The gentle hum of the engine had lulled me into a deep sleep, a rare, peaceful slumber after hours on the road. But the peace was shattered by a cacophony of shouts and the blinding flash of camera strobes. My eyes snapped open, disoriented, to a scene of utter chaos. The car was surrounded, a suffocating swarm of reporters with their lenses like predatory eyes. Matt, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a grim determination, wrestled with the steering wheel, trying to navigate us through the throngs towards the imposing palace gates. Panic, a familiar serpent, coiled in my gut, but then Derick's arm tightened around me, pulling me close, a warm, protective shield against the onslaught. His body pressed against mine, a silent promise of safety in the maelstrom, and I buried my face in his chest, breathing in his familiar, calming scent, the only anchor in this sudden tempest.
We finally broke through the wall of flashing lights and shouts, the heavy palace gates clanging shut behind us, a welcome, albeit belated, sanctuary. The sudden silence was deafening after the frenzy. As my eyes adjusted, I saw them standing on the grand steps, bathed in the soft afternoon sun – the King and Queen. Derick's parents. They looked regal, imposing, and my breath hitched. The memory of the car, the reporters, the sheer, unadulterated terror, still clung to me like a damp shroud, and meeting them now, after that ordeal, felt like walking into another kind of spotlight. But Derick's hand squeezed mine, a silent reassurance, and I focused on his steady presence beside me, my fated mate, my protector, the one who had pulled me from the ashes of my past and was now guiding me towards a future I was still too afraid to fully embrace.
The car lurched to a final halt. Derick was out first, swinging the door open and extending a hand. My shoes crunched on the gravel as I stepped onto the ground, a sharp contrast to the quiet departure of Matt, who offered a parting wave before driving away. I turned to Derick, my gaze questioning. "He's just parking it," Derick replied, as if he'd plucked the thought right out of my head. "Then he'll probably go find his mate." I offered a nod of understanding, and Derick gently pulled me towards the base of the steps. There, awaiting us, stood Derick's parents – the King and Queen of the werewolves.
King Theo Silvermoon, a man of fifty-three with sharp eyes and a strong shaven jawline, stood imposing, his arm a steady presence around his mate, Queen Lisa Silvermoon. She, a fifty-year-old woman exuding an undeniable air of royalty, her long blonde hair meticulously styled beneath a gleaming tiara, offered a smile that was meant to be a calming beacon. Yet, for me, her radiant kindness, only served to amplify my own gnawing sense of inadequacy. Beside her, King Theo, who had ruled with a stern hand for two decades since his parents' passing, his dark brown hair neatly trimmed, appeared every bit the formidable monarch he was, his focus clearly on the future, his training of their son to take over the pack evident in his very stance.
As soon as we were close enough, Derick's mom reached forward and embraced him. After they parted, Derick turned to his father, who offered a smile and a pat on the shoulder before asking, "Now, are you going to introduce us to your mate?" Their eyes then turned to me in an assessing way, and I felt my heart quicken with nerves.
Derick's hand found mine, his grip warm and reassuring as he turned to face his parents. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Mom, Dad," he began, his voice resonating with pride, "I'd like you to meet my mate." The word, "mate," echoed in my ears, sending a flutter of warmth through my chest. "This is Cassy Blackwater," he continued, his gaze never leaving mine. "She's the daughter of Alpha David Blackwater of the Blackwater pack."
As Derick introduced me, I willed a composed smile onto my face. The introduction, meant to be a joyous occasion, churned my stomach into a knot of anxiety. My usual shyness, amplified by the presence of Derick's parents and the weight of the Blackwater pack's legacy, made me feel like a small, trembling creature. Beneath the simple outfit I wore, the intricate tattoo of two raven wings stretched across my back, a permanent reminder of the scars I carried from a past I desperately wanted to leave behind. I could feel the phantom ache where the ink covered the rough textures, a stark contrast to the smooth skin Derick's hand now graced.
Queen Lisa's bright smile enveloped me as she pulled me into a warm hug, her embrace coaxing my hand from Derick's. "It is so nice to meet you, dear," she murmured. A wave of emotion, threatening to spill over, welled in my eyes, but I held it back. Turning, I met King Theo's gentle gaze. He took my hand, his touch firm yet comforting, and patted it. "You are okay now, young one," he said, and a chill snaked through me. My eyes shot to Derick. Had they been told about Josh? What was the King implying? I hadn't intended to keep anything from them, but the thought of this crucial detail being revealed without my input, behind my back, sent a jolt of unease through me.
Derick's gaze snapped to mine, his eyes widening in a shared moment of stunned disbelief. Instinctively, he drew me closer, his arm a comforting weight around me, before turning back to his father. "What do you mean, Father?" he inquired, his voice sharp with an awareness of my own distress. Queen Lisa, her attention caught by Derick's clear protectiveness, practically vibrated with excitement as she seized King Theos arm. "Look, dear! I do believe Derick has fallen in love. Maybe we'll be welcoming grandchildren before too long!" At that, my own eyes shot open, now for an entirely different, and rather startling, reason.
Neither Derick nor his father flinched at the word "grandchildren." Their focus narrowed into a tense, silent stare-down, until his father finally relented with a sigh, indicating the grand entrance of the palace. "Your mother's prepared brunch in the Rose Garden. We'll have a more suitable conversation there." King Theo offered no further argument, simply taking Lisa's hand and leading her through the entrance. My gaze, still tethered to Derick's side, flickered upwards to catch his jaw tightening. "Derick, what's happening?" I breathed.
Derick shook his head, as if to clear it, and finally looked at me with a strained smile. "I don't know," he admitted honestly. "But judging by the massive amount of reporters and my father's remark," he continued, his eyes holding mine, "I don't think it's good."
A nervous flutter began to grow in my chest, and I bit my lip, a familiar urge to disappear consuming me. Derick, sensing my escalating distress, gently drew me back against him. "Cassy, I swear I didn't tell them anything," he insisted, his voice earnest, a plea for my belief. "I would never do that to you. Your story is yours to share, not mine."
While I already knew that, hearing him voice it aloud was still a comfort. I eased away from his embrace, offering a small, strained smile. "I know, Derick," I replied, meeting his gaze. "I trust you." Then, on tiptoe, I planted a quick, soft kiss on his lips.
Derick smirked then making my face flush, "If you want we can just go back to the our bedroom instead?" He suggested and my heart fluttered at the word "our", but his playfulness helped ease the rising anxiety, so I just smiled back and shook my head.
"Thanks, Derick," I admitted, my voice laced with a genuine desperation, "but I swear I'm losing my mind not knowing what's happening." His lips curved into a brief, playful pout, a flicker of amusement in his eyes before his expression softened, his serious gaze meeting mine as he took my hand.
Derick offered a reassuring squeeze of my hand, his earlier playfulness replaced by a focused calm. "Come on," he said, his voice steady, "Brunch awaits. We'll figure this out together." He led me through the grand entrance of the palace, and I found myself stealing glances at the opulent surroundings. Tapestries depicting ancient wolf lore adorned the walls, and sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, casting vibrant patterns across the polished marble floors. I remembered learning about this place in history lessons, the legendary Silvermoon Palace, but seeing it in person, feeling its sheer scale and history, was an entirely different sensation. It was breathtaking, almost overwhelmingly so, and for a moment, the anxieties about reporters and cryptic remarks faded, replaced by a quiet awe.
The path to the Rose Garden was a winding one, filled with more alcoves and courtyards, each more beautiful than the last. Finally, we emerged into an explosion of color and fragrance. The Rose Garden was a masterpiece, a vibrant tapestry of blooms in every shade imaginable, their sweet scent perfuming the air. At its heart, a circular table was set, laden with an array of brunch delights: fresh fruits, pastries still warm from the oven, and steaming pots of tea. King Theo and Queen Lisa were already seated, their regal presence somehow blending seamlessly with the natural beauty surrounding them. Queen Lisa's smile widened as we approached, her eyes crinkling at the corners, while King Theo's gaze remained steady, a silent acknowledgment of our arrival.
Derick guided me to two empty chairs beside his parents, and as I sat down, the soft rustle of my simple outfit felt almost out of place amidst the grandeur. The conversation began politely, with Queen Lisa inquiring about my journey and expressing her delight at finally meeting me. Yet, beneath the surface pleasantries, a subtle tension lingered, a silent question hanging in the air that mirrored the unease I felt from earlier. I caught Derick's eye across the table, and he offered a subtle nod, a silent reassurance that we would face whatever came next, together. The rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked bread filled my senses, a stark contrast to the brewing storm of uncertainty I sensed within this idyllic setting.
Once our plates were laden with a variety of dishes by the servants, the King dismissed them, leaving just the four of us. From his jacket, he then produced a folded newspaper and handed it to Derick. Though Derick's brow rose in question, he began to unroll the paper as his father started to eat.
I watched the emotions flicker across Derick's face: surprise, then disbelief, culminating in a raw, powerful anger that tightened his grip on the paper. As if sensing my gaze, he looked up, and my heart nearly fractured at the sight of pity, sadness, and a hesitant hint of nervousness.
"Cassy," Derick's voice, a soft murmur, reached me as he approached, the crumpled paper still tight in his hand. "You need to read this." A knot tightened in my throat. I took the newspaper, my gaze drawn first to the King and Queen, their regal presence a heavy stillness at the table. As I began to read, my world fractured.
Breaking news: Crown Prince Derick has finally found his mate – a story fit for a fairy tale, some are calling it Cinderella. But the truth, as revealed by Josh, the newly appointed Alpha of the Blackwater pack, is far more complex.
My blood began to boil as I read. The article painted a picture of Josh begging Crown Prince Derick to take me away, a desperate plea born from his father's dangerous obsession with my mother and myself. He knew his father's grip was absolute, and only Derick could offer protection. Scattered throughout were unflattering images of me, my injured back evident, alongside unsettling reports from pack members who witnessed the possessive way Alpha David looked at us. Yet, it wasn't these details that shattered me. What truly broke me was the revelation that Josh had challenged his own father for the Alpha position, emerging victorious. This victory, however, came at a horrific cost: Alpha David, in his rage, murdered my mother before Josh was forced to kill him in turn.
My hands trembled uncontrollably.
My mother was dead, gone. How could I possibly save her now?