Kelowna's P.O.V
The fire in my study burned low, casting long shadows across stone and paper.
I sat behind my desk, one hand wrapped loosely around a glass of whiskey I hadn't touched. Across from me, Marcus leaned forward in the high-backed chair, arms resting on his knees, a sealed report open between us.
Neither of us had spoken for a few minutes.
The silence was heavy. Loaded. It had been two days. Two days since she stood in that cell on shaking legs and gave me her truth. Two days since she begged the one man she should have feared most for sanctuary. Two days since she tried to bleed herself out right in front of me.
And I…I hadn't seen her since. I'd kept myself away. Buried in council meetings, territory reports, sparring drills. None of it worked.
She was always there.
In the corner of my mind. In the quiet between thoughts. In the moments before sleep, her violet eyes haunted me like bruises left behind on something delicate.
I was furious about it, mostly at myself.
Marcus finally broke the silence.
"She told the truth."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to. The report lying open on my desk said enough. The scouts I'd sent had returned with more than I expected.
"Yes, Victor had a daughter," Marcus said, voice low. "Few ever saw her. Most believed she was cursed. Some called her a demon. Said she brought bad omens."
My jaw tightened. "Because of her eyes?"
"That and…" Marcus exhaled. "Because no one ever saw her shift. No ceremonies. No celebrations. No wolf. Victor told the pack she was defective. Useless. Said the moon had rejected her."
Still I said nothing. My fingers flexed around the untouched glass.
Marcus continued, tone darkening. "We spoke to the old kitchen staff—servants who used to be there before Victor replaced them. They remembered her. The bruises. The punishments. Said everyone participated. Some because they believed she was bad luck. Others… because they were afraid of him."
My eyes narrowed. "And the brother?"
"Dean. Older by three years. Got caught protecting her more than once. Nearly exiled for it." Marcus rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Apparently, the night of the rogue attack, he used the chaos to help her escape. Just like she said."
I stood then, slowly. My back to the fire. I didn't speak for a long while.
Marcus waited. He always waited.
And then—
"There's more."
Marcus pulled out a second sheet, tattered and stained with travel. "Last piece came from a scout who intercepted one of Victor's trackers. He's sniffing around the outer border."
My head turned sharply.
"He suspects she's here," Marcus said. "Doesn't have proof yet. But he's digging. Said Victor believes she's alive. That she made it into this territory."
Godric snarled violently within me.
The kind of sound that made the back of my neck burn and teeth ache.
Mine.
It wasn't a thought. It was a truth.
A claim.
My fists clenched at my sides. Victor. That sadistic, posturing bastard. That spineless monster who called himself Alpha. He wanted his daughter back—not because he missed her. But because he hadn't finished destroying her.
My lip curled. I hadn't decided what Karmella was yet—not really.
But one thing was clear. No one—not even her own blood—would take her off my land.
Not alive.
Not dead.
"You feel it too, don't you?" his voice broke through.
I turned.
My beta's gaze was steady. Measured. But not cold.
"She's not what we expected," Marcus said. "Not a threat. Not a spy. She's…" He shook his head. "She's been through more than most soldiers in wartime."
I didn't answer. My silence wasn't denial, and Marcus knew it.
"So what now?" he asked.
I looked back to the fire, its embers glowing like eyes in the dark.
Sanctuary.
I'd laughed at her for asking.
But now…
Now, that word clung to my tongue like something alive.
Marcus leaned forward, his voice lower now. Softer, almost.
"I'm not saying she's innocent. I'm not saying she's not dangerous. But what I am saying is—maybe she's not the villain in this."
My jaw flexed. And Marcus added, carefully—
"Maybe the rogue isn't the threat we should be watching."
I said nothing for a long time. Just stood with my back to the fire, jaw locked, staring into shadows that moved like ghosts. Marcus didn't push, just let me process.
Finally, I spoke—my voice low, flat, but carrying something in it that hadn't been there before.
Resolve.
"Pull her from the cell."
Marcus lifted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"She's to be moved." I turned toward the desk, palms braced against the wood. "Out of the dungeon. Out of confinement."
Marcus straightened in his seat. "You're serious?"
My eyes snapped to him. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
"No. But… are you sure?"
"No," I said simply.
Silence again. Just the crackling of the fire and the distant echo of storm winds beyond the castle walls.
I inhaled slowly, pressing a hand to the center of my chest where Godric stirred again, not with rage this time—but something restless. Something drawn.
"She's dangerous," I murmured. "But not because she's violent. Not because she's rogue."
"Because she makes you feel something," Marcus said quietly.
My gaze sharpened like a blade. But I didn't deny it.
Instead, I looked down at the wood grain of the desk and finally admitted the truth—the one I wouldn't say to the council, the guards, or myself.
"She reminds me of her."
Marcus didn't need the name.
My sister.
The one who's broken body I carried out of a burning village with a roar that split the stars.
"She was light," I said. "But this one… she's shadow. Quiet. Empty. Like something that learned how to stay invisible because being seen hurt too much." I paused.
"But her eyes... they demand to be seen."
Marcus let the silence fall again.
I didn't speak often of my sister. And when I did, the weight was always unbearable. Which is why what came next shocked him.
"She stays at the castle," I said. "In the royal guest suite. Near my wing."
He blinked. "She's staying in the royal quarters?"
"Not on the same floor," I snapped. "But close. If she needs watching, I'll be the one doing it."
He sat back slowly. "So… you're giving her sanctuary."
"I'm not giving her anything," I growled. "I'm containing a threat where I can control it."
Marcus lifted a brow.
I ignored the expression. "No one is to speak of her presence beyond this pack," I said coldly. "Inside, I expect whispers—I'm not naïve. But if word reaches anyone outside these walls…."
"And if they do?"
My voice was ice.
"They die."
He stared. That wasn't just a security order. This was a royal decree. The highest level of protection afforded to only the most precious, most sacred assets of the crown.
It was a declaration of belonging.
"Death?" Marcus repeated. "Don't you think that's a little—"
"She is mine," I said sharply, the words slicing clean through the air, shocking me in the process. "My land. My rule. My call. And until I decide what she is… she stays under my protection."
The finality in my voice shook even Marcus.
My Beta leaned back with a small, half-incredulous laugh and shook his head.
"Well," he muttered, "look at that. The predator's protecting his prey."
I shot him a warning glare.
Marcus raised his hands. "No disrespect. Just… surprised. You've never done this before."
I exhaled through my nose, jaw tight. "Because no one's ever been her before."
I moved toward the door, issuing commands like stone on steel.
"She doesn't leave the room. No contact. She is to be treated as a guest—a royal guest. Not a prisoner. Not a servant. Food. Warmth. Clothes. Basic comfort."
Marcus followed, his tone dipping serious. "And the patrols? If Victor comes sniffing?"
My wolf surged behind my eyes. "Then Victor dies."
Marcus gave a sharp nod. "Understood."
As my hand closed around the handle of the study door, I paused.
"I still don't trust her."
"I know," Marcus replied. "But I also know you've already decided."
I didn't respond, because it was true, and the worst part?
I didn't know if I was saving her… or myself.