Alison’s POV
The sunlight filtered through the thick Crimson curtains of my new bedroom, casting streaks of gold and red on the floor. I stirred, half-lost in dreams of simpler times, but the muted hum of activity beyond the door reminded me I wasn’t at home at least, not the one I’d come to know with Xander months ago.
A quiet knock startled me fully awake. The sound was gentle yet deliberate, signaling the start of another unfamiliar and unpredictable day in a place that was supposed to be my own.
Slipping out of bed, I threw on a cozy sweater over my pajamas and tied my hair into a loose ponytail. Despite the grandeur of my surroundings, I craved simplicity, something grounding in the midst of everything swirling around me. As I stepped into the hallway, I was greeted by the soft murmurs of the staff bustling about.
“Good morning, Miss Maureen,” one of the maids said, offering a warm smile as she passed by with an armful of fresh linens heading for my room.
“Good morning,” I replied, the name still feeling foreign to my lips, would I ever get used to this name being mine?.
Walking through the halls, I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between this castle and Xander’s. The architecture was grand, almost imposing, yet there was a warmth here that made it feel lived-in. The crimson tapestries and intricate woodwork whispered of history, of a home filled with stories.
I let my fingers brush along the smooth wooden railings as I descended the staircase, the faint aroma of something delicious wafting through the air. My stomach growled in response, a reminder that I hadn’t eaten much the night before because I was nervous.
The source of the enticing scent was the kitchen, where I found my mother… Of course yes, my mother the Luna of Crimson Park, standing at the center of the activity. She was dressed simply in a cream-colored apron over a soft blue dress, her hair pinned back neatly. Around her, the staff moved with synchronized precision, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, and laying out dishes. Yet, despite the busyness, she was laughing, a light, musical sound that instantly put me at ease.
“Good morning, my baby girl,” she said warmly, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she caught sight of me.
“Good morning, Mum,” I said, the word still tasting unfamiliar but comforting on my tongue.
“Come here,” she beckoned, wiping her hands on her apron. “I thought you’d still be sleeping. Did you rest well?”
“I did,” I admitted. “The room is… beautiful. Thank you.”
She smiled knowingly and gestured for me to sit at the small kitchen table. “I thought I’d handle breakfast myself today. It’s been years since I’ve had the chance to cook for the entire family.”
I glanced around at the bustling staff and smiled back at her. “With help, I see.”
She chuckled. “Oh, they insisted. I don’t think they trust me alone in the kitchen anymore.”
I laughed softly, feeling the weight of yesterday’s events ease slightly.
As she worked, she engaged me in conversations, she soon begins to ask me questions, simple, unassuming ones, but each felt like a thread tying us closer together.
“What’s your favorite breakfast, my dear? Pancakes? Eggs? Bacon?” she asked, her hands moving deftly as she flipped a pancake in the skillet.
“Um, probably waffles, I haven’t really had time to decode which,” I said after a moment. “But I’m not so much of a picky eater.”
Her eyes lit up. “Waffles! I’ll have to make those tomorrow. What about hobbies? Do you like to read? Paint?”
I hesitated, unsure how to explain that most of my hobbies had been shaped by necessity rather than choice. “I prefer to read,” I said carefully. “But I guess I haven’t had much time for hobbies lately.”
Her expression softened, and she reached out to place a hand on mine. “Well, maybe it’s time you found some again, you know Crimson Pack has one of the best Dance crews and artists too, you could enroll with any and learn a new hobby.”
Before I could respond, a deep, familiar voice cut through the warm moment.
“Good morning, my love.”
My father entered the kitchen, his presence commanding immediate attention from everyone in the room. The staff stopped what they were doing to greet him with a respectful bow, but his eyes were fixed solely on my mother as he nods at the staffs.
“Good morning,” she replied with a smile that could have melted ice.
He crossed the room in just a few strides and kissed her lightly on the lips. The gesture was tender, unforced, a quiet testament to their connection. Despite their silver hair and the faint lines of age on their faces, they moved with the ease and affection of a couple still deeply in love.
I found myself staring, a pang of envy striking me unexpectedly. Would Xander and I ever reach this kind of effortless understanding? Would we even get the chance?
“Maureen,” my mother’s voice pulled me back to the present. She was watching me with a gentle smile, clearly amused by my wandering thoughts. “Lost in your own world, are you?”
“Sorry,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks flush.
My father chuckled. “Don’t worry, Maureen. You’ll get used to the chaos soon enough.”
Their constant use of my childhood name always made my chest flutter, but I nodded, forcing a smile.
Breakfast was served in the grand dining room, a space that seemed almost too opulent for something as simple as a morning meal. The long table was set with gleaming silverware and pristine white dishes, the centerpiece a vase of fresh crimson roses.
As we gathered around, my mother took my hand and gestured for everyone else to do the same. “Let us pray,” she said softly, bowing her head.
The room fell silent as she began to speak, her voice steady and reverent.
“Moon Goddess, we thank you for this meal, for the safe return of our daughter, and for the strength you give us each day. May your light guide us always.”
“Amen,” I whispered along with the my father, though the weight of the words lingered in my chest.
The conversation during breakfast was light, filled with laughter and teasing. My parents regaled me with stories of the pack and their adventures over the years, their voices warm and familiar. It felt… normal, in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
But the tranquility shattered like glass when a guard burst into the room, his face flushed and his breathing labored.
“Alpha,” he said bowing a little, his voice urgent. “Alpha Cedric of the Red Dawn Pack has arrived.”
The room fell silent, the atmosphere shifting in an instant. My father set down his fork, his expression unreadable. “Cedric? What does he want this early?”
“I’m not sure, Alpha,” the guard said, his voice tight. “But he’s insistent.”
Before we could say more, the heavy oak door of the dining room swung open, and a tall man strode in with the kind of confidence only an Alpha could possess. He was around my father’s age, his hair streaked with silver but his movements strong and sure like a retired general.
“Gaius!” he bellowed, his voice booming. “It’s been a long while, how have you been my friend?!”
“Cedric,” my father said, rising to his feet. His tone was polite but laced with caution.
Behind Cedric, a younger man followed, handsome, with striking features and an easy confidence that made it hard to look away. He couldn’t have been older than thirty, his sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.
But before I could think too much about him, Cedric’s arms enveloped me in a sudden, bear-like hug.
“Welcome home, my daughter-in-law,” he said warmly.
The words hit me like a thunderclap. I stiffened, my mind reeling as his declaration echoed in my ears.
Daughter-in-law?