Sam spun through her oversized bedroom like a child wound too tight, shaking her head until her ponytail slipped loose. I watched from the edge of the bed, rolling my eyes.
"Hurry up," I told her. "Before your dad comes up here again."
He already had twice. The first time Sam was still in the shower, and I was standing in front of the mirror in nothing but lace and nerves, bra abandoned somewhere on the floor. The old staircase had groaned beneath heavy footsteps, and I'd frozen, heart stuttering.
I'd pretended not to notice the door easing open. No voice. No knock. Just presence.
So I'd made a show of it slowly pulling on my sweater, letting the fabric drag over my shoulders. When he finally knocked and pushed the door open for real, his voice was sharp with impatience, his gaze fixed everywhere but my face. He'd told us to hurry up before we were late.
He hadn't looked at me but I knew he'd been there.
I could still feel it, the way the air had shifted. The way my body had reacted before my mind caught up.
I told myself it was instinct. That after my eighteenth birthday, after everything started changing, my senses were simply too sharp. He was the Alpha powerful, dominant, impossible to ignore and the only adult male anywhere near me for miles since the night my parents died.
Still, I caught him avoiding being alone with me. Always finding a reason to leave a room, to call Sam in with us, to keep distance. And shamefully, I enjoyed it. The restraint. The way he clenched his jaw when I passed too close.
The Alpha of one of the most powerful families in the Northern region, unsettled by an orphaned wolf with no pack and nothing to lose.
It would have been laughable if I hadn't been wearing him down too.
Sam's hands suddenly landed on my shoulders, snapping me back to the present. "You're doing it again," she said. "Daydreaming. Did you hear anything I just said?"
I blinked. She was dressed now, backpack slung over her shoulder. Ready. "Sorry. Just… nervous about tomorrow."
She softened instantly, looping her arm through mine and steering me toward the door. "If anyone deserves to be Luna, it's you or me, P."
Princess. She'd been calling me that since we were kids. We'd promised each other long ago that whichever of us was chosen wouldn't let the title change her.
Secretly, I wasn't sure I wanted it at all.
Tomorrow, once the decision was made, I'd be leaving for Scotland. Luna or not. Sam didn't know yet, and when she did, she'd be furious but I needed answers. About my family. About why my parents were murdered. About why the Alpha who took me in watched me like I was both a responsibility and a threat to his self-control.
The driver was waiting when we stepped outside, rain misting the air. Sam waved back toward the house.
"Say goodbye to him," she urged. "He already thinks he's failing as a guardian."
I sighed and turned. "See you later, Marvis."
For a split second, his mouth curved not quite a smile. Something sharper. Then the door closed.
At school, the final evaluation passed in a blur. Strength. Control. Bite. I performed flawlessly. Too flawlessly. Whispers followed me down the hall about the orphan with no pack, no lineage, no right to stand among them.
By the time we got home, Thorn was in his study, the low murmur of a private meeting carrying down the hall. Sam and I started dinner together, laughing as we experimented with recipes neither of us really liked.
She grabbed my hands suddenly. "My dad's throwing a party for the graduates who choose to join his pack. Just one night. Please come."
Before I could answer, Thorn stepped into the kitchen. A fitted V-neck, sleeves pushed up, power rolling off him without effort.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked mildly.
Sam groaned. "I'm trying to convince P not to hide in her room."
His gaze landed on me steady, assessing, far too aware. "Why not, P?" he said. "Could be the last night you spend with your friends."
If it mattered to them both, I could endure one party.
Sam squealed and pulled me into a hug, dragging her father in with us. He hesitated just a fraction before his arm settled around my shoulder. His breath hitched. A sharp inhale, quickly masked by a cough.
"Don't stay up too late," he said gruffly. "Tomorrow's important."
As he stepped away, I was left standing there, pulse racing, knowing two things with absolute certainty:
I wanted him.
And leaving was the only way to make sure I never acted on it.