Chapter 27
Skye’s POV
Adrian gazed upward at the brilliant canopy of stars, seemingly unbothered by my social fumbling.
“You don’t need to apologize for asking,” he finally said, his voice gentle. “Their stories aren’t secrets. In fact, they’re proud of their journeys–their scars are
badges of survival, not marks of shame.”
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He gestured toward a small wooden bench nestled among flowering desert plants, their pale blossoms luminous in the moonlight.
We sat side by side, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet with enough space
between us to maintain propriety.
“Venus wasn’t always called Venus,” Adrian began, his amber eyes reflecting the starlight. “She chose that name after losing her arm–after the goddess who remained beautiful and powerful despite being broken.” He paused, his expression somber. “She was once Luna to an Alpha in the Midwest. When she couldn’t conceive after three years of marriage, her mate became… cruel.”
My stomach tightened at the implications. In werewolf society, a Luna’s primary duty was often considered to be producing strong offspring, particularly sons who might inherit the Alpha bloodline.
“The abuse escalated over years,” Adrian continued. “One night, he went too far. She fought back–and in the struggle, she killed him. His voice remained steady, matter–of–fact. “She lost her arm in the fight, and her home in the aftermath. His pack wanted her executed for killing their Alpha, even though it was self–defense.”
I thought of Venus’s confident demeanor, her sharp intelligence, the way she commanded respect despite her disability. How many believed that without two arms, a werewolf was essentially useless?
“And Lydia?” I asked softly. “The mask…”
Adrian’s expression darkened. “Lydia has witch blood in her lineage–not uncommon among some older werewolf bloodlines. The Alpha’s mate in her former pack accused her of using ‘lewd magic‘ to seduce her husband. It wasn’t true, but the Luna had power and influence.”
He paused, his jaw tightening. “They cut off her nose as punishment, coated the wound with wolfsbane to prevent healing. Lydia retaliated–she poisoned the Luna and fled. To this day, she can’t repair the damage to her face.”
I winced, instinctively reaching up to touch my own nose. The cruelty seemed medieval, something from centuries past rather than our modern world.
“Because of her witch heritage, Nadia was just as suspicious of Lydia as she was of you initially,” Adrian added with a hint of irony. “Now they’re close friends. Lydia proved herself to be extraordinarily loyal and kind–hearted, despite what was done to her.”
A small, irrational part of me felt relieved at this information–not about Lydia’s suffering, but that Nadja’s initial hostility toward me wasn’t necessarily personal.
‘What about Garrett?” I asked, remembering the young man’s uneven gait. “Was he born with his condition?”
Adrian shook his head, his eyes reflecting a controlled anger. “Garrett was once considered one of the fastest wolves in North Americ the Werewolf Racing Festival when he was just seventeen. People said he was among the top three fastest wolves on the continent.”
I waited, sensing the turn in the story.
ook first place in
“His stepbrother couldn’t handle being outshined. During a hunt, he ambushed Garrett, gouged out his right kneecap entirely–a wound so severe that even werewolf healing couldn’t regenerate what was completely removed.” Adrian’s hands clenched briefly. “When Garrett’s mother begged him not to press charges against his stepbrother, literally kneeling before him in tears, he chose to leave home instead.”
I thought of Garrett’s intelligence, the quiet dignity in his movements despite his disability. “And now?”
Adrian’s expression softened. “He’s still the fastest wolf around–just not in the physical world. Online, in the digital realm, no one can match his speed and skill. He’s our intelligence specialist, our shield against those who would use technology against us.”
It was impressive how Adrian had helped these wolves transform their trauma into strength, finding new purposes that honored their abilities rather than focusing on what they’d lost.
Chapter 27
“And Marcus?” I asked, thinking of the blind security chief.
“Marcus was born blind, Adrian said simply. His parents abandoned him, leaving him on the doorstep of an elderly Omega who raised him as her own. His blindness forced his other senses to develop to extraordinary levels–his hearing and scent detection abilities are unmatched.”
Adrian smiled slightly. “After his foster mother died, he wandered alone for years. He was actually the first to join Oasisborn Pack, helped me establish our territory. He can sense danger before anyone else, can track by sound alone. His disability became his greatest strength.”
The cool desert breeze carried the scents of night–blooming flowers and distant water as I absorbed these stories.
I felt a profound kinship with these wolves–these outcasts who had refused to become rogues despite being rejected or damaged by their original packs.
For werewolves, who are instinctively pack–oriented, being without family or community often hurt more than physical injury. I recognized my own journey in theirs–the pain of rejection, the struggle to find meaning and purpose afterward, the determination to survive.
Looking at what they had endured, my own painful experience with Leon seemed almost trivial by comparison. And yet, as Adrian had said, pain wasn’t something to be compared or ranked. Each person’s suffering was valid in its own way.
‘Your council members have my deepest respect,” I said sincerely, meeting Adrian’s gaze. “What they’ve built here, what you’ve all built together… it’s remarkable.”
Adrian nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes warm with appreciation for my understanding.
A question that had nagged at me since our first encounter suddenly resurfaced. “Adrian,” I began carefully, “may I ask you something personal?”
He turned toward me fully, his expression open. “Of course.”
“Your scent- I hesitated, unsure how to phrase this politely. “You carry the scent of the ocean, of salt spray and coastal winds. But we’re in the desert. You clearly didn’t grow up here.”
Lgestured to the arid landscape around us. “Why would you establish a pack in an environment so different from your native one? Why build Oasisborn here, of all places?”
Adrian’s eyes seemed to search mine before he answered, as if deciding how much to reveal.
Finally, he asked, “Have you ever heard of Stormhowl Pack?”
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Thank you! People who carry their wounds like marks of shame serve to further victimize themselves. I’ve never understood it. My childhood was one long trauma the…
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