Chapter 165
**PART. 3**
**'ASTRID'S POV**
The morning sun filtered through the windows, warm and golden, casting a soft glow over the living room where I sat curled up beside my mother. The scent of lavender and fresh herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the quiet hum of the world waking outside. She looked tired but radiant, her belly round and full with my baby brother. A wistful smile tugged at her lips as she spoke, her hand gently stroking her bump. She was still telling me about her and father. The stories were beyond shocking and interesting.
"You know," she began, her voice soft and reminiscent, "when I met your father, things were far from perfect. In fact, they were chaos. I didn’t trust him at first—not with my heart, not with anything."
I leaned in, curiosity sparking through me like a lit match, watching the way her eyes shimmered with memory. The light caught the corners of her irises, turning them golden for a second.
"Seriously!" I asked. "so father was really always the stoic, grumbly, overprotective guy we all know and love?"
She laughed lightly, the sound like a breeze through wind chimes. "He was stubborn," she said, brushing a curl from my cheek. "So was I. But even in the middle of all that madness—blood wars, betrayals, supernatural politics—I knew there was something about him… something that made me feel safe, even when I didn’t want to admit it."
I hugged her tightly, resting my head against her shoulder. Her body was warm, grounding me. "You’re so strong, Mom. I can’t believe how much you went through. What I’m dealing with feels so small compared to that."
She pulled back and looked me in the eye, her gaze firm and loving. "Astrid, don’t compare your pain to mine. What you’re going through is real, and it matters. Pain is pain. And love... love is never small."
I bit my lip, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat.
"But yes," she continued, her hand now covering mine. "If I made it through, you will too."
Her words settled into my heart like a promise. A silent vow that, no matter how much it hurt now, I could survive this. I had to believe that love was still worth fighting for. That destinies, no matter how tangled or cruel, could be rewritten.
Jeremiah was mine.
I wasn’t going to give up on him.
I wanted to hear more about her and Dad—how they fought against the odds, how they carved a future out of shadows and impossible choices—but I didn’t have time. I had training. And in this pack, duty didn’t wait for heartbreak.
Leaving the warmth of the moment, I stood and kissed her cheek. She smiled knowingly and whispered, "Don’t be late. And Astrid?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember who you are. You’re his daughter too."
That stayed with me as I left.
Training had become my sanctuary. Not just to hone my body, but to sharpen my will. To turn pain into strength. Each punch I threw, each block I deflected, was more than movement—it was a promise. I would go back. I would face Jeremiah. I would fix what was broken.
Even if he hated me now.
Even if he rejected everything we had.
Because I hadn’t given up on us. Not yet.
Fate, for all its cruelty, had a funny way of throwing you a bone when you least expected it.
As I passed the hallway toward the training fields, two junior ambassadors were talking in hushed, excited voices.
"The Peace Summit’s happening in Alpha Oliver’s territory," one of them whispered, nearly bouncing with excitement. "Three weeks of strategy talks and training. We leave this weekend."
"I heard Alpha Jeremiah will be there too," the other replied.
My feet froze.
Oliver’s territory.
Three weeks.
Jeremiah.
My heart stuttered in my chest. This was it. My opening. My chance.
Without hesitation, I spun on my heel and headed toward the junior ambassador office. My hands trembled slightly as I pushed open the door, my pulse thundering in my ears.
My Aunt Fatima looked up from a stack of folders, her sharp eyes narrowing just slightly.
"I want to register for the ambassador summit," I said before she could speak, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
She studied me for a second longer, then smiled like she'd been expecting me.
"You always did have good timing."
I blinked. "You’re not going to ask why?"
She chuckled, grabbing the necessary form. "Nope. Just know that if you’re going for him, you better come back whole."
My breath caught. She knew. Of course she did.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She stamped the form with official approval and handed it back. "Good luck, Astrid. And remember—sometimes fate needs a little push."
When I got home, nerves twisted in my stomach like a knot of thorns. I waited until dinner to break the news. My father sat at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he listened to my mother talk about the baby kicking. The flicker of a smile ghosted his lips.
"I signed up for the ambassador summit," I said, trying to sound casual.
He didn’t even look up from his plate.
"No."
One word. Final. Cold as steel.
But I’d expected that.
"Alexander—" my mom started gently, the warning in her tone unmistakable.
"No," he said again, sharper this time. "It’s not safe."
"It’s not supposed to be safe. It’s supposed to be political," she countered, her voice still calm. "She needs this. She’s going to be Luna someday. She should know how politics work."
Dad’s jaw clenched. He finally looked up at me, and for a second, I saw the fear behind the anger. He wasn’t just being overprotective. He was scared. Of losing me.
We stared at each other for a long moment. His eyes, the same color as mine, held so much. Worry. Frustration. Love.
Then he exhaled.
"You’ll go," he said reluctantly. "But with four guards."
Four?
I wanted to protest. Wanted to tell him that would make me look like a princess wrapped in cotton wool. But I also knew better than to push my luck.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
He nodded once, like it physically hurt him to say yes.
Later that night, I stood in my room, packing my bags with trembling fingers. My mind swam with what-ifs and half-formed dreams. I touched the pendant around my neck—a gift from my mother, blessed by her own magic and sealed with a protection spell. Just in case.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My long dark hair was tied back into a sleek braid. My violet-flecked eyes stared back at me, burning with a fierce, unrelenting determination.
"Jeremiah," I whispered, tracing my fingers over the fabric of one of the jackets he once left behind in my room. "I’m coming, mate."
Even if you hate me.
Even if everything’s broken.
I’ll fight for us.
Because I still believe in Fate.
And I still believe in you.
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