Elira's entire body ached as consciousness slowly pulled her from the depths of exhausted sleep. The sun was already high—the golden light pooling across the floor told her it was nearly noon.
Her limbs were heavy, sore, as if the marrow had been drained from her bones. Even breathing felt like a task. Her senses returned in fragments—blurry shapes, the faint scent of chamomile, the feel of warm sheets tangled around her legs. She blinked against the light, her lashes fluttering as the fog in her mind began to lift.
She was in bed.
That startled her.
Last night—she remembered—she had collapsed. Curled on the floor like something feral and broken. She didn't remember climbing into bed. She didn't remember standing at all.
Her mind settled on one possibility.
Kael.
The realization came quietly, but it echoed.
He must have carried her.
Something unplaceable twisted in her chest—something raw and confused. Her mind churned as scattered images from the night returned, vivid and unrelenting.
The searing pain.
The awakening.
The scent outside the window—the haunting familiarity that had pierced her even in agony.
Thane.
Was it truly him?
It had felt real. Too real. As if something ancient and buried deep inside her had been suddenly, violently pulled awake.
Like a thread she hadn't known existed had been tugged taut—aching, intimate, undeniable.
He had disappeared a year ago.
Vanish without a word, as if he'd never existed at all.
Did he come back now?
After everything?
Her heartbeat stumbled. But her instincts whispered something else—something colder.
It wasn't only him.
That scent might've stirred something buried.
But what awakened her wolf... had been far more dangerous.
Far closer.
Kael.
Her thoughts turned back to him.
To the way his hand had touched her throat.
To the way his lips had claimed hers—not with tenderness, but hunger.
The taste of him still lingered. The heat of it. The shame of it.
What the hell did they do?
She wanted to excuse it. To blame the heat crawling beneath her skin, the confusion of her body caught between human and wolf. But Kael? Kael hadn't been lost to any shift. He wasn't hallucinating. He was deliberate. He was there.
And gods, he had looked at her like—
No. No.
That wasn't what mattered.
Elira dragged her palm to her chest, searching for breath as her mind snapped back to the moment it had all begun: the moment her fingers brushed the cold silver crescent crest of House Rennar. The way her instincts had flared in warning, like lightning behind her ribs.
It had felt like being burned alive from the inside out.
Kael.
A wolf hunter.
A living, breathing predator—sleeping only walls away.
And she, a secret half-blood, caged in the home of her enemy.
Of course her wolf had awakened.
Her instincts hadn't cried out for romance. They had cried out for survival.
And when that beast—her beast—rose to the surface, she'd thrown him across the room without a second thought.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She could feel it now. The presence. Something stirred deep beneath her skin—not a voice, not a growl, but a recognition.
The beast knew what she was.
And it had no intention of sleeping again.
A soft knock came before the door creaked open, and a servant stepped inside, balancing a silver tray laden with food. 
The rich scent of bone broth filled the room first—slow-cooked with ginseng, garlic, and marrow—followed by a warm plate of lemon-glazed fish, soft brioche soaked in egg yolk, and a small spread of fresh figs, sweet pears, and pomegranate seeds that shimmered like scattered rubies.
 A cup of warm goat milk sat beside it all, lightly sweetened with honey, and next to it... a vial. The tonic. Her eyes lingered on it. Now, she knew what it was meant to do—suppress the beast inside her. Beneath the vial, a scrap of parchment. She take it and find Kael's handwriting there "Your choice. But the moon won’t wait."
"The Commander gave the instructions himself," the maid said, her voice light with amusement.
 "Said milady needed something to regain her strength after such a long, intense night." She giggled softly, clearly imagining something else entirely.
 Elira said nothing. Her fingers curled against the sheets as her gaze dropped to the tray again. The servants believed it was passion that had left her so weak. They believed Kael had claimed her. And maybe, in a way, he had. He had carried her to bed. Told them nothing. Left her aching and full of questions. 
Why... why would he do all this?
But Elira soon drew in a breath and reined herself back. The ache in her limbs remained, but her mind began to sharpen, drifting away from the tangle of Kael, kisses, and confusing warmth. There was something far more urgent pressing against her thoughts. Her hand hovered near the vial once more, and with quiet resolve, she pushed herself up from the bed.
"Prepare a carriage. I will be visiting the Malven estate," she said, her voice composed, cool.
The servant blinked, still caught in her own daydreams, but Elira's expression left no room for misinterpretation—calm, unreadable, and sharp enough to slice through the air. Whatever giggles lingered in the room died instantly. The weight of her presence silenced all foolish assumptions. And with that, Elira turned away from the warmth of the tray, from the bed she hadn't climbed into on her own, and walked toward the cold truth waiting for her at the estate bearing her family name.