Leaving the East Gate behind, Emory let out yet another heavy sigh, her collection of sighs growing by the hour since her departure from Broiia. It felt like her return was scripted with more twists than a mountain road, leaving little room to breathe, let alone enjoy the homecoming. Night had come almost unnoticed, the day slipping away as fast as sand through her fingers. She half-wished she was back in Broiia, away from the impending storm the next few days promised.

Straightening up in her seat, Emory stretched, trying to shake off the weariness. The full moon overhead highlighted the festive decorations strung up for the Hunter’s Moon festival. But her mind was far from festive, knotted in thoughts about the mysterious letter and her imminent face-to-face with the Lycan King. And then, out of the blue, she realized she was meeting Trey’s mate for the first time.

Upon arrival at the Chav’re estate, the magnificence of her family’s home surprised her. It used to be a rustic weathered wooden structure built from scratch by her parents, but was now a modern fusion of glass, steel, and timber. In place of the once worn and faded wooden gate, she was greeted by an immaculate steel gate; as if the pack’s legacy had been given a breath of fresh air. It was lovely, but she missed the rustic simplicity of the past.

The familiar scent of pine mingled with something new, triggering memories of a home she hadn’t seen for a decade. As they drove through the gates and approached the main house, anxiety built within her.

Then she saw her, standing there in front of the house, flanked by a bunch of women like she’d just stepped out of a fairy tale, her presence bright and inviting. Emory couldn’t help the involuntary groan; social niceties were not her forte, especially not feeling all travel-worn and out of sorts.

She was captivated by her pure beauty. Her flowing chestnut hair poured down her shoulders, framing a face that glowed with warmth and grace. The delicate features and the way her eyes sparkled with kindness made Emory feel instantly drawn to her, even if socializing wasn’t her strong suit.

As Emory stepped out of the car, Trey’s mate approached her with open arms, her infectious smile widening. “Emory, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she exclaimed, embracing her tightly. “I’m Kirsten.”

“Lovely to meet you too,” she replied, her voice betraying none of her inner angst.

Kirsten pulled back to look at her with a kind smile on her face. “You are a dead ringer for Luna Emmeline,” she observed, her voice soft with admiration.

Tommy, who had been quietly standing by, stepped forward to greet Kirsten with a respectful “Luna,” tipping Emory off to Kirsten’s significant role in Trey’s life—she was his mate. Emory’s surprise must have shown because Kirsten just smiled more warmly, if that was possible.

“Thanks, Tommy. I can take it from here,” Kirsten assured him, turning her attention back to Emory. She and her group of helpers guided Emory through the main house. “I’ve prepared a room for you, and I really hope you’ll like it,” Kirsten said, leading the way with an ease that suggested she’d spent quite some time making everything perfect.

Walking into the house, Emory was quiet, silently cataloguing all the changes. The place was practically unrecognizable, revamped under Trey’s rule—except for that one photo of their parents, a familiar rung in a sea of newness. It figured Trey would want to shake things up, make the place his own.

As she walked down the hallway connecting the main house to the annexes, her eyes landed on a picture of Nolan and Larc. It was like running into a memory, sudden and sharp.

“My deepest condolences for your loss, truly,” Kirsten said, her voice losing its earlier sparkle. “Would you like to meet Larc’s mate?”

How did she not know something so huge? Well, she didn’t know about Kirsten either. They’d all moved on without her, while she pined for when they’d reconnect, forgetting to live.

“He had a mate?” Emory spun around, her heart dropping to her stomach. Goddess, how she must hurt losing her mate and possibly hate Emory for it. After all, he had died on his way to bring her back home.

Kirsten’s nod confirmed it. “Yeah, for two years. She’s pretty torn up about everything. I’ll see if she’s okay to meet you or if she’s going to the wake.” Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Kirsten’s eyes widened. “Oh, goddess! The wake is in two hours. We’ve got to get you ready.”

She hurried on, “I got some clothes made for you. Let’s go check them out.”

Emory trailed behind, guilt, sorrow, and now, the rush to prepare for a wake she wasn’t emotionally ready for. The walk over the bridge and into the stunning en suite felt like moving through a blur. Emory shrugged off her cloak with a sigh. She barely glanced around the room, her mind too clouded to think on one thing.

When Kirsten sent the others away, closing the door with a soft click, Emory finally addressed the elephant in the room. “So, you’re Trey’s mate.” It was more of an observation than a question.

Kirsten’s nod came with a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, about five years,” she said, settling beside Emory on the couch like they were old friends catching up. “You know, your name came up a lot. You were always a part of their stories, always missed. It feels like I’ve known you forever, and Trey” well, he’s been really looking forward to this day.”

Hearing that felt weirdly comforting to Emory, like finding a piece of home in the most unexpected place.

“So have I. Just thought my grand re-entry wouldn’t be, you know, shadowed by such a sad event,” Emory let out, her words trailing off into a sigh. Suddenly feeling the need to shake off the day’s weight, she sprang up. “I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

Kirsten stood too, her expression understanding. “Emory, it’s not just Trey who’s been counting the days till you came back. The whole pack’s been on pins and needles, doing everything to keep you safe till the Hunter’s Moon. It’s kinda been our mission.”

“So, pretty much everyone knew I was the last hunter?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. The idea that she was the last to know her own fate was a bitter pill to swallow.

As Kirsten nodded, Emory felt this wave of annoyance bubble up inside her. But she squashed it down, forcing a smile. Now wasn’t the time to get into all that. She had to power through Larc’s wake.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. She reminded herself that tonight was about honouring Larc, not unravelling her personal saga. She was more annoyed at herself, really, realizing that while everyone else was moving forward, she’d been paused, stuck in her own bubble.

“Are you okay?” Kirsten’s gentle inquiry snapped her back to the moment.

“I have to be,” she said, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “If you don’t mind, I will take that bath now.”

“This way.” As Kirsten ushered her through the house, giving her a quick rundown of where’s where and what’s where, Emory barely absorbed the information. Her mind was already on the task ahead—untangling her hair, literally.

“I’m off to get ready, but I’ll swing back to check on you,” Kirsten promised, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious bathroom. “Your dress will be waiting on the bed, and I’ve picked a couple of artisans to help you out.”

Emory offered a grateful nod, her attention snapping back just as Kirsten slipped out, leaving her to face her reflection alone. Facing the mirror, she let out a heavy sigh—the champion sigh of the day, really—and dove hand-first into the chaos that was her hair. Each strand rebelled, ensnaring her fingers in a mess of red curls. She braced herself for the half-hour battle ahead, armed with nothing but a comb and sheer willpower.