Magnus's POV Greenbamboo Court lived up to its name-quiet, remote, almost hidden from the rest of the Shadowbane territory. I had lived here with my mother once, long before power had settled on my shoulders, and even after claiming the Alpha mantle, I never felt the need to move. The moment we stepped into this part of the compound, Aysel drew in a breath like she'd finally been released from the suffocating air of the main hall, where Sanchez bloodlines gathered in one toxic cloud of tension and unsaid hostility. If not for the rain, she would have wandered everywhere. Instead, I brought her straight to my den-my private quarters. She'd never been here. From the cramped little apartment she and I once squeezed into, to the sprawling villa I later gave her, we had always lived together. My old den... I barely set foot in it anymore. Her first reaction was immediate: Cold. The entire den was shaped in steel-toned hues, bones of metal and shadows, not a single touch of vibrant life. Everything arranged with precision, not a single frivolous ornament-very much the opposite of our shared home, where she filled every corner with snacks, plushies, fresh flowers, and where Daron's toys were always scattered around like a mischievous wolf pup had made the territory his own. The curtains here were thick. I didn't bother opening them-just flicked on the lights. "Dinner won't be ready for a bit. Go shower and change first," I told her. Rain clung to her skin and scent; she couldn't be comfortable like this. In the wardrobe, an entire row of new-season female garments stood beside my monochrome suits. Those splashes of color-silk, wool, soft fabrics-were the liveliest thing in this cold den. If someone didn't know better, they might think this room already had two rightful occupants. Aysel didn't move. Instead, she waved me off to fetch clothes for her-lazy little Moonvale rose. Everything in that wardrobe existed in her exact sizes anyway. "Long pants? It's cold with the rain," I asked. "Mm..." she answered vaguely, already distracted."What color?" "Whatever matches you," she said, fingers drifting toward the medals on my shelf. I looked down at my clothes-black and white. Everything matched me. So that meant I could pick whatever. She flitted around the room, touching my medals, books, my pen holder, the cushions-her energy seeping into the cold space like sunrise through frost. Then she stilled. At the bedside table. Her eyes fixed on an old photograph. The clothes I chose for her were soft, light-colored-for warmth and comfort. I set them at the end of the bed and walked over. I slid my arms around her waist from behind, my chin settling on her shoulder. "That's the only picture I have with her," I murmured. Raya. Her entire pregnancy had been a storm of fragile health. After my birth, she slipped further, weighed down by severe postnatal depression. Even in such a state, she had to guard a newborn from the circling predators of Shadowbane-wolves who smiled with their teeth, waiting for a mother too weak to defend her young. She had no energy left for documenting milestones or tender scenes. For a long stretch, she couldn't even bear to look in a mirror-the once-brilliant performer reduced to a caged soul inside a powerful but hostile fortress. I remembered it clearly. The one good day. The day before, Ulric Sanchez-my father-had finally agreed to the divorce she'd begged for. For the first time in months, her eyes were clear. She woke early, lifted me into her arms, and took me to the garden. Morning light filtered through the leaves when she snapped the picture. Neither of us knew it would be the last day she'd ever spend with me. Aysel reached out, brushing her fingers gently against the small, lost-looking boy in the photo-the boy pressed stiffly against his mother's chest, trying to look strong, already learning how to hide fear."Your mother was beautiful," she whispered. "And she loved you very much." Even if Raya hated Ulric, she never turned that hatred on me. Sometimes she hurt me-guilt, illness, despair twisting her mind. But even then, pain hit her harder than it hit me. Until her last breath, she'd shielded me with her body, winning me one more moment of life. I didn't correct Aysel. Love was a scent wolves could always smell. And Raya's love had been carved into my bones. The one who deserved hatred was Ulric. He'd begged for Raya, wooed her, married her-then failed her, neglected her, shackled her, refused to let her go. Every wound she carried, every fracture of her spirit, began with him. So I let him rot in his chair now, bound to wheels and regret, watching everything he once threw away slip from his useless hands. Aysel turned, wrapping her arms around me. "Where is she now? Let's visit her together," she said softly. "Southmount Cemetery," I replied, brushing her hair. Shadowbane had a family cemetery, but Ulric had insisted Raya be buried there when she died. Once I came of age, I moved her to Southmount, placing her beside my maternal grandparents. Ulric raged, but it didn't matter. "When the rain stops, we'll go see her," Aysel said quietly. I felt my lips curve. "Mm." Too soft. My little rose-so easily stolen by a scar and a sad story. If she would pity only me in this lifetime, Rafe and I could die satisfied. After I coaxed her into showering, she came out wearing the clothes I'd chosen.I did have decent taste. I wasn't about to let my mate wander around in something offensive to the eyes. She dove straight into my arms the moment I walked out of the other bathroom. "When's dinner?" she asked. "Hungry?" "Not really. I just think tonight won't end peacefully." Her eyes flicked up to me, curious. "What illness does your Aunt Johanna have? Did she live in Shadowbane before? Everyone seemed... tense around her." She'd assumed Johanna lived outside the Pack with Lyall Sanchez, but clearly there was history she wasn't aware of. Even Kurt Sanchez kept glancing at Johanna when he thought no one noticed-until his mate painfully pinched him into proper behavior. I hesitated. The past generation was a labyrinth of politics, betrayal, and bloodshed. Even I didn't know where to start. "Johanna's dealing with heart failure. And complications. Lyall wants to use the family's influence to get her a transplant." Money wasn't the issue-Shadowbane had deeper problems than coin. Lyall simply couldn't find a match fast enough. And for some conditions, he needed pharmaceutical support from the Shadowbane-funded medical labs in the Redmoon territories. There might even be further treatments needed later. "That doesn't sound like a big problem for your family," Aysel said, puzzled. "The problem," I said, looking at her bright eyes-eyes waiting for gossip like Daron waiting for treats, "isn't the illness.It's Johanna." She leaned in. "Johanna's father," I explained, lowering my voice, "was once Bastien Sanchez's rival. When he lost, his company collapsed. He threw himself off a building. Her mother abandoned her and fled overseas."