Moonlight poured through the window, casting pale beams across Poppy's small room. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, carried in from the open window she had forgotten to close. She lay on her side, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheek as she shifted slightly beneath the worn quilt. Despite the tension coiling in her chest even in sleep, for once, her face was relaxed. Peaceful.

And Mateo watched.

From the shadows of the doorway, his presence was a silent weight pressing against the room. His sharp golden eyes traced the lines of her face, his jaw clenching as if the sight of her pained him. He had spent years mastering control, restraining his instincts, his emotions. But here, in the quiet hush of the night, those defenses felt fragile.

She had no idea who she was. What she was.

And that was the most dangerous part.

A floorboard creaked.

Mateo's head snapped up just as Sam's reflection caught in the bedroom's cracked mirror. The older man stood at the edge of the hall, his expression unreadable beneath the dim glow of hallway night light. For a long moment, neither spoke, their gazes locked in an mutual understanding.

Then, without a word, Mateo turned and disappeared down the stairs.

Sam exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before following.

Downstairs, the fireplace crackled softly, barely holding onto its last embers. Sam descended the final step just as Mateo leaned against the wooden support beam near the hearth, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"You're still watching her," Sam muttered, heading toward the kitchen. His tone wasn't accusing, but it carried something close to it.

Mateo didn't look at him. "She's dangerous, Sam. And she doesn't even know it."

Sam set the kettle over the fire, filling it with water from a jug before leaning against the counter. His eyes flicked to Mateo, then away. "That's why you're here? To remind me?"

"To remind both of us."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the low bubbling of the heating water. Finally, Mateo exhaled through his nose, his golden eyes flickering toward the stairs. "Do you think she'll survive the trial?"

Sam didn't answer immediately. He shifted his weight, shoulders tight with an unease that he refused to voice. "That depends." Those words hurt them both. 

Mateo's gaze sharpened. "On?"

"On whether or not she finds out what she is before then."

Mateo's jaw flexed. He had spent countless nights weighing the risks, the possibilities. Could she handle the truth? Would knowing her heritage make her stronger—or unravel her entirely?

"You know running isn't an option," Mateo said after a long moment. "Even if she tried, the Council already has her scent. The Hunt would follow her to the ends of the earth."

Sam nodded grimly. "Even if I helped her, it wouldn't matter. Not forever."

A weight settled between them. A truth neither wanted to say aloud but understood all the same.

For all her strength, all her fire, Poppy was trapped.

And she didn't even know the gravity of it yet.

Mateo turned toward the door, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. But before he could leave, his sharp gaze flicked back to Sam. Something had shifted in the older man's stance—just for a moment. A flicker of hesitation, barely noticeable.

Mateo's eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" he asked.

Sam hesitated for only a fraction of a second before shaking his head. "Nothing."

But deep in his pocket, his fingers curled around the weight of the tiny bottle hidden within. The elixir. The one thing he had left.

Mateo lingered for a moment longer, suspicion evident in his gaze, before exhaling sharply and turning toward the door. "Three days," he muttered. "She only has three days."

Then he was gone.

Poppy stayed frozen at the top of the stairs, her breath shallow, her hands clenched at her sides.

They knew.

They knew more about her than she did, and they weren't telling her.

The trial. The Hunt. Her past.

And then there was the library.

Her pulse pounded against her ribs. The enchanted library.

She didn't know much about it, only whispers, half-truths passed around like ghost stories. It was said to be cursed—deadly to wolves who entered. But if there was even the slightest chance it held the answers she needed, she would go.

Three days.

Three days to figure out who she was.

The next morning the sun was barely beginning to warm the earth when Poppy stepped outside, breathing in the crisp morning air.

The pack lands stretched before her, the distant treetops swaying gently in the wind. She had avoided walking the grounds since she arrived, preferring the quiet isolation of Sam's cottage. But today, something pulled her forward.

As she wandered further, she caught the scent before she heard them.

Giggles.

She turned, spotting the two small figures crouched behind a tree. The same kids from yesterday.

"You're terrible at hiding," she called with a laughter in her voice. A pair of wide, guilty eyes peered at her from behind the trunk before the little boy stumbled forward, grinning. "We weren't hiding!"

The girl smacked his arm. "Yes, we were!"

Poppy smirked, crossing her arms. "Right. Just casually crouching in the bushes, then?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically. "Yup!"

A chuckle escaped her before she could stop it. "You two really are trouble."

"We're not trouble," the girl argued. "We just like watching you. You're strong."

Something warm curled in Poppy's chest, but before she could respond, another presence made itself known. "Out of the way, pups."

The Beta.

Poppy turned, finding herself face-to-face with Mateo's second-in-command. The woman stood tall, her sleek black hair pulled into a tight braid, her sharp blue eyes filled with something unreadable. She saw her once before briefly in the distance of the forest while training with Sam. 

The children scampered off with a final glance at Poppy, leaving her alone with the Beta.

"Enjoying your first real walk around the pack?" the woman asked, her tone neutral.

Poppy shrugged. "Something like that."

A smirk tugged at the Beta's lips. "I suppose you've been keeping busy. Mateo certainly has."

Poppy stiffened at the insinuation. The Beta's smirk widened slightly.

"You know, he hardly sleeps anymore," she continued. "Between training and leading the pack, it's a wonder he has time for anything else." She tilted her head slightly. "Or anyone else."

Poppy didn't react. She wouldn't give this woman the satisfaction.

Instead, she asked, "How long have you known him?"

The Beta blinked, as if surprised by the question. "Since before he took his father's place." Her expression flickered for a brief moment. "He's worked harder than anyone for this pack. His father would be proud."

Poppy studied her carefully. "And what about his mother?" The Beta's jaw tightened. For the first time, there was something behind those cold blue eyes. Something not so controlled.

"She loved him more than anything," she finally said. Poppy could tell that was all she was going to get. Still, it was enough.

For now.

Poppy let the silence stretch between them for a moment, watching the Beta's carefully schooled expression. The woman had been speaking in half-truths, skirting around real answers. And Poppy had no patience for it.

She crossed her arms. "You know, for someone who acts like she has better things to do, you sure like wasting time on small talk."

The Beta's lips twitched in the barest hint of amusement before pressing into a thin line.

Poppy tilted her head. "You don't like me. That's fine. But I doubt you're here just to make comments about Mateo's schedule." She narrowed her gaze. "So let's cut the bullshit. You've been around longer than most—how much do you know about the enchanted library?"

The Beta's amusement vanished.

Poppy caught the slight shift in the woman's posture, the flicker of something unreadable in her cold blue eyes.

"The library is a myth," she said smoothly. Too smoothly.

Poppy arched a brow. "That so?"

The Beta held her gaze, but Poppy saw the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched at her sides as if suppressing the urge to move.

"You wouldn't last five minutes in that place," the Beta finally said, voice like flint. "Not even with your... abilities."

Poppy's pulse jumped at the way she said it. The woman knew something.

She took a step closer. "So it does exist."

The Beta's jaw clenched.

"I've heard the stories," Poppy continued, pressing forward. "Wolves don't come back if they enter. But why? What's inside that makes it so dangerous?"

The Beta exhaled sharply. "You should stop asking questions you don't want the answers to."

Poppy smirked. "I don't think you get to decide what I want."

A muscle ticked in the Beta's jaw.

For a moment, Poppy thought she wouldn't answer at all. But then the woman's icy gaze flicked toward the tree line, scanning the area as if making sure no one was close enough to listen.

Then she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

"The library doesn't kill wolves," she said. "It strips them."

Poppy frowned. "Strips them of what?"

The Beta's eyes locked onto hers, and for the first time, Poppy saw something close to fear in them.

"Their wolves."

A chill ran down Poppy's spine. She had expected a warning about physical traps or deadly creatures lurking in the shadows. But this? This was something else entirely.

The Beta straightened. "You want to go searching for something that could turn you into a hollowed-out version of yourself? Be my guest."

Poppy clenched her fists, her mind racing. The idea of losing her wolf—of losing the part of herself that had given her strength—was terrifying. But something about the Beta's words didn't add up.

She glanced at the woman, eyes sharp. "If that's true, why haven't the alphas destroyed it?"

The Beta's smirk was humorless. "Because no one can."

Poppy studied her, heartbeat steady despite the storm churning inside her. She had a choice now. Walk away—or keep digging.

She already knew which path she was going to take.

And it led straight to the library.

Poppy turned away from the Beta, but her mind was nowhere near settled. If anything, the weight of the conversation pressed against her ribs like an iron cage, suffocating.

She had spent her whole life chasing truths, fighting to survive in a world that had never offered her stability. And yet, the closer she got to understanding who she was, the more people seemed determined to keep her in the dark.

The worst part? Mateo was one of them.

The man who had pulled her from death's grip. The man whose presence burned like wildfire in her blood, even when she tried to ignore it. She had seen the way he and Sam spoke in hushed tones. The way his golden eyes darkened when he thought she wasn't looking, as if he carried the weight of a truth he wasn't willing to share.

And last night—watching her from the shadows of her own room.

Her gut twisted at the memory. He had been there, standing in the dark, just watching. Did he think she wouldn't notice? Did he think she wouldn't feel it?

And Sam... Sam had seen him too. They had spoken about her in the dead of night, voices low, weighed with something heavier than just concern.

They knew. They knew something about her that she didn't.

The realization was like ice down her spine.

Poppy's fists clenched at her sides. If Mateo wasn't going to tell her the truth, she would find it herself.

And if the library was the only place that held the answers, then she didn't care what it cost her.

She would walk through its doors.

She would uncover what everyone else was so afraid of.

And she would no longer be at the mercy of secrets.