Opal's POV
The kitchen had finally been scrubbed clean. Or... mostly. There were still a few mysterious frosting smudges on the ceiling, a disturbing outline of Ridge's body imprinted in flour near the fridge, and the faint smell of burned sprinkles lingering in the air.
Opal sat on the back porch, a mug of warm tea cradled in her hands. The sun hadn't yet risen; the horizon was still a sleepy gradient of navy and gray. Mist clung to the trees just beyond their property, curling like lazy fingers through the grass.
Her head was buzzing—not from exhaustion, though she was certainly tired—but from everything that had happened.
She was going to be Kael's mate.
She had chosen love over fate. Or maybe… maybe love was fate, just disguised in a choice.
She was giving up her place in her home pack to become Luna of another.
And she was okay with it.
Almost.
The door creaked behind her.
"Is it safe?" came her mother's voice.
