VERENA “Sweetie, could you pass me the salt?” Ruth calls out to me from the other end of the kitchen, and I turn around to face her. The old lady’s eyes are focused on the pot, her gray hair pulled up in a tight bun. My lips curve into a smile, “Sure, here you go.” I grab the nearby salt canister from the white countertop and walk over to her. Ruth gestures for me to sprinkle some salt into the simmering tomato soup. Due to her simple appearance anyone would mistake her for a regular staff member working for the Alpha of the Mountain Cross pack. However, she is Carlisle’s nanny and a respected member of the packhouse. It has been a month since I left the Iron Claw Pack and started living in the Mountain Cross Pack. This pack has a different atmosphere and culture, leaning more towards a slow and peaceful lifestyle compared to the fast-paced city life of my old pack. Half of the landscape is filled with pine trees and towering mountains that reach up to the bright blue sky. “Look a

VERENA My grip around the glass tightens as I feel Ruth’s hard gaze on me. How did she suspect it? I don’t have a wolf, so she couldn’t have smelled it on me. “What makes you think that? It's–it's nothing like that,” I say, my palms sweating profusely. I don’t want to lie to Ruth, who has been nothing but kind to me. But I don’t have a choice. She could reveal my secret to Carlisle. Ruth’s face softens, and her shoulders relax slightly as she looks at me. “You don’t have to be scared of me, Verena. I'm not planning to tell anyone,” she says, as if reading my mind. “There’s no secret,” I mutter immediately, hiding my face behind my hair. I'm sorry, Ruth. Ruth presses her lips into a line, then says, “I've been watching you struggle in the kitchen, sweetie. And I have years of experience to know that it's not just the aftereffect of your banishment.” I gulp, feeling a lump form in my throat. If there were a possibility for the floor to crack open and swallow me, I would consider my

VERENA My heart beats wildly in my chest as Alpha Carlisle stands beside me. How much did he hear from our conversation? "I, um, I'm sure anyone would love the soup Ruth made," I point at the bowl on the table near me while sweat trickles down my back. Carlisle looks at the soup with a light frown. "I see." I hope he buys my lie. His sharp gaze lands on me as he tilts his head. "I thought you two were talking about something else by the look on your faces. Something more…serious." I feel the lump in my throat. Are we that obvious? Ruth’s voice breaks the awkward tension in the air. "Verena is quite serious when it comes to food. It shows through her good skills that she doesn't take it lightly." Carlisle smiles upon hearing Ruth's compliment. "I can't agree more," he turns to me. "Since she has entered the kitchen, my taste buds have been spoiled in a good way. But what I love the most is the desserts you make. They are out of this world," he compliments, and his blue eyes swirl

VERENA"Me? Why?" I ask, my face turning pale.“A partner is required to attend the exhibition since there’s dancing besides the exhibition,” he replies while swirling his glass, the red liquid dancing within its curved walls.“Like a ball?”“Yes, like a ball. People will get bored if it's just an exhibition,” he remarks with a casual smile.I want to refuse, but before I can open my mouth to say a word, he speaks again as if knowing what I’ll say.“I don’t want to hear a no, Verena. If you are not coming with me, then I’ll not attend the event,” his voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.I purse my lips for what seems like a few seconds, and answer, “Alright.”Carlisle’s eyes glisten with excitement, “Good. My night at the Moonlight Pack won’t be boring anymore.”“I hope so,” I say, hoping he doesn't see through my facade concealing my decision to leave tonight.I push my chair back and rise to my feet. “Thank you for the meal,” I nod in gratitude, ready to leave when his voice

VERENAAs soon as the lights are turned on, a portrait of a lady on the wall across the room flashes before my eyes. The lady sits on a chair, and looks back at me with a certain pride swirling in her green eyes, her long midnight blue hair cascading down her slim neck. The lady in the portrait is me.A gasp leaves my lips. Why am I in this portrait?“Her name is Julianne,” Carlisle’s voice sounds heavy when he speaks beside me, “She was my mate, and my late wife.” There is sadness in his sapphire eyes as he stares at the portrait.My jaw hangs in disbelief. Is he joking? Because Julianne looks exactly like me. The similarities are so strong that for one second, I started to wonder when I took a picture like this.Carlisle slowly turns to me with a grimness on his face, “You are not my first mate either, Verena. We are both each other’s second chance mates,” He utters with not a single hint of playfulness in his voice. “My mate died in a car accident two years ago. It was two months a