Ava Galliano: The Last Dark Queen

The Wolf Queen

“Please, no, not my little girl.”

“Mummy.”

“You were warned, Mother. Now she has to die.”

“No, please, son, don’t do this. Charles, please, do something.”

“I’m sorry, my love, but this must be done.”

“Mummy, no…”

Isa jerked awake, her body stiff and trembling. She gasped, the remnants of the nightmare clinging to her mind like cobwebs. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the vivid images that still lingered in the edges of her vision. The nightmares were relentless lately—always filled with blood, violence, and faces she couldn’t quite place. They weren’t memories, not hers anyway, but they felt too real for comfort. Unfamiliar voices, unrecognizable faces—they seemed to fill the empty spaces in her mind, pushing against the walls of the web she had so carefully constructed.

She sighed shakily, pushing herself out of bed and wrapping a robe around her shoulders, the cold of the early morning air biting at her skin. The chill only made the emptiness inside her grow. It had been two years since her wedding to Marcus, two years of playing the doting Luna, the role her father demanded of her. But it wasn’t a role Isa was suited for. She had always been the shadow, the one who caused destruction and chaos from the corners of the world, not the one who smiled and played nice. Pretending to be someone else was becoming more taxing by the day. And now, with her memories slowly returning—slipping back in pieces, like fragments of broken glass—the role felt even more suffocating.

She walked toward the window, slowly drawing the curtain open. Dawn's first light crept in, casting soft golden rays across the room, but it did little to ease the storm in her mind. Isa didn’t want to face the day. She didn’t want to face the life she had been forced into. She had to stay at the pack house after the wedding, a decision she had convinced Charles was necessary to keep the peace, to maintain the treaties. But there was no peace for her here. Lady Priscilla hated the arrangement—Isa knew that—and honestly, so did Isa. Yet, returning home wasn’t an option either. Being under Dani Bellvile’s thumb in the council was a fate worse than the one she was currently enduring.

As much as she hated it, she couldn't leave. Not yet.

The door creaked open, and Isa heard Marcus’s voice from the bed. “Stop thinking so loud, it’s making it hard to stay asleep.”

Isa looked over her shoulder and saw him sitting up, running a hand through his messy hair. His presence was an anchor, but also a reminder of everything she was trying to avoid. Despite everything, she couldn’t deny that there was a part of her that still clung to him. But she wasn’t sure how long that part would remain, not with the way her mind was unraveling, and certainly not with the weight of her father's expectations pressing down on her every day.

“Go back to bed,” Isa murmured, trying to hide the bitterness in her voice. “It’s far too early for you to be awake.”

Marcus’s lips curled into a lazy, teasing smile. “Come back to bed.”

Isa gave him a sad smile but didn’t return to him immediately. Her eyes drifted back to the rising sun, the orange and pink hues lighting up the sky. It was a beautiful sight, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself be distracted by its simplicity. She closed the curtains, plunging the room back into darkness, before crawling back into the bed beside Marcus. He kissed the top of her head, his hands gently tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer.

Neither of them would sleep again. Not now.

“What are you thinking about?” Marcus asked softly, his voice thick with sleep.

Isa paused, hesitating before she spoke. “Do you remember what you said to me just before I left with my father?”

His hand stilled in her hair. “I do. Do you?”

Isa nodded slowly. “Yes. Bits and pieces of it have been returning to me. Although not the bits I want back.”

Marcus tensed, and for a moment, there was silence between them. His mind worked over her words, searching for something he might have missed. “How? I didn’t think you were strong enough to release yourself.”

Isa let out a small laugh, a bitter edge to it. “I’m not. I met a human with incredible power. I would have loved to get more out of her, but she is no longer on this plane.” Her gaze met his then, her eyes searching his face. “Do you still think what you said to me was true?”

Marcus’s breath caught. He stopped playing with her hair, and his body tensed as he turned on his back, pulling her closer. The vulnerability in her question hit him harder than he expected. His mind swirled with the memory of what he had said to her—what had driven them apart. He had been angry, blind, and not just at her, but at the situation they were both in.

“Why are you asking about this now?” he said quietly, almost as if afraid to hear the answer.

Isa frowned, sitting up in bed, her expression hardening. “I trusted you, Marcus. You said you would come for me, explain everything, but you didn’t. I had to figure everything out on my own. I mean, I might not have remembered who you were, but you didn’t come for me.”

Her words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. They sliced through the space between them, making it impossible for Marcus to ignore the truth of what she was saying. He had failed her. She had trusted him, and he had turned away.

“Isa,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We’ve known each other for years. We’ve had so many discussions—council rooms, private dinners. You don’t remember any of that?”

Isa blinked, confused. “What?”

He sat up fully now, his gaze intense. “I taught you how to control your wolf when the council men made sexist remarks. I sat at the table with you and your father on holidays. We weren’t strangers, Isa.”

The words crashed over her like a wave. The confusion in her eyes deepened. She had believed those years were gone, erased, but here Marcus was, talking about things that felt as distant as her own life before the wipe. Charles had done so many memory wipes on her, Isa had lost track of the time and the faces that had come and gone. But she could see the truth now. She wasn’t the person she thought she was. And Marcus wasn’t the man she had believed him to be either.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this,” Marcus said quickly, his tone shifting. “Charles would prosecute me if he ever found out I let this slip.”

Isa frowned. “How would he find out about an early morning conversation between us?”

Marcus hesitated, then sighed. “You might say something in your reports to Priscilla.”

The words were a slap to Isa’s mind. She had been so careful. Her father’s mission was her duty, and no matter what Marcus or anyone else believed, she couldn’t stray from it. But Marcus wasn’t going to let her off that easy.

“I’m not stupid, Isa,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I can smell her vanilla letters from a mile away. You’re not as good at hiding things from me as you think. I know she asked you to keep an eye on us. But I thought you would have stopped by now. It’s been two years.”

Isa’s breath caught in her throat. Two years. The mission, her father’s command—it had all led her to this moment, this confrontation.

“I was given a mission from my father, Marcus,” Isa said, her voice low but resolute. “And I know the consequences if I go against it. It’s how I was raised. A mission is a mission, no matter who is involved or what I do.”

Marcus’s expression darkened. “But this should have been different. We got married.”

Isa’s gaze hardened. “You got married to Dani Bellvile. None of this would have happened if my father knew you were here to begin with.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Isa’s voice was soft but steady, the weight of the truth settling in. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know that my father made you?”