Aria’s POV

Rowland shrugged, but I didn’t miss the tension creeping through his shoulders. "Clarence’s funeral invite. Should’ve been harder to get, considering Patrick’s tried to freeze you out of everything. Suddenly, he’s rolling out the welcome mat? Weird."

I smiled, my eyes on the blurring view. "Trouble might be unnece. He might actually want me there."

Rowland snorted. "It won’t be pleasant for him."

My wolf growled in agreement.

By the time we arrived at the cathedral grounds, hunger gnawed at my gut. Skipping breakfast had been a mistake. Rowland noticed, steering me straight to the snack tables without hesitation. My wolf perked, tail twitching at the scent of sugar.

It was an open-air funeral. White chairs lined the lawn, black banners fluttering like caged shadows. Guests draped in muted blacks and greys moved like ghosts until Rowland and I stepped into view.

I in magenta. Rowland in blazing red.

Their gazes sliced into us. Different reporters clicked their cameras like distant gunfire.

Rowland thrust a strawberry cake at me. "Eat before you pass out."

I took a bite. The sweetness hit my tongue and I made sure to smile when reporters zoomed in.

"They’re photographing you," I murmured between bites.

"Us," Rowland corrected, tossing fruit into his mouth and gagging dramatically. "Poison. Definitely poison. Patrick’s trying to assassinate me via pastry."

His volume carried, causing heads to turn. A ripple of discomfort spread.

My wolf smirked.

Among the crowd, Rowland diffused tension like static. He ran a hand through his hair. Reporters swarmed. Guests stiffened. And still, he played for the camera, all swagger and wolfish charm.

Then there was a cough.

Collins stood behind him, stiff as iron. "Alpha Rowland, Alpha Nathan requests your presence."

Nathan.

His name hit like cold water down my spine. My wolf went still, ears pinned forward, my heart beating hard.

Why was he here?

Rowland rolled his eyes. "Why does Uncle Nathan want to see me?"

"I’ve only been asked to deliver the message," Collins replied.

Rowland’s irritation flared like a spark then simmered. He turned to me, his voice dipping low. "Uncle Nathan’s here. I need to go and meet him. Please be careful."

Before I could answer, a voice cut in:

"She won’t be alone."

Turning around, we saw

Chloe and Amelia approaching. They flanked me instantly, like wolves joining a pack formation. Amelia winked. She wore a mint-green dress that fluttered like spring amid the gloom. Chloe on the other hand was dresses in all black but in leather and wide-legged pants adorned with blood red accessories.

The four of us stood there, a riot of color in a sea of shadows. A threat wrapped in beauty.

Rowland huffed. "Fine. Fine. I’ll be back."

I waved him off. "Go. I’m not prey."

My wolf pressed against the inside of my ribs.

Chloe dragged me toward the rest of the desserts like a wolf claiming territory. Amelia followed, grumbling about pastries.

Chloe bit into her cake and gagged. "This tastes like depression and budget cuts. If Patrick is going to fake a woman’s death for a decade, he could at least spring for edible catering."

Her voice wasn’t loud. But it carried.

Patrick who had newly arrived at the podium heard it and stiffened. His aura hit like wet smoke.

Amelia snickered behind her hand. Chloe met his glare with one of her own, a wolf challenging another.

Patrick forced a smile and addressed the crowd. "Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here. This is a memorial service for Clarence, the woman who saved my wife, Mrs. Darvin, over ten years ago."

"Recently, there have been rampant rumors about Ms. Clarence ’returning from the dead.’

My vision tunneled for a moment.

Patrick continued, his tone oily and smooth as poison.

"For that reason, I have chosen this funeral as an opportunity to clarify things and put these rumors to rest."

Nathan’s POV

Collins led Rowland toward my car, and the moment the door cracked open, a rush of icy air cut through the heat of the day. My wolf bristled beneath my skin, a restless growl rumbling in my chest the way thunder sits behind storm clouds.

Rowland climbed inside and the scent of his wolf hit me. He froze when our eyes locked. I could feel my gaze shift, my pupils sharpening, the faint ring of silver bleeding into the dark. A side effect of holding back the wolf. Or maybe just holding back everything I couldn’t say.

His heartbeat stuttered for half a second. Good, he should be uneasy.

"Been sticking close to Aria recently?" I asked, my voice low, an edge of command lacing each word. I hadn’t meant to sound like I was interrogating him but hell, I wasn’t going to pretend I didn’t want answers.

He sprawled across the seat like he owned it, like he wasn’t sitting next to a man who could rip his throat out in under a second if provoked. Legs stretched out, arms thrown back, relaxed in that cocky way only unmated wolves with nothing to lose can be.

"Of course," Rowland said. "I came to Asterfell to find her. Now that I’ve found her, I’m not leaving until I take her back to Veridale."