THE MESSENGER'S GIFT
Selene's POV
The border was a twenty-minute drive from the main packhouse.
I spent the entire trip staring out the window, watching the forest blur past while my mind raced with possibilities.
My mother's diary.
I'd been ten when she died. Old enough to remember her smile, her voice, the way she used to braid my hair before bed.
But not old enough to understand the sadness that had always lingered in her eyes.
"Tell me about her," Damon said quietly from the driver's seat.
I glanced at him, surprised.
"What?"
"Your mother. What was she like?"
The question caught me off guard. In all the chaos, we'd never really talked about our pasts. Our families. The lives we'd lived before fate threw us together.
"She was... gentle,"
I said slowly, searching for the right words.
"Kind. She used to sneak me extra desserts when my father wasn't looking. Made up stories about the Moon Goddess and the first wolves."
"Sounds like she loved you."
