Chapter 3 My Selene

The black Maserati purred to a halt before the grand Davenhart estate, its presence as commanding and smooth as the man inside it. Sunlight danced across its polished surface like liquid gold as two suited men stepped out promptly, moving in sync to open the rear door.

Cassian Davenhart emerged like dusk cloaked in silk-tall, striking, and dressed in a charcoal suit so perfectly tailored it looked like sin wrapped in fabric. A black overcoat draped loosely over his shoulders, billowing slightly with the breeze, making him look like a monarch returning from exile. The silver pin on his lapel gleamed-a quiet symbol of power worn by a man who didn't need to raise his voice to command a room.

His jet-black hair, neatly swept back, gleamed under the afternoon sun, and his storm-grey eyes swept across the estate grounds with a cool familiarity. Nothing had changed.

Not the towering columns.

Not the scent of cedar and citrus in the air.

And not the way this place still hummed with power and politics beneath its pretty stone.

He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt with precision, the glint of his platinum watch catching the light.

"Still trying to outdress me, huh?" a voice called from the mansion steps.

Cassian's lips quirked into the faintest smirk as Alpha Darius Davenhart, his older brother, descended the stairs with the air of a man who owned the world-and occasionally borrowed Cassian's to complete the set.

"Someone has to make you look like the underdressed sibling," Cassian replied coolly, his voice smooth and quiet, like velvet over steel.

Darius laughed and embraced him, the kind of hug that spoke of shared blood, history, and unresolved tension.

"Good to see you, Cass."

Cassian nodded, returning the gesture briefly before following his brother through the grand double doors and into the mansion. The warmth inside struck him instantly-a stark contrast to the icy solitude of his usual world.

Boardrooms. Cold city skylines. Silent suites atop high-rises.

This? This was... different. Almost dangerous in its comfort.

It smelled like nostalgia: aged wood, fresh herbs, cinnamon-and faint traces of memories he wasn't sure he wanted to stir.

His boots echoed on the marble floors of the grand foyer. The chandelier overhead spilled gold light like a slow sunrise, illuminating aged portraits and polished staircases that hadn't changed in the slightest. And yet, somehow, it all felt smaller than he remembered.

"Cassian!"

He turned at the sound of his sister-in-law's voice.

Elaina, poised as ever in a soft, emerald gown, descended the stairs like a queen in her court, arms open with genuine warmth in her eyes.

"You haven't aged a day," she smiled, gently cupping his face like she was still trying to understand how he could be real.

Cassian leaned in and kissed her cheek, smirking. "Still a terrible liar, Elaina."

She scoffed and gave him a playful nudge. "And you're still impossible."

Before the moment could linger, a voice-loud and unfiltered-echoed through the hall.

"Uncle Cass!"

Cassian barely turned in time before Alaric barreled into him like a puppy made of testosterone and affection.

"Still alive, I see," Cassian murmured, barely flinching as Alaric wrapped him in a bear hug.

"Barely. You ghosted us for three years and still expect everyone to bow at your return," Alaric teased, pulling back to grin. "You look good, though. Less terrifying in person."

Cassian raised a brow. "I'm offended."

"You're always offended," Alaric said with a wink. "How was the trip from Caelmoor?"

Cassian adjusted his coat, his tone cool and dry. "Quiet. The way I prefer it."

"Still boring," Alaric muttered under his breath as they walked toward the drawing room.

The scent of roast lamb and garlic bread wafted in the air, a fragrant welcome. A servant entered quietly with a tray of wine and hors d'oeuvres. Cassian took a glass, his fingers elegant and deliberate in their every move-like he wasn't just drinking, but commanding the moment.

He settled into the chair, legs crossed, posture as poised as ever. A king in someone else's castle.

Darius sipped his wine and leaned back with a knowing smile. "Elaina's birthday is tomorrow night."

"I heard," Cassian replied, eyes fixed on his wine as he swirled it slowly.

"You'll be there, of course," Elaina added, tilting her head with a smile that bordered on pleading.

"I haven't decided."

"Cass, don't start," Darius said with a chuckle. "Half the pack is buzzing. You disappear like a ghost, and now everyone's dying to see if the legend is real."

Cassian's smirk was faint, but present. "I don't like parties."

"You'll like this one," Darius said with a certain weight in his tone. "You'll meet Alaric's bride-to-be."

Cassian's hand stilled around the glass.

"Bride?"

Elaina beamed. "It's a recent engagement. She's lovely. Elegant. Polite. Exactly the kind of woman Alaric needs."

Cassian didn't speak.

Darius added casually, "Her name's Selene Alder."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Cassian's eyes darkened for the briefest second.

His thoughts rewound.

A windswept night.

A sharp voice.

Eyes like wildfire.

A girl who challenged him with nothing but wit and fury-who looked him dead in the eye and called his bluff.

Selene.

That Selene?

The one who left a mark without even trying?

He set the glass down with quiet precision.

Would she remember him?

And if she did... would she still hate him?

Or worse-had she forgotten him completely?

His lips curved slowly, dangerously, as he leaned back in his seat.

"Interesting," he murmured.

Darius squinted. "You know her?"

Cassian's smile was razor-sharp and unreadable.

"I met her once."

Cassian's POV

I sat there, chewing slowly on a garlic roll like it had personally wronged me. My jaw moved, but my brain? It had hit a wall.

Selene Alder.

Engaged to Alaric? My nephew? My barely-housebroken, sarcasm-on-legs nephew?

Seriously? Life?

I blinked at my wine, wondering if someone had slipped in a truth serum or maybe a hallucinogenic. Because the name Selene Alder wasn't just a name. It was a memory-a scar, really. A beautiful, haunting scar stitched into a forgotten night I had no business remembering but never could shake.

Was it the same Selene?

I bit into the lamb next. Chewed. Thought. Tried not to scream into the mashed potatoes.

Because that Selene-my Selene-was the woman who'd stumbled into my life like chaos in sneakers. The one who found me bleeding after that street brawl years ago, in a back alley where fists and fury weren't enough to save me. And she-God, she was lightning. She didn't flinch, didn't run. Just yanked her jacket off and patched me up like a war nurse with a death glare.

Didn't say much. Just muttered something about idiots with egos and bones that break. Then she vanished like some guardian angel with attitude.

And now-years later-I find out that same girl is engaged to Alaric?

Universe, baby, are you high?

I reached for my wine again, nearly drained the glass in one go.

I hadn't even seen her face properly that night. Just soft eyes, quick hands, and a voice I still heard in the silence.

Could it be her?

There had to be hundreds of Selenes. Maybe thousands. But paired with that name-Alder-and that twist in my gut?

Yeah. That was her.

I glanced at Alaric, who was stuffing his face like he hadn't just turned my entire emotional equilibrium into a disaster movie.

"Selene, huh?" I said casually, swirling the last drops of wine like I wasn't mentally flipping a table.

"Yeah," Alaric beamed. "She's great. You'll love her. Super sweet. Bit bossy, though."

Bossy, huh? Oh, I remembered that.

I nodded slowly, leaning back in my chair like I wasn't planning a covert identity confirmation mission.

Cool. Cool cool cool.

My lost savior, the woman who patched me up then disappeared without a trace, was possibly about to marry my nephew.

Wonderful. Fantastic. Just perfect.

I popped another garlic roll into my mouth, chewed hard, and stared at my wine glass again.

"Life," I muttered under my breath, "you've got jokes."