softly. "It's been happening since the full moon. I thought it was the bond, but—"
"But it's more."
She nodded, uncertain, a flicker of fear in her eyes.
I leaned down, brushing my lips against her temple. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together."
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Even if it changes everything?"
"Especially then."
Later, after she'd showered and slipped into one of my shirts, we sat on the couch, the fire casting gold across her skin.
She leaned against me, her head on my shoulder, and I could feel her heartbeat steady against my side.
The air between us was calm, but beneath it ran something deeper — a quiet current of power and destiny neither of us could fully name.
I wanted to tell her about the packs — the whispers, the fear spreading beyond our borders — but I couldn't bring myself to ruin the moment.
She needed peace tonight.
And I needed her close.
"James?" she murmured sleepily.
"Yes, love?"
"Promise me something."
"Anything."
"No more secrets. No more letting the world decide for us."
I smiled, kissing her hair. "You have my word."
She sighed softly, the tension leaving her body as she drifted closer to sleep.
I stayed awake a little longer, watching the fire burn low.
Outside, the world was shifting — I could feel it in the wind, in the pulse of the earth.
Other packs were moving. The Council's eyes were on us again.
But none of it mattered right now.
Because in this quiet room, with her heartbeat steady against mine, the only thing I wanted to protect was this.
My Luna.
My mate.
My home.
And God help anyone who tried to take her from me
…
The morning broke silver and quiet, the kind of light that softened everything it touched.
For a moment, it almost looked like peace.
Elena was still asleep beside me, her hair spilled across the pillow, her breathing slow and even.
I watched her — the rise and fall of her chest, the faint crease between her brows even in rest — and thought, not for the first time, How can something so fierce look so fragile?
The bond between us pulsed gently, steady and alive, like a heartbeat in the back of my mind.
And beneath it, something new.
Subtle, but there.
A smaller rhythm.
Quieter.
My wolf stirred. You hear it too.
I did.
And I didn't need words to understand what it meant.
I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're full of surprises," I whispered.
She stirred, eyes fluttering open, silver-gray in the morning light. "What are you staring at?"
"My entire world," I said simply.
Her lips curved, sleepily, beautifully. "You always wake up poetic."
"Only when I have a muse."
She rolled her eyes, but the blush that rose in her cheeks betrayed her.
Then she winced, just slightly, as she shifted on the bed.
"Are you all right?" I asked immediately.
"I'm fine," she said. "Just… a little sore."
Her tone was casual, but the faint shimmer in her aura told me otherwise.
Her energy felt different — softer at the edges, brighter somehow.
It wasn't just the aftermath of our closeness.
It was the beginning of something new.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of coffee and rain.
The morning storm had passed, leaving the windows streaked with droplets that caught the light like crystal.
Elena sat at the counter, wrapped in one of my shirts, sipping tea.
She looked smaller in it, but stronger somehow — like a queen at rest between battles.
I was halfway through frying eggs when she said softly, "You're quiet."
"Thinking," I admitted.
"About what?"
"About how impossible you are to understand."
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm the complicated one?"
I smiled faintly. "You were human two months ago. Now you're a Luna, possibly carrying my child, and still you worry about HR policy and office politics. I'd say that counts as complicated."
She laughed — that low, warm sound that always melted the edges of my world.
"I like to keep things interesting."
"Mission accomplished."
I slid the plate in front of her, leaned on the counter, and just watched her for a moment.
She caught me staring. "What?"
"Nothing," I said. "Just trying to decide how I got this lucky."
"You kidnapped me with supernatural destiny and refused to let me quit my job."
"True," I said, feigning seriousness. "Stockholm syndrome. I'll take it."
She laughed again, but there was something softer in her eyes now.
Almost shy. "You really think I'm pregnant, don't you?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "I can smell it, Elena. It's faint, but it's there. And the wolf never lies."
Her hand moved to her stomach instinctively. "I can't tell if I'm terrified or happy."
"Both," I said gently. "That's how you know it's real."
The moment didn't last.
A knock echoed through the house — firm, measured, familiar.
Lucian.
I glanced at Elena, who sighed. "Duty calls."
"Stay here," I said.
"I'm not porcelain, James."
"I know," I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But let me hear what he has to say first."
She nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But if you start another political brawl before breakfast, I'm intervening."
I smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Lucian was already in the foyer by the time I opened the door.
Rain clung to his coat, his usually calm face tight with unease.
"Morning, Beta," I greeted. "You look like hell."
"Good morning to you too, Alpha," he said dryly, stepping inside. "I bring news. And none of it is good."
"Then coffee first."
He followed me to the kitchen, where Elena had already poured three cups — of course she had.
She gave Lucian a polite smile. "Good morning, Lucian."
"Luna." He inclined his head respectfully. "You look radiant."
She blinked, startled. "Radiant?"
Lucian shot me a look over his cup. He knows.
I ignored it. "What's happened?"
He sighed, setting the mug down. "It's the Northern Pack. Alpha Rowan called for a council vote last night. He's questioning your right to hold territory beyond the River Ash, claiming your alliance with the marked Luna violates the old laws of balance."
Elena frowned. "Old laws?"
Lucian nodded grimly. "They were created after the first war between packs — centuries ago. The Council decreed that no Alpha could bond with a mate whose power surpassed his own. It was meant to prevent corruption. But your bond, Elena…"
"…breaks that rule," she finished softly.
Lucian's gaze flicked to her, then to me. "You two together tip the balance. They're afraid of you, James. Of both of you."
"Let them be," I said flatly. "Fear keeps the stupid alive."
Lucian's mouth twitched. "Rowan isn't stupid. He's cunning. And he's not alone. The Western and Highland packs are whispering about neutrality. They're scared. They think the prophecy is unraveling — that the Luna's power will burn the rest of us out."
Elena's voice was quiet, but it carried steel. "So they'd rather destroy what they don't understand."
Lucian nodded. "Exactly."
I leaned against the counter, jaw tight. "How long until they make a move?"
"They've called for a council summit in three days. They want you to attend."
Elena looked between us. "And if you don't?"
Lucian hesitated. "Then they'll come here."
The words hung heavy in the air.
I glanced at Elena. She was calm — too calm.
Her fingers rested lightly on the counter, her expression unreadable.
"Let them come," she said finally.
Lucian blinked. "Luna—"
"No," she interrupted, her voice sharp. "If they want to test strength, they'll find it waiting. I won't run, and neither will he. We've hidden long enough."
I smiled — small, fierce, proud. "My thoughts exactly."
Lucian exhaled, rubbing his temple. "I should've known better than to expect diplomacy before breakfast."
"Prepare the pack," I said. "Quietly. No posturing. No threats. Just readiness."
Lucian nodded. "Understood."
He hesitated at the door. "James… if this becomes war—"
"It won't," I said firmly. "It'll be a lesson."
He studied me for a long moment, then inclined his head. "As you wish."
After he left, the silence returned — thick, charged, familiar.
Elena turned to me, eyes sharp as mercury. "Three days."
"Three days," I confirmed.
She nodded slowly. "Then we prepare."
I reached out, took her hand. "You're not fighting this alone, Elena."
"I know," she said softly. "But I also know you'll try to protect me, even if it kills you. And I won't let that happen."
Her words were calm, but I could feel the storm gathering inside her.
Power shimmered faintly beneath her skin — silver light pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.
She was changing. Evolving.
And the packs who feared her were right to.
Because the woman standing before me wasn't just a Luna.
She was something greater.