Laura’s room was the only messy place in the entire pack house.
Toys lay scattered across the floor.
A small red flowering plant sat on the windowsill, its petals bright against the soft pink walls.
A four-poster bed with a princess canopy took up most of one side.
“Do you like my room?” Laura asked, still nestled in Rosella’s arms.
“Yes,” Rosella answered honestly.
“It’s beautiful, darling.” Laura giggled, dark curls bouncing.
“Papa helped decorate it.
And Uncle Ry bought me lots of the toys.” “Uncle Ry?” “Papa’s Beda.” Rosella smiled.
“That’s very sweet of him.” Laura yawned widely, her small body growing heavier.
“You’re tired, aren’t you?” The little girl nodded against her shoulder.
Rosella carried her to the bed and laid her down carefully.
Laura looked even smaller against the pile of pillows.
Rosella couldn’t help wondering what her mother must have looked like.
Anyone who created something this precious had to have been beautiful.
“Will you tell me a story?” Laura asked sleepily.
“Papa always does.” “I’m not very good at stories,” Rosella admitted.
“But I can sing you a lullaby.
Would that be all right?” “Okay.” Rosella sat on the edge of the bed and began to sing softly, the same simple lullaby her own mother used to hum years ago.
Sleep now, little moonlight, Close your eyes and dream, When the morning finds you, I’ll be right here with you.
She sang it twice more, voice low and steady, until Laura’s breathing evened out and her fingers finally loosened from the blanket.
Rosella stayed a moment longer, just looking at her.
Something warm and painful swelled in her chest.
She tucked the blanket higher, pressed a gentle kiss to the child’s forehead, then quietly stood and walked to the door.
She opened it and stopped short.
Henrik stood in the hallway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
He had clearly been there long enough to hear everything.
Rosella stepped out and closed the door softly behind her.
“I didn’t realize you were—” “What game are you playing, Alpha Colette?” The words were quiet, but the hostility in them was sharp.
Rosella frowned.
“I beg your pardon?” “You heard me.” His grey eyes were cold.
“What game are you playing with my daughter?” “I’m not playing any game.” Henrik gave a short, humorless breath.
“Of course you are.
You need this marriage to succeed.
After all…” His gaze hardened.
“You’ll die if it doesn’t.” The words hit her like ice water.
Rosella’s mind went blank for a full second.
Die.
She had read the newspaper, she knew there was a curse.
But the way he said it—so certain, so final, made the truth finally sink in with brutal clarity.
If she did not marry, she would die.
The body she was living in would kill her from the inside.
A second death sentence.
Different lake, same ending.
Her heart started pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it.
“Why would I die if I don’t marry you?” she asked, the question leaving her mouth before she could stop it.
Henrik stared at her like she had lost her mind.
“Are you joking?
Did you truly think I wouldn’t research the woman I’m expected to marry?” Rosella forced her voice to steady.
“And what exactly did your research tell you?” Something in her tone must have changed, because Henrik’s expression flickered, for a brief moment he looked almost uncertain, as if the woman in front of him no longer matched the reports in his hands.
“You need a true Lycan marriage to stabilize the curse,” he said finally.
“And you don’t exactly have a long list of willing candidates.” Rosella felt a cold smile touch her lips—one that did not feel entirely like her own.
“I see.
Then I suppose your pack’s need for Bloodmoon’s resources is not as urgent as I was led to believe.” The quiet reminder landed, this made Henrik’s jaw tightened and he looked away for a second, the first crack in his hostility.
When he spoke again, his voice was lower, but no less firm.
“If we do this, Laura is off limits.
She is my entire world, I will not allow someone like you to influence her, I will not let your schemes touch her.” The accusation stung more than Rosella expected.
She met his eyes directly.
“To assume I would use a child as a tool is shameful, and here I thought I was the ruthless one.” Henrik’s mouth opened, then closed again.
Whatever he had expected her to say, that was not it.
“I will not force myself into her life,” Rosella continued, quieter now.
“But I also will not turn her away if she comes looking for me.
That is the best I can offer.” Silence stretched between them.
Finally Henrik gave a short nod, though his eyes remained wary.
“Very well.
We still have papers to sign.” He turned and walked toward the study and after a moment, Rosella followed.
The contract lay open on the desk under the soft light of a lamp.
Rosella read every line carefully.
Alpha Colette retained full control of Bloodmoon and its internal affairs.
King Henrik would have no authority over her military decisions, though she was obligated to provide reasonable support if SilverFang required it.
Her personal wealth remained separate.
Three hundred million would transfer to SilverFang upon the marriage.
The marriage between Alpha Collette and King Henrik is strictly political.
Neither party is obligated to produce an heir.
Laura’s care and protection remained solely Henrik’s responsibility.
Neither party is required to engage in a sexual relationship.
Either party could end the marriage after one year if all other terms were met.
SilverFang owed Bloodmoon nothing beyond what was written.
It was precise and ruthless in its clarity.
Exactly the kind of agreement the original Colette would have drafted.
Henrik watched her in silence until she looked up.
“I have one question,” he said.
“What is it?” “Why one full year?
The ceremony alone should be enough to stabilize the curse.
Why stay married longer than necessary?” Rosella had no answer.
She waited for Colette’s memories to surface and explain it.
Nothing came, Only the same heavy silence that had followed her for days.
She lifted her chin.
“A one-year alliance with SilverFang is protection you need, King Henrik.
I wouldn’t question it if I were you.” The words left her mouth with a confidence that did not belong to her, Henrik studied her face for several long seconds, as if trying to decide whether the woman in front of him was the same one the continent feared.
At last he nodded.
“Very well.
My lawyers will review the final draft.
The wedding will be in one week.” He extended his hand.
Rosella took it, his grip was firm, calloused, and brief.
“Rysand will show you to your rooms for the night.
Pleasant evening, Alpha Colette.” She inclined her head and followed the Beta out of the study.
The hallway was quieter now, Most of the pack had retired.
Rosella walked a few steps behind Rysand, mind still turning over the curse, the contract, and the little girl sleeping peacefully down the corridor.
Then she saw them.
Three figures walking toward her from the far end of the hall.
The man in front wore a familiar emblem on his cape, the same one she had seen every day of her old life, the same one that had ordered her death and watched her drown.
Her entire body locked in place.
No.
It couldn’t be.
But the face that came into the light was unmistakable.
Alpha Marcus Dune.
And beside him, smiling as if she belonged here, was Pridda, her stepsister A third woman walked slightly behind them, unfamiliar, but Rosella barely registered her.
Her stepfather and stepsister—the people who had murdered her were here.
Inside SilverFang, simply walking freely toward her.