Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Elena
Morning sunlight sliced through gaps in the curtains, cutting narrow strips of light across the wooden floor. I stood at my workbench, fingers gently rolling a lavender petal, bringing it to my nose—the scent was fresh and soft, no harsh chemical bite.
Five years.
Five years was enough time to change everything. I'd gone from that woman driven out of Silver pine, fleeing the hospital, to a fragrance shop owner everyone knew by name in this small town in Silverthread Kingdom.
"Mom!"
Anya's voice drifted up from downstairs, bright and crisp with morning cheerfulness.
"Coming!" I set the petal back on its dish, wiped my hands on my apron, and headed down.
The town was quiet in the mornings, air thick with the scent of flowers and herbs.
This border town in Silverthread Kingdom was small, mostly werewolves with a handful of humans and mixed-bloods.
People here didn't obsess over bloodlines like they did in Silver pine.
Mixed-bloods could live freely without fear of persecution or murder.
I'd opened a fragrance shop here.
At first, it was just survival—when I'd fled here with newborn Anya, all I had was that old wooden box and a few changes of clothes. I rented a tiny place, though it wasn't really renting—the landlord took pity on us. I didn't pay him back in full until things stabilized.
I started making fragrance products again.
Turned out nobody here had seen anything like it.
Perfect—a blank market. They were curious about these fragrant things.
Slowly, word spread about a woman whose products actually worked—helped with sleep, eased anxiety, promoted relaxation, all without the side effects of witchcraft.
Silverthread Kingdom had the most thriving witch culture on the entire Moonfall Continent.
Orders grew. I moved from that tiny place to a two-story building—shop downstairs, living space upstairs.
My reputation spread across the Silverthread Kingdom.
People traveled from other cities just to buy from me.
I kept innovating—air purifiers, mood enhancers.
I made small pendants in cute shapes: dinosaurs, rabbits, all kinds of adorable designs.
Girls could hang them on their bags, and parents could buy them for their kids' backpacks. They repelled insects.
I came down the stairs to find Anya at the table, oatmeal and cut fruit in front of her. She looked up, eyes shining—those gray eyes with that thin ring of gold at the edges, like her father's.
My chest tightened, but I kept my face neutral. "Anya, done with breakfast?"
"Done! Mom, look!" She held up a drawing. "I made the garden!"
The paper showed wobbly green lines dotted with little red and yellow flowers. I took it and studied it seriously.
"Beautiful." I sat beside her, ruffling her hair. "After breakfast, want to help open the shop?" It was Saturday. No school.
"Yes!"
When I pushed open the shop door, sunlight flooded in with that fresh morning clarity. I flipped the "Open" sign. Anya was already behind the counter, standing on her little stool, reaching for bottles.
"Mom, will lots of people come today?"
"They will." I smiled.
Sure enough, customers trickled in before noon even hit.
Locals, plus merchants from elsewhere passing through.
I worked the counter while keeping an eye on Anya—she stood there seriously wrapping products for customers, small fingers clumsy but determined.
Some customers actually preferred her ribbon bows, said they had "innocence. "
"Elena."
I looked up. Gareth stood in the doorway.
Light shirt, long pants, reddish-brown hair catching warm light from the sun. He carried a basket of fresh bread and fruit.
"Morning." He smiled, stepping in. "Brought you something."
"Thanks." I took the basket. "You always do this."
"Because I know you forget to eat when you're busy." He shrugged, eyes landing on Anya. "Anya, helping out today?"
"Uncle Gareth!" Anya poked her head out from behind the counter, waving. Other customers nodded respectfully to him.
Gareth was the town Alpha's son, heir to the Rosell family. Two years younger than me, easygoing, kind to everyone. A regular at my shop, one of the first friends I'd made here.
Over these years, I'd met so many people here. Healers, merchants, ordinary townspeople. They'd accepted me, helped me, let me find my worth. I wasn't that woman who only knew how to run, how to endure. I had my own business, my own life. I had Anya.
I'd found where I belonged.
But deep inside, where my wolf lay curled, something was always missing. An empty space where the most important piece used to be. I refused to acknowledge it, because that meant remembering the pain from five years ago. Strange—I'd met him again after five years, been hurt by him after five years.
Maybe that was fate?
"Elena," Gareth's voice pulled me back. He looked awkward, couldn't meet my eyes, but pushed the words out anyway. "There's a gathering this weekend. Everyone in town's going. Want to come? You can bring Anya."
He looked at me expectantly.
I knew what he really wanted to say. This wasn't the first time.
"Gareth," I set down my bottle, met his eyes, "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me and Anya these years. But—"
"I know." He cut me off, smile turning bitter. "There's someone else."
I went quiet. His words forced me to face what I didn't want to face.
He was right. There was someone. That person had thrown me out five years ago, denied I was his mate in front of everyone, and shattered my bond. But my wolf still whimpered at night, curled in that hollow place in my chest.
I hated it. But he was my mate. Losing your mate—for a werewolf, that damage went deep.
"I'm sorry." That's all I could say.
Gareth looked at me for a long time. Then he nodded.
"I understand." His voice was quiet. "If you change your mind, tell me. But hey, I heard you're opening a branch in Silver pine?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "Business is growing. Time to expand."
Gareth's expression shifted. "Be careful there. Reserpine's not like here."
"I will be," I said. "Besides, attitudes toward mixed-bloods have loosened up in Silver pine these past few years.
I can't stay in a small town forever. It's time to go back.
" Silverthread Kingdom was good, but Silver pine was my homeland—my entire childhood, my father's grave.
As for my mother—no, I had no mother. My name was Windsor, not Gray.
And I missed Liam. What did he look like now? Probably polite and exceptional.
Gareth nodded, said nothing more, and left.
The door clicked shut behind him. My wolf seemed to just wake up, letting out a long, low whine.
That evening, Anya didn't go to bed after her bath.
"Mom," she climbed onto my lap, "tell me a story.
You haven't told stories in forever." She whined, voice tinged with complaint.
I set down my pen, saw her pout, felt affection and guilt flood through me.
Between prepping the new shop, I'd missed too many bedtime routines.
"Okay," I pinched her little nose, scooped her up toward the bedroom, "I will tell you one."
Anya brightened, little feet swinging even as she lay in bed, couldn't settle down. "Shh," I lowered my voice, "what did Mom tell you before—"
"Listen quietly or the story runs away." We recited it together, and finally Anya let me tuck her in properly, looking at me sweetly.
I smiled. Her desk was chaos—picture books from the library scattered everywhere. I grabbed one at random and started reading.
"Once upon a time, in Silverthread Kingdom's Sleepy Valley, there lived a sprite—"
I deliberately slowed my pace. The bedside fragrance diffused its gentle scent. Anya's eyelids grew heavy, voice softer and softer. "Mom," she yawned, eyes slowly closing, "is there really a Sleepy Valley? And little sprites..."
I closed the book, kissed her forehead, and tucked the blanket around her again. "Goodnight." Anya's lips pressed together in her sleep, like a smile. Probably flying around with sprites in her dreams. My wolf said.
I started tidying her desk. Suddenly, I spotted a book—
Silver Thread: Family Histories.
I didn't remember checking this out. Maybe I'd grabbed it randomly to meet the library's five-book minimum.
I flipped it open casually. The table of contents. First line:
The Gray Family.
My heart skipped. I kept reading.
Turned out the Gray family's ancestors had migrated from the Silverthread Kingdom to Silver pine. Silverthread Kingdom had "the strongest witch and fated mate line systems" of any kingdom. Witch bloodlines ran thick here. Many families wielded ancient magic. The Grays among them.
No wonder my mother knew that scent-masking spell.
I turned pages and found an old photograph. A Gray family branch line. The photo was blurry, but I recognized one woman instantly—that face was almost identical to Lina's.
My fingers froze on the photo.
My blood seemed to stop for a moment.
The name listed below—not Lina, but Lina's grandmother, who'd married a lord in Silver pine and split from the Gray family. "Lord" was just a title, and Lina's grandmother's descendants were all lords' wives.
So Lina was a Gray branch member. That made us distant relatives. Because the families hadn't contacted each other in centuries, neither Lina nor I knew.
Thinking about what Lina had done to me, I couldn't pin down how I felt. Complicated. We were actually family. I might be Lina's only relative. Her whole family died in that fire. My father was dead, my mother didn't want me. She could've been important family to me too.
But none of that mattered now.
I sighed, put the book away, and stared at the darkness outside. I was going back to Silver pine for myself, for my fragrance brand, for Anya—so she could get a better education than this town offered.
Not for revenge.
And not for... Lucifer.
My wolf seemed to snort. I ignored it.
Two weeks later, I brought Anya back to Silver pine.
I'd found someone to manage the town shop, signed contracts, two copies.
When we left, Gareth came to see us off.
"Elena," he looked at me, those usually cheerful eyes now filled with sadness, "you and your descendants can always come back.
You'll always be Rivervale residents. I promise you this in the name of Rosell, my family. "
"Thank you, Gareth." I knew an Alpha's promise carried weight.
The car pulled away from Rivervale. In the rear view mirror, Gareth's figure shrank, became a dot, and disappeared. He stood there the whole time. Looked lonely.
The car rolled down the highway, scenery growing clearer. I showed my pass to the guards. They let us through. They didn't recognize me—the former Luna of Reserpine's Hale royal family. All of Silver pine had forgotten me. Who was the Luna now? Probably Lina.
Of course, none of that concerned me anymore.
I watched the streetscape pass, feeling like a lifetime had gone by. High-rises, shops, crowds—all so familiar yet strange.
Anya had been sad about leaving Rivervale, her backpack stuffed with goodbye gifts from classmates, but now the unfamiliar place grabbed her attention. She pressed against the window, eyes huge. "Mom, it's so big!"
"It is." I reached over and stroked her hair. "We'll live here now. You'll go to a new school, make new friends."
I'd booked a hotel and dropped off our bags. The next few days, I was swamped with the new shop—viewing spaces, negotiating rent, arranging renovations, ordering supplies. Every day, from dawn to dusk, I came back to the hotel and collapsed into bed. I still hadn't found a proper house.
Anya was good about it. She knew I was busy, so she mostly played by herself or drew in the hotel room, telling me about her new school. "They have a playground this—big!" She tried showing me the width, lost her balance, and fell onto the bed. We laughed together.
Days later, I found a place three blocks from school.
Rented it immediately. Pricey, but it had a wide view and a small garden.
Anya loved it, chattering about planting this here, that there.
Actually, I needed it for experimental fragrances, but she was so excited I set aside a special plot just for her.
That afternoon, I was at the new shop discussing layout with the renovation crew. The shop sat at a corner on a commercial street—great location, heavy foot traffic. I stood in the empty space, already visualizing shelf placement and lighting. Anya wandered in and out. I didn't pay attention.
"Ms. Windsor, for this wall you wanted—"
I held up a finger. Wait. Anya had gone quiet. "Anya?" I looked toward the back. "What are you doing?"
No response.
I hurried in. "Anya?"
Empty. Anya was gone.
My blood turned to ice. Next second, I grabbed my bag and bolted.
"Ms. Windsor? We're not done—" The contractor called after me.
I didn't look back.
I burst onto the street, stood there, and took a deep breath. My wolf rose inside me, ears pricked. I closed my eyes and activated the kinship sense between werewolves.
Anya. Where was Anya?
That faint, familiar scent drifted from one direction. Weak, but there. I opened my eyes and ran that way.
My heart pounded, palms sweating. The street bustled with people. I wove through crowds, chasing that scent. Two corners, through an alley. The scent grew stronger.
Ahead—a fast food place.
I shoved through the door, eyes sweeping the restaurant—
Then I saw her.
Anya sat by the window, kids' meal in front of her. She happily munched fries, legs swinging under the chair.
My legs nearly gave out.
"Anya!"
She looked up, saw me, eyes brightening. "Mom!"
I rushed over, dropped to my knees, and grabbed her shoulders. "Why did you run off? I told you to stay in the shop!"
"But I was hungry." She pouted. "You didn't come back, so I went to find food myself."
My hands shook. I pulled her into my arms and held tight. "You scared me to death. Never do that again, understand?"
"Okay." Her voice was muffled against my shoulder. "Sorry."
I took a deep breath, tried to let go, but my fingers still clutched her clothes. My wolf curled inside me, tail draped over my heart, also trembling.
"Mom."
A voice beside me.
I froze.
That voice. That word.
I slowly turned my head.
A boy stood next to me, holding a tray. Maybe ten years old, hair a bit messy, bangs stuck to his forehead.
That face.
Those eyes.
That profile.
Liam.
My breathing stopped.
Five years. Five years since I'd seen him. He'd grown so tall, so much older. From that crying, fussing little boy to a young man. His eyes were still deep gray, brows and lids starting to echo his father's. His jawline was emerging, nose bridge sharper than I remembered.
He was looking at me, too.
Those gray eyes locked on my face, pupils dilated slightly, like he'd seen something impossible.
We stared at each other.
The noise of the fast food place—sizzling fryers, chiming registers, other customers' conversations—all vanished. The world went quiet. Just me and him.