POV: Alpha Charles Winters
I crashed through the trees, my heart beating in my chest. The smell of blood and magic filled the air. She was close. After eighteen years of keeping her secret, of trying to protect her from this very moment, I was too late.
"Amara!" I yelled, following the blue glow that lit up the night sky like a beacon.
My daughter was floating above Silver Lake, ringed by that strange blue fire. The sight made my throat tighten. She looked so much like her mother—not Seraphina, who raised her, but her real mother. The one who came from this very lake eighteen years ago.
A werewolf flew through the air, smashing into a tree beside me. It was Dorian Graves, the Alpha who had been hunting my daughter. He snarled, blood dripping from his mouth, and flung himself back toward the lake.
I shifted instantly, bones popping as my wolf form took over. I was older now, gray marking my once-black fur, but I was still an Alpha. Still her father.
