bChapter /bb27 /b

Skye’s POV

Adrian gazed upward at the brilliant canopy of stars, seemingly unbothered by my social fumbling.

“You don’t need to apologize for asking,” he finally said, his voice gentle. “Their stories aren’t secrets. In fact, they’re proud of their journeysb–/bbtheir /bscars are

badges of survival, not marks of shame.”

1

He gestured toward a small wooden bench nestled among flowering desert nts, their pale blossoms luminous in the moonlight.

bWe /bsat side by side, close enough that I could feel bthe /bwarmth radiating from his body, yet with enough space

between us to maintain proprietyb. /b

“Venus wasn’t always called Venus,” Adrian began, his amber eyes reflecting the starlight. “She chose that name after losing her armb–/bbafter /bthe goddess who remained beautiful and powerful despite being broken.” bHe /bpaused, his expression somber. b“/bShe was once Luna to an Alpha in the Midwest. bWhen /bshe couldn’t conceive after three years of marriage, her mate becameb… /bcruel.”

bMy /bstomach tightened at the implications. In werewolf bsociety/b, a Luna’s primary duty was boften /bconsidered to be producing strong offspring, particrly sons who might inherit the Alpha bloodline.

“The abuse escted over years,” Adrian continued. “bOne /bnight, he went too far. She fought back–and bin /bthe struggle, she killed him. His voice bremained /bsteady, matter–of–fact. “She lost her arm in the fight, and her home in the aftermath. His bpack /bwanted her bexecuted /bfor killing their Alpha, even though bit /bbwas /bself–defenseb./b”

I thought of Venus’s confident demeanor, her sharp intelligence, the bway /bshemanded brespect /bdespite her disability. How many believed bthat /bwithout btwo /barmsb, /ba werewolf was essentially uselessb? /b

b“/bAnd Lydia?” I asked softly. “The mask…”

Adrian’s expression darkened. “Lydia has witch blood in her lineage–not umon among bsome /bolder werewolf bloodlinesb. /bThe Alpha’s bmate /bin her bformer /bpack used her of using ‘lewd magic‘ to seduce her husband. It wasn’t true, but the Luna had power and influenceb./bb” /b

He paused, his jaw tightening. “They cut off her nose bas /bpunishment, coated the wound with wolfsbane bto /bbprevent /bhealing. Lydia retaliatedb–/bbshe /bpoisoned the Luna and fled. To this day, she can’t repair the damage to her bface/bb./bb” /b

I winced, instinctively reaching up to touch my own nose. The cruelty seemed medievalb, /bsomething from centuries past rather than our modern world.

“Because of her witch heritage, Nadia bwas /bjust as suspicious of Lydia as she was bof /byou initially,” Adrian added with a hint of irony. b“/bbNow /bbthey’re /bclose friends. Lydia proved herself to be extraordinarily loyal and kind–hearted, despite what was done to her.”

bA /bsmall, irrational part of me felt relieved at this information–not about Lydia’s suffering, but that Nadja’s initial hostility toward bme /bwasn’t necessarily personal.

‘What about Garrett?” I asked, remembering the young man’s uneven gait. “Was he born with his condition?”

Adrian shook his head, his beyes /breflecting a controlled angerb. /bb“/bGarrett was once considered one bof /bthe fastest wolves in North bAmeric /bthe Werewolf Racing Festival when he was just seventeen. People said he was among the top three bfastest /bwolves on the continentb./bb” /b

I waited, sensing the turn in the story.

ook bfirst /bbce /bin

“His stepbrother couldn’t handle being outshined. During a hunt, he ambushed Garrettb, /bgouged out his right kneecap bentirely/bb–/bba /bwound so bsevere /bthat beven /bwerewolf healing couldn’t regenerate what bwas /bpletely removedb./bb” /bbAdrian’s /bhands clenched briefly. “When Garrett’s mother bbegged /bbhim /bbnot /bto press charges against his stepbrother, literally kneeling before him iin /ibtears/b, he chose to leave home instead.”

I thought of Garrett’s intelligence, the quiet dignity in his movements despite his disability. “And now?”

Adrian’s expression softened. “He’s still the fastest wolf around–just not in the physical world. Online, in the bdigital /bbrealm/bb, /bbno /bbone /bbcan /bbmatch /bbhis /bbspeed /band skill. bHe’s /bour intelligence specialistb, /bour shield against those who would buse /btechnology against usb./bb” /b

It bwas /bbimpressive /bhow Adrian had helped these wolves btransform /btheir btrauma /binto strength, finding bnew /bbpurposes /bbthat /bbhonored /btheir abilities brather /bbthan /bfocusing on bwhat /bbthey’d /bblost/bb. /b

b“/bbAnd /bbMarcus/bb?/bb” /bbI /basked, thinking of the blind security chief.

“bMarcus /bwas born blind, Adrian said simply. His parents abandoned him, leaving him on the doorstep of an elderly Omega who raised him as her own. His blindness forced bhis /bother senses to develop to extraordinary levels–his hearing and scent detection abilities are unmatched.”

Adrian smiled slightly. “After his foster mother died, he wandered alone for years. He was actually the first to join Oasisborn Pack, helped me establish our territory. He bcan /bsense danger before anyone elseb, /bcan track by sound alone. His disability became his greatest strength.”

The cool desert breeze carried the scents of night–blooming flowers and distant water as I absorbed these stories.

I felt a profound kinship with these wolves–these outcasts who had refused to be rogues despite being rejected or damaged by their original packs.

For werewolves, who are instinctively pack–oriented, being without family ormunity often hurt more than physical injury. I recognized bmy /bown journey in theirs–the pain of rejection, the struggle to find meaning and purpose afterward, the determination to survive.

Looking at what they had endured, my own painful experience with Leon seemed almost trivial bby /bparison. And yet, as Adrian had said, pain wasn’t something to bepared or ranked. Each person’s suffering was valid in its own way.

‘Your council members bhave /bmy deepest respect,” I said sincerely, meeting Adrian’s bgaze/b. “What they’ve built hereb, /bwhat you’ve all built togetherb… /bbit’s /bremarkable.”fna8a5 This update is avable on fin?novel/fna8a5

Adrian nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes warm with appreciation for my understanding.

A question that had nagged at me bsince /bour first encounter suddenly resurfaced. “Adrianb,/b” I began carefully, “may bI /bask you something personal?”

He turned toward me fully, his bexpression /bopen. “Of course.”

“Your scent- I hesitated, unsure how to phrase this politely. “You carry the scent of the oceanb, /bbof /bbsalt /bbspray /band bcoastal /bwinds. But bwe’re /bin the desertb. /bbYou /bclearly didn’t grow up hereb./b”

Lgestured to the aridndscape around us. “Why would you establish a pack in an environment bso /bdifferent from your native oneb? /bWhy build Oasisborn here, of all cesb?/bb” /b

Adrian’s eyes seemed to search mine before he answered, as if deciding how much to reveal.

Finally, he asked, “bHave /byou ever heard of Stormhowl Pack?”

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Thank you! People who carry their wounds like marks of shame serve to further victimize themselves. I’ve never understood it. My childhood was one long trauma the…