Graduation day had arrived.
1 stood before the tall mirror in my dorm room, trying to slow my breathing as I adjusted the neckline of my ivory dress. The soft fabric felt light against. my skin, but the weight inside my chest made every movement feel heavy. My fingers trembled–not from nerves over walking the stage, but from everything this day meant.
This wasn’t just a celebration. It was a deadline.
A quiet sigh slipped past my lips as I studied my reflection. My long, curled hair had been carefully swept over one shoulder. My makeup was light–my eyes lined softly, cheeks brushed with a gentle flush. I looked like any other graduate–hopeful, accomplished, radiant.
To the human world, I was exactly that. A success story.
In my world I am a werewolf girl who had crossed species boundaries, integrated into human academia, and emerged triumphant. A symbol of progress and possibility.
But I knew better.
The mask I wore had been carefully constructed, layer by layer. Beneath it… was the truth.
Today wasn’t just the end of an academic chapter.
It was the day the rogues planned to strike.
I could still see Francesco’s face from that last, tense meeting in his office–his jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth, storm–gray eyes flashing with fury. Audrey had been there too, her nails digging crescent moons into her palms. The reports were clear. The rogues had grown bolder, more reckless thinking their plan was success.
And the rumors they whispered through the underground had a name.
The ill Luna. The Alpha’s weakness.
The girl who should’ve died.
How ironic, I thought, pressing a hand to my chest as if I could contain the ache there. They didn’t understand. What they thought was a weakness… had made me unbreakable.
My gaze drifted to the folded blue sash on my desk–the symbol of my academic achievement. I should have felt pride. And I did. But pride was tangled with something deeper. Something more fragile.
I hadn’t come to this university chasing dreams.
I had come here running; running from heartbreak. From rejection. From the broken bond that had shattered me.
Ruben… His name once burned like fire. Now, it barely stung—a faint echo of the pain that had nearly destroyed me. He’d chosen another. Power over. love. His future over our bond.
And I had chosen escape.
A plane ticket to Florence. A last–ditch scholarship application that shouldn’t have worked. A trembling hope that maybe, just maybe, I could rebuild myself in a place where no one knew my name,
It was Maria who had made that hope real. A quiet helper from my former pack, too clever for her own good, too kind to stay silent. She was the one who handed me the application. The one who told me, softly but firmly, that I was more than the rejection I’d endured.
“You still have something inside you,” she’d whispered. “Don’t let them bury it.”
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Her words had become my anchor.
I hadn’t realized it then, but leaving my homeland was the first choice I’d made for myself in years.
And then came the museum.
It had started as an accident. A wrong turn. A hidden door.
And there she was.
An old, forgotten portrait. A woman cloaked in moonlight, sorrow etched in every brushstroke. Eyes that seemed to look right into mine.
Anastasia Totti.
I know who she was at the time and just want to paint her. I sketched her image from memory, painted her not with technique, but with instinct. Grief recognized grief, even across time.
She is the late mate of the Lycan Alpha. The ruler of Italy’s
werewolf territories. The ghost that haunted his halls–and his heart.
Only later did I learn how the Alpha react with it. Then… I met him.
Francesco Totti Lycaon.
The name alone carried weight. The most powerful werewolf in Italy. The Alpha Lycan whose strength made others bow, whose silence commanded entire rooms.
I’d been terrified the first time I stood before him.
He was untouchable. Cold. Dangerous.
But week by week, my fear gave way to fascination. I began to see past the armor.
The grief in his silence.
The warmth in his gaze when he thought I wasn’t looking.
The way he’d linger in shadows, guarding me when I didn’t even know I was in danger.
He never pushed. He simply… was. There.
Protecting. Watching. Waiting.
And somehow, quietly, I fell in love.
Not with the Alpha Lycan.
But with the man behind the title.
The man who called me ‘mia amore‘ like it was a vow.
The man who left blue roses–Anastasia rosés–on/my birthday.
The man who held me beneath the moonlight and whispered nothing, only his presence, steady and real.
He was never meant to replace Ruben.
He was something else entirely. A second chance. A chosen mate.”
Footsteps approached behind me, light but sure. Before I could turn, warm arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a solid, familiar chest.
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I didn’t need to look. I already knew.
“Francesco,” I whispered, a smile forming on my lips.
He met my eyes in the mirror his gaze soft, stripped of the Alpha’s sharp edge. It was the way he only looked at me.
“What’s in your mind, mia luce?” he asked,
I turned to him, wrapping my arms around
“Too much,” I admitted. “Memories. Fea
voice low and rough, threaded with concern.
neck and pressing my forehead to
He hummed low and buried his face in my neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me.
I trembled at his words. He said them like I was sacred. Like I mattered.
his.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” I said, threading my fingers into his hair. “You
ved
me,
Francesco.”
He shook his head, lips brushing my temple.
“No, amore. You saved me first.”
He leaned back slightly and glanced toward the window where golden sunlight streamed in “Are you ready?”
I hesitated, then whispered, “Not just yet.”
He didn’t push.
He just held me tighter.
And for a few precious moments, we stood still. Just us. The world outside could wait.
The amphitheater brimmed with life. Laughter and chatter echoed beneath the high archways. Sunlight glinted off polished chairs and camera lenses. Professors lined the front, smiling proudly. Rows of students filled the stage, dressed in gowns and caps–human and werewolf alike.
I walked tall, blue sash across my chest. Audrey strode beside m
step.
e me, the trained warrior in her hidden form, her lilac dress softening the sharpness of her
“Smile a little,” she nudged with a grin. “This is your moment. Let us handle the rest.”
+smiled faintly, touched by her protectiveness.
Then I saw them–Maria, Patricia and Louis, seated near the front, beaming. Monica sat beside them, her arm still in a sling, but her expression radiant.
And then… I saw her.
Katrina…
She wasn’t seated. She stood at the far edge, arms crossed, eyes locked on
met, I felt it.
Shock. Rage. Hatred.
Why didn’t I see it before?
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mine. She spoke with Jose and Angela casually, but the second our eyes
Chapter 91
The girl I’d called my friend. The girl who had tried to poison me.
Jose and Angela, unaware, waved excitedly and moved on–leaving her alone.
Be patient, love, Francesco’s voice drifted through the mind–link, calm as a still sea.
He knew me.
He knew what I wanted to do.
But I breathed deeply and held my ground before I smiled at her–small, knowing.
She must have thought I’d die. That her plan had worked.
And yet… here I stood. Alive. Healthy. Whole.
“Kat, what’s wrong with you?” Jose asked, frowning as Katrina stood frozen.
She didn’t answer. Just stared at me.
And I knew–she knew.
The music began, and we took our positions. The ceremony began.
The next hour passed like a dream.
Names were called. Cheers rose. Professors beamed. Students grinned and posed.
And then… My name.
A hush.
Then thunderous applause…. Not just from my friends. But from others. Humans who had come to respect me and werewolves who had seen me rise as their Luna.
Professors who had once doubted me—and now smiled with pride.
I walked the stage, heart racing. I shook hands. Accepted my certificate. And held back the tears that threatened to fall.
This wasn’t just graduation.
It was proof…. Proof that I had survived. That I had rebuilt myself.
That I was no one’s weakness.
But as I returned to my seat, my smile faded slightly.
Because this wasn’t over.
Not yet.
The rogues were here.
They believed I was poisoned, weakened. That would fall. That I would break Francesco by dying in his arms.
They were wrong.
I’m still standing. And I’m not alone.
11:19 Mon, 14 Ju
Chapter 91
‘There are many of them,‘ I mind–linked, my thoughts steady and clear.
Francesco’s answer came like thunder wrapped in silk. ‘Let them come.‘
And as the wind shifted through the open–air amphitheater, I felt it.
The end of one chapter.
And the beginning of war.
