Chapter 2

Aria's POV

Six Years Later..

The official letter from the Werewolf Alliance sat heavy in my hands, its crisp white paper stamped with the ancient seal that had governed our kind for centuries. My fingers traced over the embossed symbol – a wolf's head surrounded by twelve stars, representing the original packs that had formed the Alliance.

Due to the recent surge in wild wolf attacks, the Alliance requests your expertise as a combat instructor at our training facility...

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Six years ago, I'd been stripped of my pack status, my wolf connection severed by whatever poison Bella had used. Now they wanted me back? The irony wasn't lost on me.

The Los Angeles afternoon sun streamed through my apartment windows, catching dust motes that danced like falling stars. This small two-bedroom unit had been home for the past four years – not exactly the luxurious life I'd known as Silver Moon's princess, but it was mine, earned through sweat and determination.

My gaze drifted to the wall of framed newspaper clippings. "Rising MMA Star Claims Another Victory." "The Silent Storm: Undefeated in 15 Matches." "Mystery Fighter's Winning Streak Continues." Each headline marked another step in rebuilding my life from scratch.

Those first few months after being banished had been the hardest. Pregnant, alone, and cut off from my wolf – I'd never felt more vulnerable. The morning sickness hit just days after I'd crossed the Silver Moon territory border. At first, I'd blamed it on stress and the lingering effects of whatever drug Bella had used. But as weeks passed and my body changed, the truth became undeniable.

I remember sitting in that cold clinic waiting room, hands trembling as I stared at the positive pregnancy test. Just turned 18, no pack, no money, no wolf. The nurse had asked about the father, and I'd choked on the bitter truth – I couldn't remember his face. That night at the Mountain View Resort was still a drug-hazed blur.

But the first time I heard my baby's heartbeat, something shifted inside me. I wouldn't let Bella and Emma's treachery destroy two lives.

The sound of small feet pattering down the hallway pulled me from my memories. "Mom! Look what I drew in school today!"

Lucas burst into the living room, all boundless energy and bright smiles. At six years old, he was already showing signs of his werewolf heritage – enhanced strength, accelerated healing, and senses sharper than any human child's. His forest-green eyes, so different from my amber ones, sparkled with excitement as he thrust a piece of paper toward me.

"It's beautiful, baby." I pulled him close, breathing in his familiar scent – pine needles and sunshine, untainted by the bitterness of the adult world. The drawing showed two figures holding hands beneath a full moon. Simple, yet it made my throat tight with emotion.

"Teacher said we should draw our families," he explained, snuggling against me. "I drew you and me, and the moon because..." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "because we're special."

My heart clenched. From the moment Lucas could understand, I'd taught him to be careful about his "special" abilities. No showing off his strength at school.

"That's right, sweetheart." I kissed the top of his head, my fingers combing through his wild dark hair. "We are special. And that's why we have to be extra careful, remember?"

He nodded solemnly, but his attention had already shifted. "Can we have pizza for dinner? Jimmy at school said his mom lets him have pizza every Friday!"

I laughed, grateful for the simple concerns of childhood. "Go wash up and start your homework. We'll talk about dinner after."

As Lucas scampered off, I turned back to the Alliance letter. The position they offered was good – full housing provided, excellent salary, and most importantly, a chance for Lucas to grow up around others like him. But returning to that world meant facing old wounds, old enemies.

My phone buzzed with a text from my agent: “Another fight lined up next month. You in?”

Fighting had saved us in those early days. Having a baby and desperate for cash, I'd stumbled across an underground fight club. Even without my wolf's strength, years of combat training made me formidable. One fight led to another, and soon I'd built a reputation. The Silent Storm, they called me – quick, graceful, and lethal. No one knew I was channeling years of rage and betrayal into every punch.

The legitimate circuit came later after Lucas was born. Between matches and teaching at local dojos, I'd managed to create a stable life for us.

But lately, I'd noticed changes in Lucas. His "whispers" were getting stronger, his questions about our nature more frequent. He needed guidance I couldn't provide alone – not with my own connection to the wolf world severed.

A framed photo on the bookshelf caught my eye – my mother Olivia, radiant in her Silver Moon pack regalia. She'd died protecting the Shadow Fang heir from a wild wolf attack, the same kind now threatening our communities again. The attacks were growing bolder, closer to populated areas. How many more would die because the younger generation lacked proper combat training?

"Mom?" Lucas appeared in the doorway, homework folder in hand. "Are you okay? You feel sad."

"I'm not sad, baby." I held out my arms, and he immediately climbed into my lap. "Just thinking about some changes we might need to make."

"What kind of changes?" He blinks his beautiful green eyes.

I took a deep breath, inhaling his comforting scent. "How would you feel about moving somewhere new? Somewhere with other special people like us?"

His whole face lit up. "You mean there are more people who can hear the whispers?"

"Many more." I managed a smile, pushing down my own apprehension.

"But what about your fighting? And my school? And Leo?" The questions tumbled out in typical six-year-old fashion.

Leo, son of North Pack's alpha. my one true friend from the old days, who'd found me six months after my banishment and offered help without judgment. He'd been my rock through pregnancy, birth, and those sleepless early months with a newborn.

"Sometimes we have to make hard choices," I explained, echoing words my mother had once told me. "But I promise, wherever we go, we'll be together."