The moon hung in silence over Ashridge, a quiet silver sliver against the sky — not whole, not gone, just watching.
The second heartbeat was gone.
But Evelyn knew that didn't mean it was over.
It meant something deeper had awakened.
She sat curled on the wooden bench near the window, wrapped in a blanket she didn't remember pulling over herself. The fire had died hours ago, but a strange warmth still lingered under her skin. Her pulse was steady — her own again. And yet… there was something new in her bones. Something ancient. Like her body remembered another life and hadn't yet decided if it would return.
Lucian sat across the room in the shadows, unmoving. He hadn't said a word since they returned from the chamber beneath the woods. He didn't need to.
They were both waiting.
But for what, neither could say.
⸻
Outside, the woods of Ashridge breathed slowly. The trees no longer whispered warnings. No wolves paced the border. Even the rogues, for now, had gone quiet.
Because somewhere beyond the ridge, Moren had stopped.
And he was listening.
⸻
Evelyn closed her eyes.
A soft ache bloomed behind her ribs. Not pain — memory. Her own. Elhera's. It was impossible to tell the difference now.
She didn't feel possessed. She felt layered. Like she'd lived before and never been told.
And now, the bond that had once pulsed like a second drumbeat inside her was gone — but not severed.
It had settled.
It remembered something she hadn't.
Something she needed.
⸻
Lucian stood and walked to the window, not facing her.
He didn't know what to say. For the first time in years, the Alpha didn't have control — not over the threat, not over his instincts, not even over his own thoughts.
Evelyn was still Evelyn.
But something inside her wasn't.
And his wolf — the part of him he trusted most — wanted to get closer anyway.
He gripped the windowsill, trying to steady the pull in his chest.
⸻
Later, Evelyn stepped outside.
The air was cool, edged with frost that hadn't quite reached the ground. Her breath steamed in the moonlight. Above her, clouds drifted slowly, covering the stars but not the moon. That sliver of silver still shone through.
It reminded her of a smile she couldn't remember.
She closed her eyes.
And it hit her again — that invisible thread pulling her toward a name she hadn't spoken aloud until last night.
Moren.
A name that tasted like a promise.
And a betrayal.
⸻
Lucian had shifted.
He ran through the trees, paws pounding over damp earth, heart thundering faster than his thoughts could keep up. He wasn't chasing anything. He wasn't fleeing either.
He was searching — for a silence that didn't feel like her.
The moment Evelyn had spoken Moren's name, something inside Lucian had cracked. Not jealousy. Not fear. Something more primal than both.
Instinct.
Because even if she didn't remember what Moren had done… Lucian's wolf remembered the stories.
And none of them ended well.
⸻
Evelyn stayed on the porch long after Lucian left.
Her hands trembled slightly, though not from the cold.
Because tonight, for the first time, she felt watched. Not by him. Not by the pack. Not even by Elhera.
But by something else.
A bond.
A memory.
A vow.
⸻
She went to bed just before sunrise, sleep finally dragging her under like a tide.
And when the dreams came, they weren't hers.
⸻
She stood on a stone ledge above a battlefield soaked in firelight. Wolves howled below. Smoke curled through broken towers.
A man knelt at her feet — tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like dark iron and a voice full of sorrow.
"You were never meant to be theirs," he said.
She — Elhera — looked down at him, bleeding from her side, eyes ablaze.
"They'll destroy the bond if they find us."
He reached for her hand.
"Then let them try."
She didn't kiss him.
But she touched his heart.
And it glowed.
A mark burned into his skin. Her crest. A crescent moon wrapped in flame.
And then—
She fell.
The dagger.
The betrayal.
⸻
Evelyn woke with a gasp, sheets tangled, skin damp.
Lucian stood in the doorway, unshifted now, his hair messy and shirt clinging to his chest.
He didn't ask what she saw.
He didn't need to.
"It's not just remembering," she whispered, voice raw. "It's reliving."
Lucian crossed the room slowly. "Are you still you?"
She met his eyes.
"Yes," she said. "But I think she wanted me to remember that pain."
Lucian didn't speak.
Because deep down, he feared why.
⸻
Meanwhile, far beyond Ashridge, Moren stood atop a crumbling stone altar, eyes glowing in the half-light of the rising moon. A fire crackled at his back. A pack of rogues bowed at his feet.
"She remembers me," he said aloud.
He turned to the shadows behind him.
"And when I reach her… she will remember everything."
⸻
That night, Evelyn couldn't sleep.
Not because of fear — but because her soul felt split.
One part whispered that Lucian made her feel safe.
The other told her that Moren once made her feel invincible.
And the bond?
It remembered both.
⸻
Lucian stayed awake too.
He watched the woods. Watched the wind.
And when the trees began to sway without sound…
He knew they were no longer alone.