Page 22

Aurora.

The city lights stretch before me as I pull into our driveway, the familiar sight of our small but cozy home offering a strange sense of comfort and displacement all at once.The journey back was a quiet one. Ronan had barely said a word since we left the Blackwood Pack's territory, his usual energy dulled by something heavier, something unspoken. I knew exactly what it was. He spent the entire drive wearing a long face and staring out the window. He didn't even touch the grilled chicken I packed for him.I cut the engine and turn to face him. He is sitting in the back seat, his small hands gripping the edges of his booster seat, his eyes fixed on both in particular. His whole demeanor saddens me.

"We're home," I announce in a sing-song voice, but I don't get the excitement I expect.

Ronan blinks as if coming back to the present and nods. But there is no excitement, no rush to unbuckle himself and race inside like he usually would.

I swallow hard, reaching back to brush his soft curls. "Ronan," I begin, choosing my words carefully, "do you want to call Uncle Lucien?"

His face lights up, bright and hopeful in a way that both warms and tears me apart. "Can I?"

"Of course, darling," I say, forcing a small smile. "Go ahead."

I dial Lucien's number and hand him the phone before stepping out of the car, but not before I catch the excitement in his voice when he says hi.

"Hi, Uncle Lucien."

I can't hear Lucien's response, but I can feel it—the deep timbre of his voice, the warmth it always carries when he speaks to Ronan. I wrap my arms around myself and lean against the car, staring up at the sky.I stepped out to give Ronan the feeling of privacy, but the curious part of me cracked a window open.It is clear tonight, and the stars are scattered like tiny pinpricks of light, much like they had been in Blackwood.

Blackwood.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss it.

The realization hit me hard, pressing against my chest with an unexpected weight. I had spent years building a life away from the pack, convincing myself that I had moved on. But the days we spent there, the quiet moments, the way Ronan had fit so seamlessly among them—it had felt right. More right than I want to admit.

And then, there was Lucien.

I close my eyes, remembering the conversation I had overheard between him and Selene—the honesty in his voice, the regret, and the longing. He hadn't wanted that marriage. He is really sorry, and he wants to make amends. He never wanted anyone but me.

But is that enough? Does that cover all the years and the way he treated me? Can I ever forgive him for the nights I slept on the street, or the night I went into labor and was scared shitless.

Where was he when Ronan was teething and ran a fever so high he got seizures? My eyes prickled with tears at the memories of the horrendous times. I don't know how I'm supposed to just push it all behind me.

The front door creaks open behind me. "Mom, he wants to talk to you."

I hesitate for a moment, clearing my throat to dislodge the knot in my chest before taking the phone. "Lucien."

"Aurora."

His voice is strained, like he's holding back what he actually wants to say.

"Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, "For being there for him."

"You don't have to thank me, Rora. He's my son. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him."

His words send a shiver through me, but before I can respond, a knock on the door interrupts the moment. I turn, frowning. It is late for visitors.

"I have to go," I murmur.

Lucien sighs. "Is everything alright? With Ronan and the house. Did you find everything just how you left it?"

"Yes. Everything is fine." I replied, feeling the sudden need to end the conversation. Having him all caring and possessive messes with my head. "Goodnight, Lucien."

I think he gets the message because he makes no further effort to engage me in a conversation. "Goodnight, Aurora."My demeanor may be cold, but one of the reasons I returned to the city is to clear my head and give myself space to think away from his influence. That won't work if I spend long hours on the phone with him and let him take care of stuff."

I end the call and open the door to find Damon standing on the other side, hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face. How did he know I was home?

"Damon," I said cautiously. "It's late."

"I know." He steps inside without waiting for an invitation. "But I needed to talk to you."

I shut the door and cross my arms. "About?"

His expression sobers. "Lucien."

I stiffen, wrapping my arm tighter around myself. "What about him?"

Damon sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Aurora, I know you think he's changed and that he regrets what he did to you. And maybe he does. But that doesn't change the fact that Blackwood is dangerous. You and Ronan being there—it puts you both at risk."

I frown. "Lucien would never let anything happen to us."

"Maybe not intentionally," Damon admits. "But there are forces at play bigger than him. Silver Pack, rival alphas—there are people who would use you to get to him. And you know what happens to people caught in the crossfire."

My stomach twists into horrible knots. He isn't wrong. The world of shifters is brutal, and alliances shift like the tide. But something about the way Damon spoke made me uneasy as if his concern ran deeper than just politics.

I study him, my eyes tracing the outline of his features. His hands are still buried in his pockets, his shoulders are tense, and his eyes are a bit shifty. "This isn't just about Blackwood, is it?"His jaw tightens, and his eyes shift, again. "No."The air between us thickens, and I know what is coming before he even says it."I care about you, Aurora." His voice is softer, less certain. "I always have."I exhale slowly, closing my eyes for a brief moment. "Damon—""Just hear me out," he cuts in, his breath coming out in shallow pants. "You deserve better than a man who let you walk away. Who let you suffer alone for years? I would never do that to you."

Pain twists in my chest. I know Damon means well, but he doesn't understand. Things have become a lot more complicated than they were before Blackwood.

Ronan is attached now. He has known Damon for a greater part of his life, but he never formed a bond like he did with Lucien, and I don't want to deprive him of that. Maybe it's not just Ronan I don't want to deprive of something.

"I can't, Damon," I say gently. "You're my friend, and I don't want to lose that."

His face darkened slightly. "I'll give you some time to think about it."

"I don't need to think about it, Damon. I don't want to give you hope."

"Well, I'm asking you to." His tone is sharp, causing me to wince a little.

"I'm sorry about that," he says in a softer tone. "I can't stomach the thought of you getting hurt again.""I understand, and I'm grateful to you for looking out for me, but I have to do this my way."He stares at me for a moment, a look I can't describe crossing his eyes before it's quickly replaced by a smile. "I understand."But I am not sure he does.

After Damon leaves, I stand in the living room, staring at nothing. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions pulling me in different directions. Lucien. Damon. Blackwood. Ronan.

And then, as if the answer had been there all along, it came to me.

The Blackwood Pack had raised me and given me a home when I had none. The elders and the warriors, even the ones who had once doubted me—they had all played a role in shaping the person I have become. And despite everything, despite the pain and the betrayals, they had accepted Ronan without hesitation.

I couldn't just walk away from that.

I wouldn't.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my phone and pull up Lucien's number. My finger hovers over the call button for a long moment before I finally press it.

He answered on the first ring. "Aurora?"

I close my eyes, gathering my resolve. "I want to help."

Silence. Then, carefully, he replies, "Help with what?"

"The pack," I say. "I want to help the pack."

Lucien exhales slowly, and when he speaks again, there is something almost reverent in his voice. "Aurora, I can't let you get involved in this."

"I'm already involved, Lucien. It's my pack. Blackwood raised me and accepted my son without—"

"Our son," he cuts in, but I ignore him, continuing with my speech. "Without questions. If Blackwood is gone, Ronan won't have a home pack."

"Is that the only reason you want in? To give Ronan community?"I don't answer the question. The answer is one I'd rather not confront at the moment. "I just want to give back to the pack that raised me, Lucien."

He goes silent for a beat before replying. "Fine. You'll help, but no combat for you, and I want you and Ronan far before the war starts."

"Lucien, that's—"

"That's the only way it's going to happen, Rora. I'm not losing you, and I sure as hell not going to let anything happen to my son."

His voice carries a tone of finality, and I know this is the most I'm going to get from him. "Fine."

I wasn't sure of many things.

But of this? Of giving back to the place that had once been my home?

Of that much, I am certain. I'm not one to ask for favors or be indebted to people, but certain situations require you to go all out, so I reach for my phone and pull up the one contact I can trust in moments like this.