Nothing had changed during my absence from the old pack. Everything about me felt different, but the large town I now stood in remained frozen in time. The sprawling southern homes looked exactly the same-broad porches with worn, creaking rocking chairs, and neatly trimmed emerald-green grass basking under the relentless sun. A few kids, shrieking with laughter, dashed through a sprinkler in someone’s front yard, and it struck a chord of nostalgia in me-Bianca and I had done the same countless times. A pair of dragonflies zipped by, their iridescent wings flashing in the sunlight, as I stared up at my childhood home. The porch had a fresh coat of paint. I remembered a long, dreary day after my father died, when my mom had suggested we repaint it, probably to distract from the heavy grief hanging over us. She’d let me choose the color, and I had picked a bright pink that had once brightened the gloom. But seeing the new paint made my chest ache. I had expected it to still be baby pink, as if nothing else had changed.
Everything in this town was exactly as I had left it-except for that porch. It felt like the house itself was telling me I no longer belonged. Despite the pull of the humid air and the familiar smell of freshly turned earth, this place was no longer my home.
After a heated argument with Carlo, Chiara had insisted on joining Enrico and me. She would continue her training under Leonardo’s supervision, with Enrico keeping a close eye on her. Chiara’s excitement was palpable as we crossed into Leonardo’s territory, her energy a sharp contrast to my own unease.
We arrived a day earlier than planned, giving us time to wander the town and revisit places that had once been my sanctuary. The Midnight Diner was as welcoming as I remembered, its old-school charm far from anything in Carlo’s pack. When I was a child, I used to come here often, indulging in endless servings of hot fudge sundaes. The forest surrounding this pack was immense-far larger and wilder than Carlo’s, dotted with hidden waterfalls, swimming holes, and secret caves that most people didn’t even know existed.
After a lackluster tour with Chiara and Enrico, I found myself standing outside my old house again. It was no surprise to see that a new family had moved in. A part of me felt a fleeting happiness, hoping that their lives would be filled with joy and warmth-things that had long fled the walls of that home after my father’s death.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice interrupted my thoughts. “You’re here on behalf of Alpha Carlo, right?”
The three of us turned to face Dante Ferraro. He had always been a part of Leonardo’s inner circle-along with Francesca, Fabio, and Livia-and none of them had been kind to me growing up. Leonardo had stood by with that maddeningly indifferent expression as they made my life miserable.
Dante had changed. He was still broad-shouldered, with unruly chestnut hair that now brushed the nape of his neck. He was leaner, his jaw sharper, and a fresh scar ran down his cheek-a pale pink line that looked like it had only just healed. Even though werewolves could heal quickly, they could still carry scars like humans.
“Yes, we are,” Enrico replied, his tone curt. “And you are?”
“Beta Dante Ferraro,” he answered, his eyes assessing the three of us before settling on me. His gaze was devoid of the open malice that had once been there, but I kept my expression carefully neutral. I had grown, just as they had, and I wouldn’t let my guard down.
“Alpha Leonardo sends his apologies,” Dante continued. “He’s currently busy, but he’d like to invite you to dinner tonight.”
I fought to keep my composure. If facing Dante unsettled me, how would I handle being in Leonardo’s presence again? Forcing the unease back down, I maintained eye contact, unflinching. “When and where?” Enrico asked.
“In two hours,” Dante said, his gaze briefly meeting mine again. There was something unreadable in his eyes, but I didn’t let it throw me off. “Isabella can guide you to the location.”
I managed a polite nod. Even though I could sense Leonardo’s house at the end of the street, with its sprawling porch and balcony that overlooked the road, I refused to look.
After Enrico and Chiara left for the Midnight Diner, I stayed behind. Carlo had put me in charge of our mission, and I needed some time alone. I had one more person to seek out-Andrea. I hadn’t seen him in over a year, not since he stopped coming to our creek. I still wondered about him-where he had been all those times in the woods and who he really was. But our unspoken agreement not to pry had strengthened our friendship, and I had learned not to ask, just as he never asked about my home.
The forest path felt familiar as I slipped between the houses, heading for the cover of the trees. The forest had grown wilder in my absence-branches hung lower, and the undergrowth had thickened, almost hiding the narrow trail. Half an hour later, the soothing sound of rushing water reached my ears, and my tension began to ebb. What had once seemed like a long hike as a child was now a quick walk. The creek looked exactly as it had before-untouched and serene, its water still clear and cold as it bubbled over smooth stones.
My heart sank when I reached the familiar flat patch of earth. I had left a note for Andrea when I departed, but I had no idea if he ever found it. Sitting down on the grass, I let my thoughts drift. A part of me hoped he would appear, that his golden-skinned figure would burst through the trees with that welcoming smile. But as the minutes dragged into an hour, reality settled in. The pain in my chest sharpened, and I knew he wasn’t coming.
Returning to my old house, Enrico and Chiara were waiting for me with worry etched on their faces. They didn’t say a word until we arrived at Leonardo’s. As we got out of the car, I faced them both.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, my voice tired.
“We just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Chiara admitted softly. “Coming back can’t be easy.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “I can handle it.”
We walked up Leonardo’s long driveway, past the immaculately kept lawn, and onto the wide porch. My stomach twisted with each step, a mix of anger, apprehension, and the faintest thread of excitement coiling within me. Dante was there to greet us, opening the front door without a word. The house smelled of food, warm and inviting, but its decor was impersonal-modern and cold. Not a single family photo adorned the walls.
Following Dante down a dim hallway, I focused on the meaningless paintings hanging there until I reached the bathroom. As I turned a corner, I collided with something solid. My teeth clicked from the impact, but I didn’t fall. I looked up, the familiar scent of pine, sandalwood, and citrus filling my senses, and felt a jolt of recognition as sparks skittered over my skin.