Chapter 7
Edelweiss Hill
Alexa
Freedom. Is this what it feels like?
I draw in a slow breath as I stand on the front patio, my gaze drifting across the neatly trimmed garden stretching before the packhouse. Sunlight spills over the flowerbeds, tinting the petals with a faint violet glow, as if dusk has brushed them early with its soft fingers.
Not complete freedom. Not yet.
Only one of the two shackles that bind me like a disgraced slave has fallen away. My debt to Alpha Alastair is paid. More than that, an unspoken alliance now lingers between us, fragile as glass, forged from the resentment I carefully press into his chest against Alpha Gabriel.
Hope flickers quietly within me. I no longer owe Alastair. Still, I know the risk. If I misstep, if I falter even slightly, he could twist everything back into obligation. Into debt as another cage.
Fortunately, there is no contract. No oath. Not even a spoken promise. Only a quiet murmur that lays the blame for his losses at Gabriel’s feet.
“Lady Dawson.” The voice reaches me from behind.
I turn, brow furrowed. The title feels foreign, like a coat tailored for someone else.
All my life, nobility has meant nothing.
Pure Alpha blood means nothing when housed in a fragile body.
Even after becoming a Lycan, even with rapid regeneration humming beneath my skin, the world never treats me differently.
“What did you just call me?” I ask, a crooked smile tugging at my lips.
“Why not?” Romero approaches with measured grace. “Seems fitting, considering your place in the pack.”
“My place means little without brute strength,” I reply, lifting a shoulder. “That’s the rule around here, even if no one writes it down.”
“And what about strength of heart?” he asks lightly. “Or love? Ain’t that worth something?”
“Please.” I nudge his arm with a playful tap of my fist. “Don’t start.”
He laughs, and the sound carries warm and clear, like wind catching the old metal bells that once hung from the windmill at my father’s summer ranch. That ranch is gone now, sold to bury a million dollar debt. Even memories have price tags.
Romero steps beside me, something playful glinting in his eyes. His gaze shifts toward the garden, which looks modest compared to the sprawling grounds of the First Light Pack estate.
“Care to take a walk?” he asks. “Spotted a green hill up that way.”
“Sure.” I nod without hesitation.
As I turn, my eyes flick toward the rear corner of the yard. Harlow stands there, already preparing to follow.
“Stay back,” I command.
He freezes. His gaze flickers between my face and Romero’s. His jaw tightens, tension gathering there before he lowers his eyes and steps away. He would never challenge someone of higher rank. Never bare his fangs.
I turn forward again and deliberately slip my hand through Romero’s offered arm. “Let’s go.”
From the shelter of Romero’s broad frame, I allow myself a small smile. Behind us, Harlow lowers his head. I don’t mean to make him jealous, but he doesn’t deserve that right when he prioritizes others over me.
We walk without urgency, letting the wind choose our direction. Before long, the path rises gently beneath our feet. We arrive at Edelweiss Hill.
The land stretches wild yet carefully tended, the grass trimmed no higher than an adult’s ankle by unseen caretakers. Order disguised as wilderness.
Romero slows, his voice softening. “So this’s a graveyard. I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic spot.”
I smile faintly and step between the rolling mounds. I sit beside a gravestone, brushing my fingers over the poem carved into the smooth gray surface.
“To me, this is a picnic spot,” I say quietly. “I can talk to my parents here. Bring flowers. Sit awhile. Shame nothing’s blooming this spring.”
I pluck a blade of tall grass and pull it free from the soil.
“Ah, yes, your father was the Alpha,” he says, sitting beside me. His fingers trace the Silver Moon emblem etched at the corner of the stone.
“Yes.” My voice tightens. “And I killed him during my wolf blessing ritual.”
The words linger in the air like smoke that refuses to clear.
“I’m sorry, Alexa,” Mythril whispers within me, curling inward with guilt.
I no longer blame her. Mrs. Geeny once told me the truth, weaving her memory magic gently through the wound.
The accident rooted itself deep inside my heart long before I understood it.
But that fact made Mythril feel guilty too, humbling her to the point that she’s always saying sorry every time I think about my father.
“I’m sorry you have to go through it,” Romero says quietly.
“It was an accident,” I reply, forcing steadiness into my tone. “I’ve accepted it. In the end, my father protected me. Even from myself.”
Slowly, the memory of that full moon night rises from the depths of my mind. The breeze carries the faint scent of mint and pine, just as it did back then. I blink, suddenly aware of something hidden behind the thin crack in my consciousness, a memory long sealed but never truly gone.
“Will this hill be covered in edelweiss come summer?” Romero asks, scanning the cemetery bathed in lilac light. Even the grass seems to glow brighter beneath it.
“No,” I reply as I stand. “There’s a story behind that.”
“My father once told me this hill used to be covered in wild lupines. The common kind you see all over this region. Then there was a time when the Moon Goddess didn’t appear for nearly six months during the full moon rituals.
The lake dried up. Drought spread across the land.
The pack stood on the brink of bankruptcy.
Mrs. Geeny, our pack’s witch, dreamed that the Moon Goddess came to this very hill. ” I clasp my hands behind my back.
“In her dream, the Goddess sat beneath the old tree up here. She held a bouquet of blooming edelweiss in her hands, shining silver like a sky spilled full of stars. My father believed he had to cover this hill with edelweiss to earn her blessing back.”
“Did it work?” Romero asks gently.
I shake my head. “He imported seeds from Europe. Reworked the soil. Adjusted the drainage to mimic their natural habitat. He tried everything. A year passed, and not a single bloom appeared.”
Romero steps closer, his eyes sweeping across the quiet slopes. I loop my arm through his and rest my head lightly against his shoulder.
“One spring night, desperate and exhausted, my father came here to pray. He stayed all night. My mother was heavily pregnant with me, yet she insisted on camping beside him. Then a woman and a little boy climbed the hill. The boy had picked a blue lupine from the lakeside below.”
Romero listens without interrupting, his silence steady and respectful.
“The boy walked up to my father and handed him the flower, as if to comfort him. My father smiled for the first time in weeks. Then my mother went into labor. They rushed her down the hill to the nearest house. I was born at the foot of this hill.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Romero murmurs softly. “Your folks must’ve been stunned.”
“They were,” I answer. “That’s when my father understood. The Moon Goddess wasn’t asking for real edelweiss. She was sending a sign. My birth was the bloom she meant. After that, rain came down for a week without stopping at all, then everything went back to normal.”
The wind carries my voice across the grass, soft and almost reverent. We sit together on one of the wide stone steps. Daylight fades, and the moon slips free from behind the clouds.
“After that, the Moon Goddess returned to our rituals. Every full moon. And she granted me control over magic.” I fold my arms around myself, smiling faintly.
The night breeze moves again, slipping between us. Romero removes his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders without a word.
“Then why keep calling it Edelweiss Hill?” he asks.
“As a reminder,” I say quietly. “Not every desire gets answered the way we expect. When things fall apart, when they don’t match our plans, all we can do is try again and pray. Later, maybe years later, we finally understand what it all meant.”
I turn to face him fully. Our eyes hold. The silence stretches, thick and unbroken. I press my lips together and draw in a careful breath.
“Romero, whatever’s happening between us—”
“It’s fate,” he whispers, cutting me off.
“What?”
“This. Us meeting. The prophecy. Everything that brought us here. That’s fate.” His voice is low, certain. “We keep trying. We keep praying. One day we’ll understand why.” He takes my hand and pulls me gently into his arms.
“Yeah,” I breathe, the word slipping out with a long exhale. “You’re right.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dagger.
“Whoa, hold up. That thing sharp?” I lean back instantly, both hands lifting in front of me like they could save me if Romero suddenly decided to stab me with it. But he only laughs under his breath and shakes his head.
“This is a family heirloom.”
Slowly, Romero slides the silver dagger from its sheath. The blade is small, barely the length of a palm, but breathtakingly beautiful. Daisy carvings decorate the handle, each flower bud embedded with yellow gemstones that shimmer beneath the sunlight. Carefully, he offers the dagger to me.
“What is this?” I ask as I take it from his hand.
“It belonged to my mother. These gems are called magic gems. They strengthen the blade when energy flows through them.” His gaze settles on me quietly. “In my family, this gets passed down to our Luna.”
“Oh. Well…” My voice stumbles awkwardly as I stare at the dagger in my hand, unsure what I’m even supposed to say to that.
“I want you to keep it,” he says.
“No, Romero.” I immediately shake my head.
“C’mon. Just take it. I know you can use this dagger properly with your energy.” His voice softens. “You deserve it, even if you’re not marrying me.”
“No.” My grip tightens around the dagger before I carefully hand it back to him. “It’s your family heirloom, and I don’t have any right to keep it. You should give it to your Luna someday. She’s the one who deserves it.”
My answer is firm. I refuse to become the kind of woman who takes what doesn’t belong to her.
“Well, alright.” Romero exhales quietly, though there is still stubborn warmth lingering in his expression.
“But I’ll tell you this. Deep down, I know this dagger belongs to you somehow.
” He leans closer before lowering his voice near my ear.
“You’re still my true mate, Alexa. So when the day comes that you need it…
” His breath brushes lightly against my skin. “Promise me you’ll take it.”
His voice wraps around me like a slow-burning spell woven from patience and tenderness.
My eyes drift back toward the golden dagger.
The details are exquisite. The carvings are deep but soft, the gleaming yellow gemstones that almost seem alive beneath the light, as though they are calling for me to hold them again.
But no.
I still don’t want to accept something that isn’t mine. But Romero’s persistence has always been dangerous to my resolve.
“I promise,” I whisper with a nod before I can stop myself.
Romero smiles softly. Then he carefully slides the dagger back into its sheath and tucks it inside his pocket once more.
A moment later, Harlow’s presence flickers at the edge of my awareness. He lingers somewhere below the hill. Watching and waiting.
“We should head back,” I say, stepping away as Romero helps me to my feet. “Wouldn’t want folks starting to talk. And we still owe Alpha Gabriel a proper lesson.”
* * *
“Leave me alone,” I tell the bridal makeup artists later, my voice hollow.
The two maids bow politely and step out of the dressing room. I stare at my reflection. A lone orphan. Bound to a man I despise.
My brown hair is styled high, soft curls framing my face. The ivory off shoulder gown clings perfectly to my body, satin layered with crystals and pearls that scatter light in every direction. Diamond jewelry wraps my neck, ears, wrists, and hair. Under the spotlight, I shimmer.
But none of it matters. I’m walking toward a life as Gabriel’s possession. Not freedom. Not the future I imagined with Harlow.
I thought strength would save me. I thought becoming powerful, no longer mocked, no longer weak, would mean happiness. Instead, I’ve become a currency, a symbol, and a womb to secure a dynasty.
Am I nothing more than a tool to conquer a pack? A vessel for Lycan heirs?
Tears blur my vision again. I haven’t slept since last night. I curse my fate. I curse Gabriel. Even the Moon Goddess feels distant, her prophecy about the Supreme Luna nothing but chains wrapped in gold.
They are all waiting in the blessing hall. Rows of guests fill the seats, eyes shining with expectation. They see a powerful Luna. They don’t see the girl breaking inside.
“Alexa.”
I turn at the familiar voice. Harlow steps into the dressing room in a black tuxedo. Gabriel ordered him to stand behind him at the altar as the ring bearer. Cruelty wrapped in ceremony.
“I’m sorry, Harlow,” I whisper, wiping my cheeks.
“Hey now,” he says gently, pulling me into his arms. “This ain’t on you.”
He grabs a tissue from the vanity and dabs at my face carefully. “Easy. Don’t cry.”
“I should’ve known better,” I choke out. “Gabriel always plays people, and I just walked right into it. He’s the root of all this.” I break down again, sobbing against his chest.
He sighs and rubs the back of my neck, letting me cry. My makeup stains his black tuxedo as my face presses against him.
“I should’ve seen it,” he mutters. “He’s always gotten what he wants through tricks. Even his Alpha title.” His forehead rests against my bare shoulder.
“What do you mean?” I ask, pulling back slowly though tears still fall.
He looks straight into my eyes. The hesitation glimmers in his brown eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs, as if he’s holding back every secret he knows.
“Harlow, tell me,” I press him.
After a long moment, he opens his mouth. “He made me give him directions during the Alpha trial at the border cliffs,” Harlow says quietly.
My mouth falls open. “How? How could he do that?”
“He knew I wanted to enter the Alpha trials too,” Harlow says, closing his eyes before continuing.