POV: Francesca
Sleep would not come. I lay in the narrow bed, staring into the darkness while the castle breathed around me.
Every sound—the wind along stone, distant footsteps, the low crack of cooling embers—felt too sharp. My body was exhausted, yet my heart refused to rest. Grief sat heavy in my chest, familiar and relentless.
Luka. My son’s name lived inside me like both prayer and wound.
Five years had passed, and still I woke up at nights with the phantom weight of him in my arms. I remembered the warmth of his small body, the sound of his first cry, the way Cassian’s men had taken him as if he were property. I had not seen him since.
Rumors reached me sometimes. Whispers of a golden-eyed heir. A dark-haired boy hidden when danger approached.
Nothing solid and nothing I could grasp. It was not enough.
After speaking with Kyle, confusion had settled over me like fog. He knew. Somehow, he knew about my son. My secret was no longer safe, no longer mine alone to protect. And if Kyle knew, it was only a matter of time before Wilhelm began to notice the truth hiding in all the empty spaces between us.
How could Wilhelm help me if he didn’t know about Luka?
How could I explain that I wanted to return to the very kingdom that had destroyed me? That I wanted to walk back into Cassian’s grasp—not for power or vengeance, but for a child Wilhelm didn’t even know existed?
I sat up slowly, drawing my knees close. Cassian’s decree still stood: I was cursed, expelled, to be killed on sight if I returned. The same fate awaited Wilhelm. Yet every part of me leaned toward that danger as if it were the only path left.
If I stayed here, Kyle would force my hand and my secret would become leverage. If I stayed, Wilhelm would go to war without knowing his son was being held by his enemy.
I closed my eyes, breathing through the ache. I had waited years. No miracle had returned my child, and no fate had intervened.
So I would.
I rose, dressed quietly, and pulled a dark cloak around my shoulders. Every movement felt final. I would leave before dawn and I would return alone. I didn’t know how but I would find Luka. Even if I died trying.
I slipped into the corridor, moving silently along the stone walls. The castle slept, and guards dozed at their posts. The stairwell was only a short distance away.
Then the bond tightened. Not pain—pressure. A pull that began deep in my chest and spread through my veins, warm and insistent.
I froze, gripping the stone for balance. No! Not now.
I tried to move forward, but the pull only grew stronger, dragging me in the opposite direction. Along with it came sensations I couldn’t shut out: Wilhelm’s restless wakefulness, his frustration, his longing. The bond flooded me with his presence until my resolve wavered.
My steps slowed. Then turned.
Anger flared at myself, fate, and every invisible chain binding me to him when I was trying to be strong. But my body moved before my mind finished arguing. I followed the pull until I stood outside Wilhelm’s chamber.
The door opened almost immediately.
Wilhelm stood there as if he’d been waiting, hair loose, shirt unlaced, golden eyes locking onto mine with raw intensity. Relief crossed his face before he could hide it.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said quietly.
“Neither could I,” he replied. His gaze dropped to my cloak and boots. “Where were you going?”
“Nowhere,” I lied.
He studied me, then stepped aside. “Come in.”
The door closed behind me, and the bond surged, wrapping around my senses until the rest of the world faded. Wilhelm reached for me carefully, as if afraid I might break.
“Talk to me,” he murmured. “Tell me what’s tearing you apart.”
I should have told him everything. Instead, I shook my head, tears blurring my vision.
Wilhelm exhaled, then rested his forehead against mine. “If you can’t speak it,” he said softly, “let me hold you.”
I nodded once, helpless. His mouth found mine, and I melted into him.
The kiss was deep and urgent, as if he had been starving. I clung to his shoulders, trembling, and he lifted me easily, carrying me toward the bed as if I weighed nothing. The candlelight flickered across his face, across the sharp line of his jaw, across the intensity in his eyes.
His hands were everywhere without being rough—pulling my cloak away, unfastening my dress with practiced care, as if he knew the difference between desire and taking. He kissed my throat, the place where his mark had faded to a pale memory over the years.
Then his fangs grazed my skin.
I gasped, clutching at him. “Wilhelm—”
“I need you,” he murmured, voice low and raw. “Tonight. Just tonight.”
My chest heaved. “Then take me.”
He did—slowly at first, reverently, as if worship and hunger could be the same thing. The bed creaked softly beneath us. The world narrowed to breath and warmth and the bond pulsing gold-hot between our bodies. I lost myself in him because it was easier than facing dawn.
When Wilhelm bit my neck again, the mark burned fresh and bright, sealing over skin that had never truly forgotten him. I cried out, eyes squeezing shut, and something inside me snapped awake.
My vision flared. Not red—like the first time. Yellow.
A bright, fierce gold that flooded my sight from within, and for one terrifying moment, I heard it.
A voice. Low and female, inside my bones, like a wolf stretching after a long sleep.
Mine, it murmured.
My breath caught as my body shuddered, and I forced my eyes open quickly, blinking hard until the glow faded. I buried my face against Wilhelm’s shoulder before he could see anything strange.
“Francesca?” he breathed, concerned.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, lying smoothly. “Just… overwhelmed.”
He kissed my temple, satisfied, protective, and pulled me closer as if he could shield me from every nightmare if he held me tightly enough.
I lay awake long after he fell asleep, staring into the dimness. My inner wolf had spoken. After all these years of emptiness and silence, she had finally answered me—and she had sounded… strong.
I should have felt joy. Instead, fear settled in my belly like lead, because strength meant change, and change meant I might no longer be able to hide what I carried.
At dawn, while the castle still slept, I slipped from Wilhelm’s arms.
His face was peaceful, unaware. I touched his cheek once, lightly, the way one might touch a memory they cannot keep.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Then I dressed, gathered what little I could carry, and left without looking back. The bond tugged at me all the way down the corridor, pleading, furious, wounded, but I kept moving.
My steps felt steadier than they had in years.
I was not the broken girl Cassian had owned. I was a mother. And now, with something fierce stirring inside my blood, I felt strong enough to return to the castle—strong enough to take my son away.