Fiona's POV
I never meant to intrude at all. Honestly. I just wanted to slip away for a little while. Wanted to escape the whispers that clung like vines. The eyes that never seemed to blink. Yet, somehow, here I stood, staring at a door I could have sworn hadn’t been there before.
I pushed it open. Foolish. Curious. Both.
The scent hit first. Warm, soft, grounding—wool, dried herbs, lavender. Light poured in through high windows, catching on threads that stretched and danced in quiet harmony. Women moved in silence, their hands busy, their weaving looms humming softly. Not a single one noticed me.
Except her.
Luna Marella.
Only hours ago, I'd heard Alpha Roan mentioning her to Asher—how she’d be locked away in the weaving hall all weekend. Asher just laughed, let her be. Maybe that
