---- Chapter 23 JOSIE POV: Two years. Two years can change everything. The timid, broken girl who fled the Black Moon Pack was gone. In her place stood a woman who knew her own power. My designs, once secret sketches hidden in a drawer, were now celebrated on runways from Milan to New York. | was no longer just Josie Watson. | was Josie Watson, the White Wolf designer, a name whispered with respect in packs all over the world. Tonight was the culmination of it all-my first solo show in Paris. The air buzzed with excitement, a mix of expensive perfume and the electric energy of the fashion world. From the wings, | watched as the final model walked the runway in my signature piece, the 'Luna's Embrace' gown. The crowd erupted in applause. It was deafening, overwhelming, and wonderful. Chris was waiting for me as | stepped back from the curtain, his proud smile the only thing | focused on in the chaotic backstage. ---- "You were magnificent," he said, pulling me into a hug. His scent, clean snow and steady pine, was my anchor. "We were magnificent," | corrected, touching the silver wolf- head cane he now used. His leg had never fully recovered from the crash, the silver poisoning leaving him with a permanent limp. He never complained, always calling it a reminder of what was worth fighting for. At the after-party, we were surrounded. Editors, buyers, and rival Alphas all wanted a moment with the White Wolf. | moved through the crowd with a confidence that felt as natural as breathing. And then, | smelled it. Pine needles after a storm. Raw, possessive power. A scent that sent a jolt of alarm, not longing, through my veins. | turned, and there he was. Laurence. He stood near the bar, watching me. He looked different. The arrogance was still there in his posture, but his eyes held a deep, hollowed-out sadness. He had been a ghost in my life for two years. My company had received anonymous investments from a shell corporation | later traced back to him. Rare fabrics would appear from suppliers with ties to the Black Moon Pack. He was a silent, controlling presence, a shadow | couldn't seem to shake. ---- He started walking toward me. The crowd parted for him as if he were royalty. "Josie," he said, his voice low and rough. "Congratulations. Your work is... breathtaking." The air grew thick with tension. My wolf bristled, wanting to snarl at him to back away. Before | could respond, Chris was at my side. He didn't say a word to Laurence. He simply took the champagne flute from my hand and replaced it with a glass of water. Then, his arm slid around my waist, a quiet, firm gesture of ownership. It was a silent declaration. "She is with me." Laurence's eyes narrowed, his gaze dropping to Chris's hand on my hip. The air crackled with the unspoken challenge between two Alphas. The scent of their power, Laurence's stormy pine and Chris's cool winter, clashed in the space between them. "It's good to see you're well, Laurence," Chris said, his tone polite but edged with steel. "I'd be better if you weren't holding what belongs to me," Laurence shot back, his voice a low growl. I'd had enough. | stepped forward, breaking the invisible line of battle. "Nothing here belongs to you, Laurence," | said, my voice cold and clear. It silenced the low chatter around us. "We have no ---- connection. We have no business. Please, stop this. Stop haunting my life." | turned to Chris. "Can we go?" He nodded, his eyes never leaving Laurence's face. He guided me through the crowd, his hand a warm, steady pressure on my back. We walked away, leaving the former Alpha of the Black Moon Pack standing alone in the middle of a party celebrating my success. In the underground parking garage, the cool air was a relief. Chris draped his jacket over my shoulders as we walked to the car. "Are you alright?" he asked softly. "l am now," | said, leaning my head against his shoulder for a brief moment. He was my peace. My home. Laurence was just a storm that had passed long ago. Or so | thought.