The Alpha's Forbidden Vow novel Chapter 55

POV: Selene

The manor’s old north wing library became my sanctuary.

It was a forgotten place, filled with the scent of dust and decaying paper, and a profound, blessed silence. No one ever came here. It was the only place in this entire estate where I felt I could breathe, a place where I could escape the suffocating presence of Isabella and Zane’s tormented ghost.

I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I was just seeking refuge, running my fingers over the spines of books that hadn't been touched in centuries.

One book, bound in a dark, cracked leather with no title, drew my attention.

It was heavier than it looked.

I carried it to a dusty reading table near a grimy window, the weak afternoon light illuminating the motes of dust dancing in the air.

I opened it.

The pages were brittle, the ink faded. It was a history, a chronicle of the ancient wolf packs, the ones from before the great wars and the consolidation of power.

I read of the Sunstone Pack, of the Granite Fang Clan, and then, I came to a chapter that made my heart beat a little faster.

The Lost Alphas of the Silvermoon.

The text described a powerful, almost mystical Alpha family—the Silvermoon Pack.

They were known not just for their strength in battle, but for a unique, innate ability.

“The Silvermoon Alpha,” I read, my finger tracing the faded script, “carries a calming presence, an aura of peace that can soothe the most savage of beasts and calm the most tormented of minds. They are not conquerors, but healers, their power rooted in empathy and a deep connection to the Moon Goddess herself.”

The description resonated with something deep inside me, a strange, forgotten echo in my soul.

I turned the page.

There was a detailed, hand-drawn illustration of the Silvermoon Pack’s official totem.

For my entire life, I had been defined by my lack of identity. Selene, the orphan. Selene, the charity case. Selene, the Volkovs’ inconvenient step-daughter.

A nobody, a stray brought in from the cold.

But this book, this ancient totem, suggested something else entirely.

It suggested a history. A legacy. A power I could not comprehend.

I stared at the pendant and the drawing, my mind reeling.

Who was I?

Who was my mother?

For the first time, I realized that the answers to those questions might be more important, and more dangerous, than I had ever imagined.