The grand opening of Luna's Sweet Creations exceeded all expectations. By noon, the display cases were half-empty, and by closing time, not a single pastry remained. The town had turned out in force—some from curiosity, others from genuine support, all leaving with sugar-dusted fingers and satisfied smiles.

"You're a hit," Mia declared, helping me clean up after the last customer left. "Even Elder North's friends were here, though they tried to be discreet."


I laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in months. "Spying for the enemy?"

"Or just unable to resist your maple pecan rolls. They're sinfully good."

Pride warmed me from within. This success was mine alone—no pack connections, no Alpha husband's influence. Just flour, sugar, and the skills I'd honed since childhood.


As we locked up, Mia hesitated. "I hate to leave you alone tonight of all nights, but my sister's baby is coming, and—"

"Go," I insisted. "I'll be fine. I'm too exhausted to celebrate anyway."


It was true. At twelve weeks pregnant, fatigue hit me like a physical weight by day's end. All I wanted was a hot bath and my bed.

Mia's cottage felt eerily quiet without her presence. I soaked in lavender-scented water until my skin pruned, then wrapped myself in a soft robe, one hand absently stroking my stomach where the slightest curve was beginning to show.

"We did good today, little one," I whispered. "Your mama's a businesswoman now."

A floorboard creaked in the hallway.

I froze, senses instantly alert. No one should be in the house. Mia had left for the neighboring pack's territory, and I'd locked the doors myself.

"Hello?" I called, reaching for the nearest weapon—a decorative fireplace poker.

Silence answered me, heavy and expectant.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin, but oddly, she showed no signs of alarm—no raised hackles, no defensive posture. Instead, she seemed to... relax. As if recognizing something familiar.

Someone familiar.

"Aiden?" My voice sounded small in the empty house.

Again, nothing. Yet the air felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

I moved through the cottage, poker raised, checking each room. Nothing was disturbed. No windows broken, no doors forced. I was alone—and yet, not alone.

In the guest room, my bed remained neatly made, untouched since morning. As I set the poker down, a scent caught my attention—faint but unmistakable. Pine. Rain. Aiden.

My heart raced. "I know you're here," I said to the empty room. "Somehow."

The air shifted around me, like a caress against my skin. The same sensation I'd felt on those nights when I'd woken to phantom touches.

Understanding dawned slowly. Dream-walking—a rare ability among Alphas, almost mythical. The capacity to project one's consciousness across distances, to visit another in their sleep. My grandmother had mentioned it once, describing it as the deepest expression of the mate bond.

Aiden had never shown signs of such power before. Or had he simply never needed it until now?

I sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly dizzy with the implications. "How long have you been watching over me?"

The air beside me seemed to compress, to take on weight and substance though nothing was visible. A whisper of sensation brushed my cheek—the ghost of a touch.

"You know about the baby," I said. Not a question.

The energy in the room intensified, wrapping around me like an embrace. My wolf whined, recognizing her mate despite his incorporeal form.

Tears sprang to my eyes, unexpected and unwelcome. "This doesn't change anything," I insisted, even as my body leaned toward the invisible presence. "We're still broken, Aiden. A baby can't fix that."

The warmth withdrew slightly, hovering just beyond reach. Waiting. For what, I wasn't sure.

"I needed to do this," I continued, gesturing vaguely toward the window, toward my bakery in the distance. "I needed to find myself outside of us. Outside of the pack. Can you understand that?"

A gentle pressure on my hand—fingers interlacing with mine, though I saw nothing.

"I'm not coming back," I whispered, even as doubt crept into my resolve.

The presence remained, patient and unwavering. Not demanding, not pleading. Simply... there. As if to say: I'll wait. For however long it takes.

I lay down on the bed, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. The invisible weight settled beside me, a comforting warmth against my back. My wolf, recognizing safety even when my human heart remained uncertain, pulled me toward sleep.

Just before consciousness faded, I murmured into the darkness: "She has your eyes. In my dreams, she has your eyes."

The last sensation I felt was the press of lips against my temple—a kiss from a ghost who refused to let go.