Elenora
But despite my mother's heroic attempts to parade me in front of every eligible Alpha and Beta within a hundred-mile radius, tonight wasn't about me.
Not even a little.
Tonight was about Charlotte.
Of all the people in my rather complicated family, she was the one whose heartbeat had always somehow synced with mine. My little sister—not so little anymore—but still the person who had seen me at my worst and never once flinched.
She was there when I was fifteen, terrified, and my reputation was crumbling faster than a stale cookie. She stood by me when everyone else whispered. She held my hand when I gave birth to Max, her eyes fierce and protective like a wolf twice her size.
And she was there moments after, when my wolf, Muriel, made herself known—white-furred, proud, and wildly protective of our newborn son. Charlotte had cried harder than I had, clutching my hand and saying, You're not alone, Ella. You'll never be alone.
She meant it. She always meant it.
And when she left for the Lycan Elite Academy—the grand, ancient training ground for Alpha heirs across the world—I hugged her. Five years older or not, nothing had ever changed the fact that we were… linked. Not just by blood, but by choice. By the kind of sisterhood that didn't need words to understand.
She had grown there. Trained. Shaped her place in the world.
And now—she had found her mate.
Her Moon-given mate.
The kind of love story our parents pretended didn't exist because it didn't fit neatly into their "strategic alliance" handbook. But Charlotte? She was about to choose happiness over heritage.
And I adored her for it.
I slipped the jade-green dress over my head, smoothing the fabric as it hugged my waist. The color made my eyes gleam like polished emeralds—something my mother would have preened over if she wasn't currently downstairs calculating which Alpha line would be "honored" to marry into ours.
Good luck to them. I intended to avoid them all with the grace of a cat avoiding bathwater.
As I pinned up my hair, Muriel stirred inside me—a warm, approving hum.
Protect her, she whispered through the bond.
"I will," I murmured back. "Like she protected us."
Because tonight, Charlotte wasn't just bringing home a man.She was bringing home a mate. A bond chosen by the Moon Goddess herself.
And she was ready to stand against our family's expectations. Against tradition. Against the suffocating weight of what everyone thought she should be.
I loved her for that courage.
And I would stand beside her.No matter how loudly our parents objected.No matter how dramatic the evening became—which, let's be honest, with my family, drama was practically a form of currency.
I smiled at my reflection—soft, a little mischievous, and ready.
The only thing that would truly be difficult tonight wasn't my mother's inevitable matchmaking attempts.Nor the eager, assessing looks of marriage-minded Alphas she had practically hand-selected like prized stallions.Not even Max, who would inevitably declare war on the dessert table armed with nothing but enthusiasm and a spoon.
No.
The part that tugged at me—the part that made my chest tighten—was something far quieter:
Charlotte might be leaving.
Her mate would take her to his pack.Her future would unfold somewhere else.And suddenly… home might feel a little emptier.
I swallowed, smoothing the jade-green fabric beneath my fingertips.Of course I was happy for her. Goddess, I was overjoyed. She was brave, fierce, and ready to choose her own happiness, even if it meant defying our parents' perfectly curated plans.
But a small part of me—the part that held her hand when she had nightmares, the part that tucked her into bed when Mother and Father were too busy with political duties, the part that walked beside her to the Lycan Elite Academy—that part wasn't ready.
What if she really goes?What if I'm suddenly the only one left fighting Mother's matchmaking militia all by myself?
I let out a long breath.
Maybe… maybe I didn't have to stay.
Maybe I could go with Max if Charlotte moved to her mate's pack.Maybe I could finally escape the golden cage my parents called "a promising future."
A new place.A new pack.A new life.
I pictured it without meaning to—a small Inn I could run myself, with warm wooden beams and cozy rooms that smelled like cinnamon and old books. A place where no one whispered about my past or handed me lists of "suitable candidates."
A place where Max could grow freely.And I could breathe freely.
A soft smile tugged at my lips.
"Maybe," I murmured, "our fresh start begins where hers does."
Muriel stirred inside me, warm and approving.Freedom, she whispered. At last.
Yes.Maybe it was time.