⭐ CHAPTER 1 — ❄️ Christmas Eve — The Night Everything Shattered ❄️
1539 Words
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Ember’s POV
I never imagined the night I planned to propose would be the same night everything inside me broke.
The Christmas lights outside Kieran’s packhouse window glowed soft red and gold, flickering across the snow like the Moon Goddess had painted the world for this one moment. My palms were sweating as I held the little velvet box tighter in my hand.
I’d rehearsed the words all day.
“I choose you. Every day. Every winter. Every lifetime.”
It was supposed to be perfect.
It was supposed to be the best Christmas of my life.
Instead… it ruined me.
I pushed open his bedroom door with my heart pounding inside my chest like a trapped animal trying to get free.
“Kieran?” I whispered, smiling nervously. “I have a surprise—”
The sentence died.
Because he wasn’t alone.
And the soft sounds in the room were wrong.
My breath caught in my throat as I realized what I was seeing.
Her hair first.
Long. Blonde. Familiar.
Then the sound — a soft, breathy moan that belonged to a woman I once called sister.
Aria.
Her back arched against Kieran’s half-naked chest as his mouth moved along her neck, his hands gripping her hips like he couldn’t get enough of her.
For a moment my brain refused to understand.
Refused to process.
Then Aria’s voice—Aria’s—whimpered, “Kieran… don’t stop…”
And the world cracked open.
The velvet box slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud that echoed louder than thunder in my ears.
Kieran jerked his head toward me, annoyance crossing his face—not guilt. Not shock.
Just irritation.
“Ember.” He sighed like I was an inconvenience. “This is not what it looks like.”
Aria’s smirk said otherwise.
I heard myself whisper, “You were my best friend.”
Aria shrugged. “Well… mistakes happen.”
Kieran didn’t even pretend to care.
And that was what killed me.
Not the cheating.
Not the betrayal.
Not even the fact that they were touching like I never existed—
But the coldness.
The ice.
He looked at me like I was nothing.
“Ember, let me be honest,” he said, voice flat. “You’re sweet. But you’re weak. You’re not Luna material. I was never going to choose you.”
Something inside me shattered so violently I felt the break physically.
The tears I fought spilled hot down my cheeks, but I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t exist in that room one more second.
I turned blindly and stumbled out into the hallway, the warm golden lights blurring with my tears.
I didn’t remember leaving the packhouse.
I didn’t remember getting into the cold air.
I barely felt the snow on my cheeks as I walked.
All I heard was that velvet box hitting the floor.
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I don’t know how long I walked.
Minutes.
Hours.
Or maybe only seconds.
All I knew was that at some point, music replaced the sound of my heartbeat.
Heavy bass.
Low laughter.
Clinking glasses.
A nightclub.
Christmas-themed, bright with red velvet and artificial snow swirling under strobe lights.
I pushed inside, trembling.
The smells hit me immediately — cinnamon, whiskey, pine, and wolf pheromones thick in the air.
I slid onto a barstool.
“Whiskey,” I muttered. “Strong.”
The bartender took one look at me and poured it without question.
I downed it in one swallow. It burned, but the pain felt good. Like it cleared the nausea of betrayal for a moment.
“One more.”
Then another.
I didn’t know how many I had before the room softened and my thoughts blurred into warm, humming static.
I just knew I wasn’t alone at the bar anymore.
A tall figure sat beside me.
Broad shoulders beneath a dark coat.
A deep, masculine scent — pine and smoke and something powerful.
A presence that made the air go still.
Even drunk, my breath caught.
I turned my head slowly.
And my heart stuttered.
He was… beautiful.
Older, yes.
But in a way that made youth look weak.
Strong jaw, light stubble, wide chest, long fingers resting on a glass of dark liquor.
Eyes like winter storms — silver, sharp, and unsettlingly focused on me.
“You look like you’re trying to drink your soul out of your body,” he said.
His voice—
Low. Deep. Smooth.
Dominant.
My pulse thudded.
“I just…” My throat tightened. “Had my heart torn out.”
He studied me — really studied me — with a gaze that made me feel bare.
“Who hurt you?” he asked quietly.
“My mate.” I laughed hollowly. “My ex-mate. And my best friend.”
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
Not pity.
Something darker.
Possessive.
Sharp.
“And you’re here alone?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked. “I just—wanted to forget.”
His breath stirred the air between us.
“You don’t look like someone meant to be forgotten.”
My heart skipped.
The alcohol.
The pain.
His voice.
It all tangled, dizzying.
I laughed weakly. “I was actually going to propose tonight.”
“Proposal?” His brows lifted. “To the i***t who broke you?”
“Yes.” My voice was thin. “I even had a ring.”
He leaned closer. “Do you still have it?”
I nodded and pulled it from my coat pocket. The tiny diamond trembling between my fingers.
He extended his hand, palm up, silently asking to see it.
I placed it into his palm.
His fingers closed around it, warm and rough.
Then—
As I watched, drunk and trembling—
He slipped the ring onto his own finger.
My lips parted. “What—what are you doing?”
He looked straight into my eyes.
“You wanted to propose,” he said softly. “And I accept.”
I blinked, stunned.
Then a laugh tore from my throat. “You’re crazy.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m decisive.”
My breath caught. Heat shot through my body so fast my knees trembled.
“What’s your name?” I whispered.
He smiled slightly — a dangerous smile.
“Magnus.”
The world spun.
Strong arms caught me before I slipped from the stool.
“Easy,” he murmured, lifting me against his chest like I weighed nothing. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”
“Where?” I whispered.
“Home.”
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Magnus’s POV
Just for a moment — to capture the moment the bond shifts.
She felt small in my arms.
Warm.
Heartbroken.
Beautiful.
And mine.
Not because of a drunken proposal.
Not because of a ring.
But because the moment I touched her, something ancient shifted inside my chest.
Something I thought died with my mate.
I held her closer, breathing in her scent — soft vanilla, winter air, and a hint of wildness.
The car door closed behind us.
She curled against me, eyes half-closed.
“Why did you say yes?” she whispered.
I brushed my thumb along her jaw.
“Because,” I murmured, “you made me feel something I haven’t felt in years.”
Her breath hitched.
“What… what’s that?”
“Alive.”
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Ember’s POV
I don't remember falling asleep.
Not really.
Just the warmth of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the feeling of safety I shouldn’t have felt with a stranger.
Then…
A bed.
A soft, massive bed.
Silk sheets.
A room that smelled like pine and power.
My head throbbed as morning sunlight brushed my face.
I groaned softly and pushed myself up.
And that’s when I froze.
I wasn’t wearing the clothes from last night.
And beside me — on the pillow — lay the velvet box.
My ring.
On his nightstand.
On his finger.
And that empty spot on the bed?
Warm.
My heart slammed.
“Oh Goddess…”
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
Magnus stood there.
Tall.
Bare-chested.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
His eyes moved slowly from my tangled hair to the sheet clutched in my hands.
His jaw tightened — not with anger.
With hunger.
And the memory hit me like a flash of heat.
His mouth on mine.
My hands on his shoulders.
My voice whispering his name—
His body above mine—
No… no no—
I had been drunk.
We had—
Magnus’s voice cut through the haze, low and certain:
“Good morning, Ember.”
My heart stopped.
Not because of his voice.
Not because of the way he said my name.
But because of the voice behind him—
“K—Kieran?” I choked.
He stepped into view.
Frozen.
Staring.
Terrified.
Because he wasn’t looking at me.
He was looking at Magnus.
Looking at the man who brought me home.
Looking at the man whose bed I was in.
Looking at the ring on Magnus’s finger.
And then—
He whispered a single word that shattered the world all over again:
“…Dad?”
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- Writer
