Chapter 2 Silverstone Homecoming
Elara's POV
Vanessa pulled her hand back and held it up, wiggling her fingers so sunlight caught on a platinum ring set with a blood-red ruby. "Look what he gave me. He said it's his grandmother's heirloom. A family treasure. He told me I'm his destined Luna."
I looked at her, my silver-gray eyes meeting hers without a flicker of emotion. "You said I liked him?"
Vanessa's smile faltered slightly, confusion crossing her features.
"Nicholas?" I continued, my voice flat and cold. "That pathetic bully who can only feel powerful by tormenting those weaker than himself? A coward who needs to beat down others just to prove he exists. What exactly would I like about him? His hypocrisy? Or his complete incompetence?"
The color drained from Vanessa's face.
I felt my lips curve into a sardonic smile. "You know what? You two are actually a match made in heaven—a manipulative little saint and a two-faced hypocrite." I paused. "Congratulations on your 'happiness.' Truly."
"Elara!" Vanessa's pupils contracted sharply, her face going white as chalk. The sweet facade shattered completely as she hissed through clenched teeth, "What did you just say?!" Rage blazed in those blue eyes, raw and unfiltered.
"Ungrateful spawn!" Isabella's shriek cut through the air, her face twisted with fury. "Wild thing! You're nothing but a monster's vessel!"
Vanessa immediately shifted gears, placing a restraining hand on her mother's arm. "Mom, please don't be upset. She might be delirious from her injuries. She doesn't know what she's saying..."
The implication was clear—I was mentally unstable, unhinged.
Reginald appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His eyes flickered with something that might have been guilt or fear before he looked away. "Enough. Let her go."
I turned my back on all of them, dragging my suitcase down the path. As I crossed the boundary marking Shadowveil Pack's territory, I felt something inside me finally break free. Whatever illusions I'd clung to about family, about belonging—all of it crumbled to dust.
I stopped at the edge of their land and looked down at my wrist. The black thorny marks pulsed with dark energy, a visible reminder of the curse they'd bound me with.
I raised my hand and felt grim determination settle over me. The words came out low and clear. The incantation burned my throat like swallowing molten silver, each word severing invisible threads that had bound me to Vanessa for eighteen years.
I felt them snap one by one—the magical tethers that had siphoned my life force, that had transferred her injuries onto my body while she remained pristine.
The black thorns on my wrist flickered, then began to fade, dissolving like smoke.
I took a deep breath and smiled coldly at the empty air. The Blood Siphoning Hex was broken. Every injury, every curse, every fragment of darkness they'd dumped onto me would now return to its rightful owner.
I continued down the wilderness path, pulling my suitcase behind me. The midday sun beat down mercilessly, but I felt none of its oppressive heat. Instead, there was a strange lightness in my chest, as if I'd forgotten what it felt like to breathe freely.
After walking for what felt like an hour, I stopped and pulled out my phone. The contact was simply labeled "Father." My thumb hovered over the screen as I tried to imagine what I would say.
Before I could decide whether to press the call button, a deep rumbling sound reached my ears. I looked up to see a convoy of vehicles cresting the hill ahead—sleek black Cadillac Escalade SUVs, at least fifteen of them, moving in perfect formation down the narrow road.
They came to a synchronized halt thirty feet in front of me. Dust billowed around the convoy, and I instinctively took a step back, my silver-gray eyes narrowing with wariness. This level of coordination—ordinary Packs didn't operate like this.
The doors opened simultaneously with mechanical precision. Men in black tactical uniforms emerged, forming two straight lines on either side of the path. Over twenty elite guards, standing at rigid attention like soldiers.
My mind raced. What Pack had resources like this? What was happening?
The lead guard, built like a mountain with a scar cutting through his left eyebrow, dropped to one knee. The others followed in a synchronized wave.
"Miss!" they chorused, their voices ringing across the empty wilderness.
I stared at them, my pupils contracting in shock. This had to be some kind of mistake.
The center SUV's door opened, and a man stepped out. He was tall—easily six-foot-two—moving with fluid confidence in a deep gray three-piece suit. As he approached, sunlight caught his amber-gold eyes, making them glow. His deep brown hair, slightly curled and perfectly styled, framed a face of sharp angles—strong brows, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a warm smile.
There was something familiar about his features, something in the set of his eyes that tugged at recognition.
He stopped in front of me, his amber eyes studying my face. "You're Elara Blackwood?"
I nodded slowly. "I am."
His smile widened, genuine joy transforming his face. "I'm your brother, Damian Sterling."
My brain went blank. Brother. I stared at this stranger, trying to process what he'd just said.
"Brother...?" I whispered.
Damian's expression softened with affection. "Father sent me to bring you home. Our territory is in the Silver Moon Mountains. The entire mountain range—three thousand square kilometers of land—all belongs to our Pack."
Three thousand square kilometers. My pupils dilated sharply as the number registered. This was beyond anything I could have imagined.
"I apologize for the modest escort," Damian continued, and I realized he actually sounded apologetic. "I borrowed some guard units on short notice. I hope you don't mind that there aren't more vehicles."
Modest? There were fifteen SUVs and over twenty elite guards.
Damian raised his hand slightly, and the guards snapped to attention in unison. Their right fists struck their left chests with a sharp crack.
"Welcome home, Miss Sterling!" they shouted in chorus. "May the Moon Goddess bless Silverstone Pack!"
I felt heat flooding my face, my hands trembling slightly as I gripped my suitcase handle. This kind of attention—I wasn't used to being seen at all, let alone being the center of such overwhelming display.
"Let's... let's go," I managed, clearing my throat.
Damian's expression shifted as he took in my appearance more carefully. His amber eyes traced the exhaustion in my face, the way I favored my right shoulder. His brows drew together with concern and something harder.
"Why are you out here alone?" he asked gently, though there was steel beneath the warmth. "Didn't Shadowveil Pack send anyone to escort you? Where are their guards?"
I looked down at my scuffed suitcase, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't reveal the full extent of my humiliation.
Before I could formulate any response, a voice cut through the air—low, cold, and utterly commanding.
"Are we leaving, or not?"
I turned toward the sound, my eyes finding the half-open window of the center SUV's rear seat. Through the tinted glass, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows. But even that brief, obscured view sent a shock through my entire body.