Chapter 46

As my vision cleared, I realized a grey wolf lay beside me, its warmth cocooning me against the cold. Its immense tail stretched over half of my small body, acting like a blanket. Despite its size, I felt no fear. Somehow, I already knew its name—a human name.

Oberon.

That was who he was, the wolf that shielded me from the chill of the night.

I sat quietly, watching him. My faint movements stirred him awake. Lifting his massive head, he brushed his furry forehead and ears against my cheek, a gesture so gentle it tickled. I couldn’t help but laugh. He nuzzled me with such tenderness, and in that moment, I felt something unfamiliar—peace, joy, and an almost tangible sense of being loved. Wrapping my arms around his thick neck, I pressed myself into his fur. For the first time since arriving at the orphanage, I felt safe.

Though we exchanged no words, I somehow understood he had to leave before anyone woke. Still, he assured me we’d meet again that evening. His thoughts felt as clear as spoken words. Whispering a soft goodbye, I watched as he leapt over the fence and disappeared into the woods.

That day, for the first time I could remember, I felt hope. I spent my hours anticipating something good. My usual defiance softened into quiet obedience. The nuns, ever quick to draw conclusions, declared my overnight kneeling had brought me divine revelation. I let them believe it. I even played along, accepting the name “Teresa” they’d been so insistent on. If it kept me out of trouble for a while, I didn’t mind.

When night fell and everyone was asleep, I snuck out of the dormitory. Slipping onto the porch, I waited. Suddenly, a man vaulted the fence, moving with inhuman speed. His dark grey hair was wild, and his scarred, tattooed body radiated strength. He was tall and fierce-looking, yet his eyes were calm and kind.

I knew him instantly.

When he knelt before me, his voice was steady and respectful. “Good evening, my Princess.”

“You’re the wolf who kept me warm, aren’t you? But how do I know that? How is any of this possible?” I asked, bewildered.

He stood, stepping closer. “I’m a werewolf,” he explained simply. “I can shift between my human and wolf forms.”

Though his words should have been shocking, they weren’t. The existence of werewolves felt as natural as breathing, as if I’d always known. Memories long buried began to surface, vivid and overwhelming.

“You’re Oberon…” I whispered. “But how do I know you’re Oberon?”

His smile was soft, reassuring. “We’ve met before. You lived among the pack once, Princess. Your heart remembers, even if your mind doesn’t.”

Though confusion swirled within me, I trusted him. My instincts insisted I could.

Leaving the orphanage was impossible, but Oberon led me to a secluded, crumbling bower far from the main building. It was an old, forgotten structure with a weathered bench, a perfect spot for secret meetings. And so, our nightly visits began.

Over time, Oberon revealed the truth of my past. I’d been born to werewolf royalty—a miracle child of two Alphas. My mother had led the Blood Moon pack, and my father, the Southern Moon pack. Their union forged a powerful alliance, and I was meant to solidify it. My birth was celebrated as a marvel, a symbol of hope. They called me “Princess.”

But the joy was short-lived.

I was different. Born without the wolf gene, I could never transform. Even a wolf’s bite wouldn’t change me. My difference made me an outcast. The day they discovered this, I was cast into the orphanage, the only child there who wasn’t truly an orphan.

The orphanage itself was a grim facade. Ostensibly a haven for abandoned children, it secretly served the pack’s interests. The nuns collected blood from every child, sending it to the pack’s labs for testing. Those with the potential to survive a wolf’s bite were marked as “chosen.” They received better treatment—more food, new clothes, and kindness. The rest, the “rejects,” were left to suffer neglect and cruelty.

I didn’t fit into either category. I was a broken anomaly, a mistake hidden away. My life at the orphanage was a nightmare of harsh labor, beatings, and loneliness. Oberon’s revelations shattered any lingering hope I had for adoption, but they also brought clarity. I finally understood why I was treated as less than nothing.

Oberon, however, remained my constant. He told me he was my mother’s loyal friend, though I sensed his feelings for her ran deeper. Bound by duty, she couldn’t stay with me, but Oberon had made her a promise—to protect me. Unlike her, he had no obligations to the pack’s hierarchy. My father, the infamous Cassius Marwood, cared little for an old warrior. That indifference allowed Oberon to visit me unnoticed.

When we first reunited, Oberon was in his forties, a retired warrior with a tragic past. His mate had been killed by an enemy pack while he served my mother. The loss left him solitary, but his devotion to my mother and her child never wavered.

Oberon didn’t just bring comfort—he brought purpose. When I told him about the bullying I endured, he vowed to teach me to fight. My training began under the stars, and though he never said it outright, I knew he wasn’t preparing me for battles with humans. He was arming me for a world of wolves—a world where survival would depend on my strength.