ASH

She was asleep. She had no idea she was a permanent target for being a female wolf. She hadn’t even known there was a wolf inside her. And she definitely didn’t think I was her mate.

This meant she’d ask to go home as soon as she felt better.

And we couldn’t let her.

Connor let out a ragged breath beside me.

I didn’t need to ask what he was thinking.

How did the mate bond choose both of us for Claire, but only me for Luna?

After everything we went through, the oddity of a female having two mate bonds and the three of us forming a family unit was remarkable. It felt like it was for nothing now.

Was it a mistake?

Was he still too deep in grief to even register it?

I let myself think of Claire for the first time in a long time.

As a wolf, she’d been majestic. Powerful.

Almost as big as Connor. Fierce in spirit.

Determined to fight and determined to live her own life.

Two mates had stifled her. She wanted freedom, not fate.

Choice, not destiny. Study. Travel. Escape.

The day the bond snapped into place—for all three of us—it broke something in her.

That panicked look in her eyes was still the most explicit memory I have.

She never wanted the bond. Not with one of us. Definitely not both.

I shook my head. I couldn’t afford to unravel. Not now. Not with Luna under our roof. I had a job to do—protect this family.

Luna whimpered in her sleep, shifting restlessly. One arm raised like she was fending something off.

My heart kicked. The instinct to soothe her was overwhelming.

But she didn’t know me. Not really. She’d just been attacked. She’d just been told she wasn’t human.

She whimpered again.

I moved closer, glanced at Connor, then reached out carefully.

“Luna,” I said gently, touching her jerking arm.

She startled awake with a gasp, clutching her side. Her eyes searched the room in panic, landed on me, and softened. Her breath escaped in a sigh, and she sank back onto the couch.

“A dream,” I murmured, pulling my hand away.

“Yes,” she echoed. “A dream. Sorry.” She adjusted herself with a soft groan.

We sat in silence.

Then she spoke. “Are we near town?”

“Yes. Not far up the mountain. Same woods where we found you.”

She nodded. “Have you lived here all your life?” She included Connor with a glance.

“Yeah. This is pack land. We live on the edge of pack territory—part of it, but apart.”

Her expression remained unchanged, but I noticed the calculation in her eyes. She appeared composed, yet her knuckles were white around the knot of her robe.

“How long have you been in town?” Connor asked. “What brought you here?”

“A few weeks. I took a temp admin job for the real estate agent in town.”

We knew the agent. We knew everyone in this town by sight. And everyone knew us—the strange men from the hill.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Nowhere,” she said flatly. “Foster care. I’ve moved around since uni.” Her voice conveyed lightness, but her clenched fists suggested otherwise.

Connor leaned forward, eyes fixed on her. How had she survived this long without knowing what she was? Without being found?

She yawned, and I hesitated, then said, “We need to check your ribs. If they’re fractured, you might need further treatment—even with accelerated healing.”

She nodded. Quiet again. Claire would’ve protested, demanded details, and asked a dozen questions. Luna just... endured.

“I can’t really show you because…um.” She blushed.

“There’s nothing else under that robe.” I finished for her.

Connor’s breath hitched, and he jumped up.

“I’ll get you a t-shirt.” He was moving before he finished. I tried not to think of the fact that she was essentially naked. We should have been better prepared. She deserved dignity, not oversight.

Connor handed her a soft blue t-shirt. I stood automatically, as if giving her space was all I could offer. “We’ll just give you some privacy,” I said, walking through the front door.

“I feel like we’re doing this all wrong,” I admitted as we walked past our truck parked near the front door and into the forest. I could hear the distant sounds of the rest of our pack, but we were so far away that people had to visit us intentionally.

We’d designed the house that way. Even to the pack, it was weird that the bond hit three of us.

We’d heard of others but never met them.

Our elder supported us, but we were oddities.

“We have to tell Maddie and Aaron.” Connor’s thoughts might have bent in a similar direction. We did need to tell our pack elder. But it felt too new and vulnerable. Especially when she didn’t even know she was a wolf before today.

“I know. I’ll send a message,” I said, kicking a stone and looking out, not really seeing the trees that spread in every direction. In the past three years, I’d locked my emotions down and carried on, but now many things were fighting to surface.

I walked back to the front door, looking in. She was settled again. The t-shirt dwarfed her petite frame. I gestured to Connor.

She looked up as we entered. The robe was tightly wound around her waist and legs. There was a wariness there, like she recognised how vulnerable she was right now. I sat down at the opposite end of the couch to appear less threatening.

Luna lifted the hem of the t-shirt. I held my breath.

She was letting us in, not just because she was exposing a part of herself, but because of what we saw.

A brutal, dark bruise bloomed across her ribs and back—deep purple against pale skin.

“Sweetheart,” Connor said, his voice barely controlled. “Doesn’t that hurt? Why didn’t you tell us how bad it was?”

“It’s better now,” she said. Not defensively. Just the way someone might say, “It’s raining less,” while still standing in the storm. She lowered her top, visibly uncomfortable. “Do you think it’ll heal?”

“It will,” I said. “It just needs time. Does it hurt to breathe?”

“Only if I take a big breath.”

“I’ll get some cream for the bruise,” I said abruptly, guilt flooding me. Why hadn’t we done this already?

I fetched the arnica, then froze with it in my hands.

How was I meant to do this?

Her gaze flicked to the jar in my hand and back to my face, not with suspicion, but like she was bracing herself for something.

Her eyes were so blue up close. Her hair had auburn streaks I hadn’t noticed before. I swallowed. My hands looked massive, dangerous, next to her delicate skin.

Connor cleared his throat. I turned.

“Could you do it?” I asked him. “You’re gentler than me.”

He gave me a look I couldn’t read, but took the jar.

She lifted her shirt again. Connor leaned in, careful, smoothing the cream across her bruised ribs with light fingers. She watched him. Trusting, despite everything. Still.

I should’ve felt jealous.

But all I felt was awe. Her scent. Her skin. Her nearness.

She looked at me, and the jolt that went through me was pure electricity: playground slide, heart-in-your-throat, static-snap energy.

“You should rest,” I said. “Your body’s working hard to heal.”

Then I turned and walked out, up the stairs—too fast, too abrupt.

But I couldn’t stay. Not when every part of me was unravelling. I’d say something I couldn’t take back if I waited any longer.