My father's reaction to learning his late wife had been a werewolf and his daughter was following in her footsteps was not what I expected.

"I always wondered when this day would come," he said quietly, after Caleb had demonstrated the reality of shapeshifters by partially transforming his hand into a clawed wolf paw—a controlled partial shift that had impressed even me.


"You knew?" I stared at him, stunned. "All this time, you knew what Mom was?"

Dad nodded, his familiar face lined with a sadness I recognized but now understood differently. "Of course I knew. I loved your mother completely, Eve. Every part of her—human and wolf."

"But you never said anything," I whispered, hurt despite my relief at his acceptance. "Even when she died, when I suspected there was more to the story—"


"I promised her," he interrupted gently. "Eleanor made me swear that if anything happened to her, I would keep you away from the werewolf world. She believed it was the only way to keep you safe."

"Safe from what?" I demanded. "The hunters who killed her?"


Dad's gaze shifted to Caleb, who sat beside me on our living room sofa, a solid, reassuring presence. "Among other threats," Dad said carefully. "Your mother's research had made her... controversial in certain circles."

"What exactly was she researching?" Caleb asked, leaning forward with interest. "We know it involved bloodline abilities, but the specifics were lost when she died."

Dad hesitated, clearly weighing how much to reveal. "Eleanor was documenting evidence that the separation between werewolf packs was artificial—a political construct rather than a biological necessity. She believed that pack bonds could extend beyond traditional bloodlines, that the territorial disputes and power struggles were cultural, not instinctual."

"That would have been... revolutionary," Caleb said slowly. "And threatening to those whose power depends on maintaining pack divisions."

"Like Marcus," I suggested.

Dad's eyes sharpened. "Marcus Blackwood? He's still alive?"

"Very much so," Caleb confirmed grimly. "And still consolidating power. He's been acting as Alpha since my father's death, though the position was meant to be temporary until I came of age."

"Be careful of him," Dad warned. "He was one of the most vocal opponents of Eleanor's research. He believed in blood purity, in maintaining strict boundaries between packs."

This new piece of information settled uneasily in my mind. Marcus had known my mother, had opposed her work. Had he been involved in her death? The suspicion I'd felt earlier grew stronger.

"Dad," I said carefully, "do you think Mom's accident was really an accident?"

Pain flashed across his features. "No," he admitted quietly. "I've always believed she was killed because of what she discovered. But I could never prove it, and without proof, making accusations against powerful werewolves would have only put you in danger."

"What did she discover?" Caleb pressed. "Something specific must have triggered the attack."

Dad stood up, moving to the bookshelf where he kept his academic works. From behind a row of linguistics texts, he pulled out a small leather-bound journal I'd never seen before.

"She gave me this the day before she died," he said, returning to his seat. "Told me to keep it hidden, that it contained evidence that could change everything for werewolf kind." He held it out to me. "I think it's time you had this, Eve. It's your heritage, your mother's legacy."

With trembling hands, I took the journal, feeling the weight of its secrets. "Have you read it?"

He shook his head. "It's written in a code I couldn't decipher—some combination of ancient werewolf symbols and a cipher system Eleanor created. I believe she meant it for you, when the time was right."

I opened the journal carefully. The pages were filled with strange markings—some resembling runes or pictographs, others more like mathematical equations. Nothing I could make sense of immediately.

"I might be able to help with this," Caleb offered. "The Blackwood archives contain records of old werewolf writing systems."

"I'd appreciate that," I said, closing the journal and holding it protectively. This was my mother's voice reaching out to me across the years, perhaps explaining why she'd hidden such an essential part of my identity from me.

Dad cleared his throat, his gaze moving between Caleb and me. "So," he said, with forced lightness, "I gather you two are... involved? Beyond this werewolf business?"

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "It's complicated."

"I care deeply for your daughter, sir," Caleb said formally. "My initial approach was... less than forthright, which Eve has every right to hold against me. But my feelings for her are genuine."

Dad studied him with the penetrating gaze that had intimidated generations of linguistics students. "Eleanor always said werewolves mate for life," he remarked casually. "Is that true, Mr. Blackwood?"

"Dad!" I protested, mortified.

"It's a fair question," Dad insisted. "If my daughter is entering your world, I need to understand what that means for her future."

Caleb met his gaze steadily. "The mate bond is real, though rarer than legends suggest. It's not something that can be forced or manufactured—it either exists or it doesn't."

"And with Eve?" Dad pressed.

Caleb's eyes flicked to mine, something vulnerable in their amber depths. "I believe it could," he said quietly. "But that's not a decision I would make unilaterally. Eve deserves to understand her heritage, to come into her power, before making any permanent commitments."

His answer seemed to satisfy my father, who nodded thoughtfully. "Well, at least you respect her agency. That's a start."

The conversation shifted to more practical matters after that—what to expect during my first transformation, how to manage the increasing symptoms of my awakening wolf, security measures to protect against potential threats. Dad absorbed it all with the same methodical attention he gave to learning new languages, asking insightful questions that sometimes surprised even Caleb with their perception.

By the time Caleb left that evening, I felt both exhausted and relieved. Having my father know the truth, having his support, lifted a weight I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.

"He's a good man," Dad said as we watched Caleb's car disappear down our street. "Reminds me a bit of your mother—that same intensity, that sense of responsibility."

"He lied to me," I reminded him, though the accusation held less heat than it once had.

"For what he believed were the right reasons," Dad pointed out. "Just as your mother and I did." He put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug. "The question is whether you can forgive him—and us—for trying to protect you in the wrong way."

I leaned into his embrace, drawing comfort from his familiar scent and steady presence. "I'm working on it," I admitted. "It's just a lot to process."

"I know, sweetheart." He kissed the top of my head. "But you're stronger than you know—just like Eleanor. You'll find your way through this."

His confidence bolstered me as I prepared to face the next challenge: returning to the Blackwood estate, not as Caleb's pretend girlfriend, but as a newly awakening werewolf with a complicated heritage and an even more complicated relationship with the Alpha heir.

The following morning, I texted Harper that I was feeling better and would be back in classes the next day. I owed her a proper explanation at some point, but for now, a white lie about a bad flu would have to suffice. Some secrets weren't mine alone to share.

Lucas picked me up at noon, his easy smile a welcome contrast to the intensity of recent days. "Looking better," he observed as I slid into the passenger seat. "Less like you're about to jump out of your skin."

"The full moon passing helped," I admitted. "Though everything still feels... heightened. Smells, sounds, emotions."

"That's normal," he assured me. "Your senses will continue to sharpen as your first shift approaches, but it won't be as overwhelming as during the full moon."

"Is that why Caleb sent you instead of coming himself?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual. "Because my emotions are heightened?"

Lucas shot me a knowing look. "Partly. He's also tied up in council meetings all morning—fallout from revealing the truth to you without Marcus's approval." He hesitated. "And yes, he's giving you space to process everything without the added complication of... whatever's developing between you two."

"Is it that obvious?" I sighed.

"To anyone with functioning eyes and a nose," Lucas confirmed with a grin. "Werewolves can smell attraction, you know. The pheromones are distinctive."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "That's mortifying."

"It's natural," he corrected. "And for what it's worth, Caleb's scent changes around you too. In ways I've never witnessed before, and I've known him since we were cubs."

The revelation sent a flutter of warmth through me despite my embarrassment. "It's all so complicated," I sighed. "A week ago, I thought he was just an arrogant businessman with control issues. Now he's a werewolf Alpha heir who might be my... what? Fated mate?"

"Life's funny that way," Lucas said philosophically. "Just when you think you have it figured out, the moon shifts and everything changes."