Selene’s whispers haunted me after that night.
Evelina.
The name Jacob had finally spoken aloud, the name Selene had turned into a weapon, the ghost I would never be able to outrun.
And Selene—she knew it.
She knew more than I did, and that knowledge was a blade she was sharpening with every passing day.
The first strike came during weekly pack training.
Jacob had allowed me to sit at the edges of the field, a concession he said was for “fresh air,” though the truth was clear—I sat under the watch of two warriors, their presence a cage without bars. I held a shawl across my shoulders, cradling my stomach as I watched the younger wolves spar under the sun. Their movements were sharp, their energy fierce, their laughter free in ways mine could never be.
It should have been a peaceful
