Chapter 100

Lauren

That night was cold. The house, the air, even the silence between us—cold. Most of all, the words we weren’t saying chilled more than the ones we did.

We slept in separate rooms after the rogues left, the weight of their visit settling over the house like frost.

Theo was that rogue’s son. And Alexander—he knew that man. Knew him well enough to stay quiet, to keep whatever truth he held locked away.

I couldn’t blame him. It’s not like I was an open book either.

Sleep didn’t come easy in those cold sheets but eventually, the void grabbed me, violently.

The dream came like a hand around my throat, curling around me like mist. One moment, I was sinking into restless sleep, the next, I was standing in an endless silver forest, bathed in a glow that had no source. The air shimmered, heavy with something ancient, something watching. My breath curled in the cold as I looked around.

Dreams always felt so wishy washy, like you were there but you weren’t. But my breath sucked in far to fast when I saw it.

The white wolf emerging from the trees, silent as a shadow. Massive, its fur glowed like moonlight on snow, its green eyes cutting through the darkness. Two black dots rested beneath each eye, mirroring mine, my daughters.

I swallowed hard. “You again.”

The Goddess—because that’s who she was, wasn’t she?—tilted her head, amusement flickering in her too-human gaze. “You make it sound like a burden.”

I clenched my fists as she appreached, cutting right to the point. “Why am I here again? Why me? My daughter?”

“Ah.” Her tails flicked, slow and deliberate. “That’s always the question, isn’t it?”

She moved closer, and I forced myself to stand my ground. Even knowing this was a dream, my body screamed at me to bow, to submit to something far beyond me.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I said, voice tight. “I didn’t ask to be bound to Liam’s commands. I didn’t ask for these marks of yours, for—”

“For the wild to touch you?” The Goddess’s voice was like a winter wind, soft but sharp enough to cut. “You did that to yourself, girl.”

I bristled. “I listened to Liam. I didn’t know what would happen.”

“Yet it happened.” She stepped around me, slow and patient, a predator sizing up something foolish. “You mortals love to blame the gods for your own naivety. I didn’t force your hand, nor did I whisper in your ear. I only enforce the rules of the wild that you decided to poke.”

“Rules?” I snapped. “What rules? Because from where I’m standing, they seem pretty damn unfair.”

The Goddess laughed, a sound like rustling leaves and distant howls. “Fairness. What a childish notion. Nature does not deal in fairness, only in consequence. It is unpredictable, untamed. You were a fool for thinking otherwise.”

Anger curled in my chest, hot and tight. “I just wanted to be strong enough. Protect who I love.”

She leaned in, those emerald eyes gleaming. “You are strong enough. You always were. But you let a man influence you that you weren’t. How foolish.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “And what’s wrong with men?”

The Goddess scoffed, flicking her ears. “Alphas. Males. Always forcing their way to the top, ruling the mortal realm as if they own it. But who is the mother of the wild? Who births the wolves? Who carries the blood? Women are nature. Men—religion, laws, civilization—they only seek to control what they will never create. They resent it.”

I frowned. “That’s—”

“The truth.” She sighed, shaking out her thick coat. “But that is not why you’re here, is it?”

My chest ached. “My daughter.”

The words barely left my lips before the Goddess’s gaze sharpened. I pushed forward, desperate. “Why didn’t she transform? That’s what that pool was meant to do right? She has your mark—”

“And you assume strength must always take the same shape.” She huffed. “Your bloodline, the Lyan, is stronger than you think. But strength does not always roar. It does not always shift beneath a full moon. Some things run deeper.”

I shook my head. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is the only answer I will give.”

I grit my teeth. “You blessed me. Why?”

Her tails flicked, and for the first time, something almost like fondness softened her face. “You are mine, Lauren. As is your daughter. You should be grateful.”

Grateful. For being bound, for the mark that made me a pawn. I glared at her, but she only watched me, calm and unmovable as the stars.

“So you hate men, yet give one control over me,” I said, voice low. “You curse my daughter and I with you’re blessing, yet we have no idea what it is. Mine isn’t like hers, why do we differ. Who are we really?”

The Goddess’s lips curled into something not quite a smile. “You ask a lot of me you know.”

“Do I?” I scoffed, “Yet you do nothing. Answer nothing.”

“Nothing?” She almost mocked, like a mother to a silly pup. “You asked me to save your daughter that night, and I did.”

Cold fingers crept up my spine. “What?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “If it hadn’t been for me, she would have died that night. That ceremony she performed—what a reckless, naive thing. It was no transformation spell, girl. It was a pup-ender. Abigail, you call her, was meant to die at that spring, my powers to strong for her. But I took pity. Her life is now blessed with some of my energy to live on. You both have my blessing, but for different reasons.”

My blood ran ice-cold. “So… it was posion… in a way.”

“I don’t know who led her there, but it wasn’t for anything good.” Her gaze darkened, ears pinning back. “My shrine is my blood. Not a game for pre-wolven children to play with.”

I staggered back, my stomach twisting. My daughter had been led into something dangerous—something meant to kill her. And I hadn’t known. Theo. That boy… had he known? Or just foolish?

I forced myself to breathe, to push past the panic clawing at my ribs. “The rogues,” I rasped. “Do we have anything to do with them returning?”

The Goddess’s expression was unreadable. “I know all things—past, present, future. But mortals?” She exhaled, long and slow. “Mortals must simply live. That is the rule.”

I let out an exasperated breath, “So, in short you know but won’t tell me.”

The dream trembled, the silver forest fading at the edges. I reached for the Goddess, desperate for something solid, for one final answer. “Wait—”

Her green eyes met mine, ageless, knowing. “Wake up, Lauren.”

The world shattered.

I jolted upright in bed, gasping. My skin was slick with sweat, my breath ragged. For a long moment, I just sat there, heart hammering, the Goddess’s words echoing in my skull.

A action meant to kill my daughter.

A trap I hadn’t seen coming.

A war I might not be able to stop.

All over some blood I never wanted.

I swallowed hard and slipped out of bed. Dawn was breaking outside the window, but there would be no peace today.