Chapter 29 Seeing is Believing

Chapter 29 Seeing is Believing
Sienna

I was trying. I really was.

Roman was giving me facts—structured, deliberate, almost like he understood exactly how my brain worked.

And I was taking them in, one by one, slotting them where I could.

But werewolves? A Moon Goddess? Fated mates?

I dealt in data. In models. In things that could be measured and proven. Not… folklore.

Still—he believed it. That much was undeniable. Not a hint of doubt in his voice. Not a flicker of uncertainty in his expression.

And that made me pause. Because people could lie…But they didn’t usually believe their own lies that completely.

So when he said pack…My brain tried to rationalize. A group. A hierarchy. A… cult maybe? A very structured, very convincing belief system—

And then he took me outside. Said he wanted to show me.

And called the dogs. “Morte. Diablo—come.”

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. They came running—fast, powerful, controlled chaos—and I instinctively stilled.

My body didn’t panic though. Not like it would have with people.

Animals made sense. They were honest.

Morte reached me first, stopping just short of impact, his energy vibrating through him as his tail wagged wildly.

Diablo followed, circling once before pressing against my side, solid and warm.

I let out a small breath. Okay. This I understood. Their excitement wasn’t aggression. It was… recognition. Affection.

My hand lifted almost automatically, brushing over Morte’s fur, then Diablo’s.
“Hello my beautiful boys,” I murmured.

My brain tried to process it—but before it could latch onto anything, Roman stepped back.

And started stripping. Oh. Oh no. I turned my head immediately. I did. For exactly half a second.

Because—Because—I had never seen a man like that before. Not like that.

He was… sculpted. Defined. Every line of muscle precise, like something out of a textbook diagram of perfection—but real. Moving. Alive.

My eyes flicked back before I could stop them. His chest—Broad. And there—on his right pec—a tattoo.

I couldn’t make it out from where I stood without being obvious about staring. Which I absolutely was not doing. Except—I was.

Because my gaze dropped. Lower. And—Oh. Oh my...he was built everywhere…long, thick…I gulped, heat flooding my face so fast it felt like I might combust.

He was—He was—"built like a Greek God” my libido supplied helpfully.

My brain short-circuited. Completely. I snapped my gaze away, cheeks burning, mortified beyond belief. “Stop looking,” I muttered under my breath.

“Bit late for that,” Roman’s voice came, amused.

I froze. Slowly turned my head. He was watching me. Smirking. “It’s all yours anyway,” he said casually. “You’re allowed to look.”

My face went nuclear. “Roman!”

He laughed softly—and then something shifted in his expression. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “My wolf is part of me...he also recognises you as his Mate. He will never hurt you.”

I nodded back. And then—Everything changed as I watched. Because I couldn’t not watch.

And what I saw—There was no illusion. No trick. No sleight of hand.

His body—It ‘changed’. Bones moved. Shifted. Reshaped. Muscle and form breaking and rebuilding into something else entirely. Something larger. Stronger. Impossible.

My entire understanding of reality—Shattered.

And when it was done—He stood there. Not a man. A wolf. Massive. Black. Majestic, wild, beautiful…my mind supplied.

Green eyes burning with intelligence that was unmistakably him.

My breath caught. Not in fear. In recognition. Because—I knew him. Not from now. From before.

From dreams I had been told to forget. From memories I had been told weren’t real.

My parents’ voices echoed faintly—"Just a dream, Sienna. Let it go.”

But it hadn’t been. Had it? Because standing in front of me— Was him. The same presence. The same pull. The same scent…the same feeling.

And then—Morte and Diablo dropped. Instantly. Completely. Heads down. Necks exposed. Submitting. To him.

And just like that—One of his facts locked into place… Alpha. Apex. Proven in front of my eyes.

But my brain didn’t spiral. Didn’t fracture under the weight of it. Because this—This was something I understood.

Animals didn’t lie. They didn’t pretend. They responded to truth. To instinct.

And everything in me—over and above Roman's assurance just knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

So I stepped forward. Slowly. Drawn by something I couldn’t explain.

His eyes followed me. Intelligent, watching, waiting. My fingers brushed through his black fur, soft, silky and I could feel his pleased reaction.

He licked my hand with his rough pink tongue, tail wagging.

My gaze though was fixed on his forehead. On the mark. White. Wing-shaped. Familiar. Very familiar. My breath hitched. Because I knew that too.

My hand lifted before I could stop it, fingers trembling slightly as they reached out—And touched it. Soft. Real. Warm beneath my skin. “My mark…” I whispered, disbelief threading through me.

I stroked it gently, trying to reconcile memory with reality. Dreams with truth.

And then the words slipped out—Barely a breath. “Wolfie…”My throat tightened. “I finally found you.”

The moment I said it—Something shifted. He could understand me and I could hear his thoughts, confused but sifting, searching for the memory.

"Wolfie..." I kept saying, to ground myself, to remind him, and the Wolf, he cocked his head to one side...as if he was listening and responding. 

And then from somewhere inside, unbidden my voice changed..became louder, with more authority, almost possessive,"My Wolfie" I said.

And then it happened....the wolf dropped. Fully. Lowering himself until his chest touched the ground. His thick muscular neck exposed. Submitting. To me.

My heart stuttered. And as if in silent agreement—Morte and Diablo followed.

All three of them lowered before me. Still, necks bared, offering me their submission and devotion. 

I didn’t question it. Didn’t pull away. I bent down and just kept stroking the mark, my fingers moving instinctively, like we had done this before.

And beneath my touch—A deep, rumbling sound vibrated through him. Soft. Content. Almost… a purr.

And in that moment—I didn’t need equations. Or theories. Or proof.

Because I knew. Somehow. Somewhere deep inside me—This wasn’t new. This wasn’t impossible.

This was something I had lost…
And finally…Found again.