Braiden I never knew her name. She was called 313, and I was called 311. They never called us by our names. We called each other Beauty and Beastie when we spoke through the vent joining our cells. Never Ava and Braiden. This was after I told her that story one night when she was brought back to her cell crying. “What happened to them?” the little girl asks me, the hiccup preceding her question alluding to the fact that just a while ago, she had been sobbing. “Love. Love broke the curse, and the Beast became a prince. They lived happily ever after.” “A prince like you!” the little girl whispers excitedly, remembering how I told her that I was a prince and that my family would come looking for us. They would find us soon. But we had to ke ep it a secret. “I will call you Beastie,” she says, the smile on her face heard in the tone of her voice even though I couldn’t see her. “And I will call you Beauty,” I say as she giggles quietly. Now, it seems strange that neither of us prompted the other for a name. It would have made things so much clearer. We never spoke face to face, having only seen each other once when guards dragged us in opposite directions from our rooms after the alarm bells sounded. That was the same day I was rescued. As the son of the werewolf royal family, my rescue was prioritized, and I was amongst the lucky few who were freed. But it appears not everyone was so fortunate. When I asked the royal guards if they found anyone matching Beauties' description, they told me none of those wolves saved matched the little girl described. This means Ava must have been moved to another Underground location. She must have been held captive for another year as she was only given to The Bloodmoon Pack when she was eight. She went from one terrible situation to another when she was given to Patrick and Gloria Smith. With Alpha Alexander’s father—Alpha Maddox—dead, and Alpha Alexander not privy to the details, we had to follow another route. Who were Ava’s parents? They knew who The Underground was. “Braiden?” Ava’s voice pulls me from my thoughts as she stands in the doorway of my office at our house. After the revelation that we had met before, Ava could not remember beyond the recollection of the name she called me back then and my face. Sometimes, I think not being able to remember is a blessing. While Ava did not remember me, she had plagued me for years. Her tear-streaked face as she was dragged away was the star of many of my nightmares. And the fuel behind my desire to shut down these organizations. She has had a shower and looks somewhat refreshed, though the tension in her shoulders remains—residual effects from her session with Dr. Lewis this morning. “You ready?” She quirks her head to the side as she leans against the door frame, her beautiful green eyes dragging across my features, assessing me as I am her.
“I’m always ready for you.” She rolls her eyes at these words, but the corners of her mouth twitch with a suppressed smile. “I see you are starting a new tally,” I say to her as I rise from my chair, moving around the table to leisurely approach her. “What do you mean?” She blushes, telling me she knows exactly what I mean. “You recall what happens when you roll your eyes at me.” My voice is low, holding a warning, just the way she likes it. When I reach her, I dip my head into her neck and pull her against me, her body molding to mine. “We need to go. The pack is waiting for us.” There is no conviction in her voice as she says the words, and definitely not when she meets my kiss head-on, the force leaving us breathless as we pull apart. “Let's ditch the pack dinner and stay here. I could have you for dinner.” Ava blushes and then swats my arm as she pulls away, grabbing my hand and leading us towards the front door. “We can’t. The survivors will be there, and I need to be more in volved with the pack. If I have any hope of them acc epting me.” I halt, pulling on her hand so that she stops. “Ava. They already do acc ept you. You have nothing to prove.” She turns around slowly to face me. “If you could just feel how they feel, you would know. You will know in a week, when I mark you.” The thought stirs my wolf, this primal act at the back of our mind since meeting our mate. “Braiden. Just because I am your mate and, by default, The Queen, doesn’t mean they acc ept me. I have to earn it. I have to be worthy of the responsibility that comes with the title. Else, they won’t respect me.” “It doesn’t work like that in a pack, Ava. That thinking is human thinking. Not werewolf. There is a pack hierarchy for a reason, and the pack thrives under the hierarchy. So, having their Queen finally in place brings harmony to the pack. They respect you already. It doesn’t need to be earned. To them, you are already family. It is only you who thinks otherwise.” She regards me for a long time, her mind playing with my words, trying to figure out whether she believes it. Soon, I would know what she was thinking and feeling, and I couldn’t wait. “Let’s go. The pack wants to see their beloved King and Queen.” I take her hand and lead her out through the front door. “Your parents will be there. Your mother called me earlier and apologized for what happened at the last pack dinner. I said it's fine. She asked if they could join us tonight.” Ava’s heart knew no limits. I was so sick of their behavior that they were lucky they weren’t permanently banished. “You see. You are already more compassionate and forgiving than I will ever be. The perfect match.” I squeeze her hand, and she smiles. “You give me too much credit. I just don’t want to come between your parents and you. That’s all. I wish I had parents. You still have yours. It’s a blessing often missed until it is too late.”
My heart clenches at the emotion in her voice and the sadness on her face. I never thought about it that way. My parents are not perfect, but I like to think they did everything from a place of love, as misguided as it sometimes was. We can hear the excited chatter from inside when we reach the pack hall. This would be their Queen’s second pack dinner, and they wanted to get to know her. As much as I knew Ava wanted to get to know them. As usual, she stiffens slightly at the door before composing herself and straightening her shoulders. She was made to be Queen as much as she disputed the fact. It was natural and ingrained. As we walk in, the room grows quiet, the pack showing their usual form of respect as they dip their heads and bare their necks. We don’t take out seats on the thrones but instead join Samuel and Nick at the main table, along with my parents. My dad at least looks at me she epishly while my mom seems unfazed, acting like it is still her right to sit at this table. For a change, Selene is nowhere to be seen. Sensing the tension radiating from me toward my mother, Ava sits beside her while I sit beside Samuel. With a dip of my head, the room relaxes, and chatter erupts. “Son, good to see you.” My dad is not a man of many words, so this initiation from his side is surprising. And his use of such an affectionate term. Usually, he addressed me formally. As did I him when he ruled. “Father,” I greet, dipping my head in acknowledgment. “I see you are late.” Mother looks over at me sternly, her clipped tone already rubbing me the wrong way. “I am the King. I am never late,” I say to her succinctly, a warning in my glare. That is the last words my mother and I say to each other for the rest of the evening, which suits me just fine. “Shall we make our rounds? I want to see how the survivors are settling in?” Ava asks me quietly, an uncertain expression on her face. She was uneasy about walking around the hall, but with Ava, bravery always outweighed the unease. “Of course, my Queen.” She tilts her head to the side, her eyes pulling into slants. “I can’t spank your ass, so I will have to think of some other way to punish you if you ke ep calling me that.” Touché. I laugh, that sound drawing more than one curious gaze. Even my mother looks flabbergasted. An hour and a half later, we have made our way around the entire room, spending time at all the tables for a few minutes. Ava might consider herself an introvert, but she is a natural when it comes to making people feel at ease. She is genuinely interested in what they have to say, which endears her to those she is listening to. “I’m parched,” Ava says with a beaming smile as we return to the table, taking a large sip from the bottle of water close to her glass. “I’m not surprised. We have walked the entire hall from top to bottom.” Seeing her like this, so happy, with me and our pack, it is like a dream. “So, how was it?” Nick asks, peering across at Ava from his spot beside Samuel. When I look over at Ava, she is pale, her eyes wide and panic-filled.
“Ava? What’s wrong?” I get up, pulling her chair to face me as I hunch down in front of her. Samuel and Nick flank me as we watch in horror. Ava’s mouth is opening and closing, and then her hands suddenly start clawing at her chest. “Get the doctor. Now!” I shout, the whole room immediately going quiet. “Ava. What is it?” I grab her hands, the fear in her eyes amplified as tears stream down her face. And then, her eyes roll back in her head, and she tips to the side, my arms catching her before she falls off the chair. Seconds later, she is convulsing, white foam bubbling from her mouth. God no! My heart clenches with fear as I try to ke ep her still, my shouts for the doctor echoing around the room. If something happens to her, I don’t know how I will survive. I won’t survive. I will break into a thousand pieces that cannot be put back together. Without Ava, I am nothing.