bChapter /bb49 /b

When I woke up, my body felt like it had been trampled by a dozen warriors,

Every muscle screamed. My back, shoulders, blegs/bb, /beven my fingers ached. Just the act of turning my head felt the lifting a mountain.

I groaned and curled deeper into the warmth of the sheets, btrying /bnot to whimper like a wounded pup. Goddess, what kind of man bmade /bher love train

like that?

But of course, Francesco wasn’t just any man

Almost like he’d anticipated the pain I’d be in, I found a tray waiting for me by the side table–fragrant, warm, and filled with the kind of nourishment only ba /bpack mother could create. Maria’s signature touch. Warm honey oat porridge with berries, soft herbal bread, bone broth tea

I bbarely /bsat up before Francesco walked in, carrying a soft bundle of clothes and ba /bmischievous smile.

“Good morning, amore mio,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead gently. “You’re not moving today, are you?”

I gave him a pitiful, grumpy stare in response. He chuckled.

“Come on, let me help you dress, Maria went all out for your breakfast. She even made jam from those berries you liked”

I didn’t argue couldn’t. Every limb felt like it i brushed my hair back with gentle fingers

filled with molten lead. He helped me sit up, held the shirt open so I bcould /bslip my arms in, and even

Spoiled

That’s

And let him

“You need to rest for two,

sured as he buttoned up the front of my shirt. “Your body needs time to recover. It will get better,

Lopened my mouth to protest, but he was.

is already stroking my cheek with his knuckles,

“Don’t be sad,” “hei spered, reading my

abook. “You‘ be stronger when you’re better. Trust me?

His lips Brushedimine–soft at first, then deepening unit forgot the ache in my body. His hand cradled my neck, the other curled at my waist, bholding /bme steady like i was something precious.

He’d changed.

Since I told him the truth–that I wanted Mika back, that my wolf who had been weakened by rejection–hard changed.

i

i thought he might feel pity or guilt.

Instead he stood taller. Firmer Fiercer in the way he looked at me, like I was bing something worth guarding with his life.

my weak connection to the pack mind–link trembled with voices, Cheering me on. Wishing me well. They weren’t clear–my bwall /benough—but I felt them

Their support Hope Loyalty.

And I vowed.ng

to let any of them dow

The next two days passed in a quiet blur, Francesco inade sure I ate evlry meal. He sal beside me while Trapped someti

y curled against his chest, his heartbeat my buby.

He delegated his Alpha duties to Beta Allen, who I was sure was grumbling through every meeting, fut somehow, everyone dill supported Francico’s decision. The warriors smiled at me when I passed. Even the nmegas offered extra help.

And in that peace, found time.

Time to open the sketchbook Thadn’t touched in days.

The pages smelled faintly of charcoal and old dreams. I stared at the nk sheet for a long while before picking up my pencil.

Then, with trembling hands, I began to draw.

Lucas came first–majestic, broad, proud. bFrancesco’s /bLycan wolf had this ancient, powerful aura that always made the air crackle when he stood nearby.

And then… Mika.

My beautiful, elusive white wall. It had been so long since I’d seen her, but I remembered her eyes. bSilver /blike moonlight, rimmed in frost. Her coat shimmered like winter snow under the stars. She’d always looked out of ce in ckpine, like something too wild and rare for such a cold–hearted ce.

1 painted them both–bLucas /bhowling into the night, and Mika, standing beside him, silent but unbowed, as if waiting for her time to rise again,

Third Party Point of View:

in the crumbling remains of an abandoned monastery deep in the mountains, the rogues regrouped, their eyes burning with frustration and disbeliet The air looked of old blood, fear, and failure:

Thest attack should’ve been simple Quick. The girl had no pack, no formal training. The campus bwas /bsupposed to be an easy target–full of humans, fragile band /bunaware

But instead… she had burned them.

Not with fire. Not with ws.

With magic.

“She shouldn’t have that kind of power,” one of the rogues spat, his voice hoarse as he clutched a singed arm that still bpulsed /bwith residual pain. “bShe /bdidn’t even shih–but she threw me back like ba /bbdamn /bchild.”

“I saw her eyes,” another muttered, his expression unreadable “They glowed… silver. Not a wolf’s glow. Witchlight. Like

“Don’t say it.” The rogue leader stepped into the room like a shadow, his voice sharp and cold.

But it was already btoo /bbte/b. The name had taken root in every mind in the room.

Anastasia,

Thest known witch to ever stand beside the Lycans. A Luna. A legend. A woman whose power was said to have died with her in the fire of betrayal and grief.

“Tell me again,” the leader said, narrowing his eyes as he paced before them, “What exactly did she do?”

didn’t run. She didn’t scream. She closed her eyes.

bOne /bof the scouts stepped forward, hesitation thick in his voice. “When weered Whispered something i couldn’t hear. And then it hit me the force. Like a wall. My wolf whimpered before even touched her.”

Jenzhar uddet –

The n Bepan

To find out

be Lydan tas inne

of the Lycan kon

Glowed. “Even betty

The firelight tickered,