The Silver Wolf (Diana and Talon) novel Chapter 168

Chapter One Hundred Sixty Eight

Seven months. It seemed both impossibly long and painfully short. Seven months since she and Lucian had left everything behind.

Lucian had abandoned his pack. His family. His rank. His future.

He had been destined to become the next Alpha of his people-not merely another leader, but one of the strongest Alphas their kind had ever known.

His silver wolf made him different. Powerful. Respected. Feared. His pack had expected him to lead them into a new age of strength. Other wolves already spoke his name with reverence, despite Lucian not yet having taken the Alpha title. He could have possessed everything. Authority Land. Loyalty. A legacy that would have continued for generations.

Instead, Lucian had left it all for her. For them. For the chance to create a future that belonged only to them. He had chosen Agatha over power. Over duty. Over the laws of his kind.

And Agatha had chosen him in return. She had left her coven. Her home. Her parents. Her responsibilities as one of the most gifted white witches of her generation. And Gideon.

The thought of him caused a familiar ache to settle inside her chest. She still thought about him. More often than she admitted to Lucian. Not because she regretted leaving. She did not. But because Gideon had been part of nearly every memory from her childhood. They had grown up side by side. He had protected her when they were young, helped her during lessons, and stood beside her whenever the other witches mocked her questions about peace.

Before Lucian, Agatha had believed what she felt for Gideon was love. Perhaps part of it had been. But it was a love built from familiarity. Duty. Expectation. Everyone had told them since childhood that they belonged together. Their families had spoken of their binding so often that Agatha had never truly questioned whether it was what she wanted. Gideon had always been there.

A constant presence. Like the coven. Like her parents. Like the future everyone had planned for her. She cared for him deeply.

She never wanted to hurt him. That was why leaving had been so difficult. That was why she had written the letter instead of facing him. Cowardice still haunted her. She knew Gideon deserved more than a few lines on paper. He deserved an honest conversation. A proper goodbye.

But she had known him too well. If she had stood before him and said she was leaving with Lucian, Gideon would never have allowed her to go. He would have argued. Begged. Threatened Lucian. Perhaps even attacked him. Agatha had felt the darkness growing inside Gideon long before anyone else acknowledged it. His power had always responded violently to his emotions.

She had feared what her rejection might awaken. So she left. Silently. Quickly. Before she could lose her

courage.

Agatha walked toward the table and began gathering the bowls and used herbs from the child’s treatment. She tried not to imagine what Gideon had done after discovering her letter. She hoped he had eventually accepted her choice. She hoped he had found peace.

Perhaps another witch had helped him heal. Perhaps one day he would meet someone whose magic

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answered his. Someone capable of loving him the way he deserved.

Dam

Lucian had never given her a reason to regret their decision. Not once. Their life was simple, but Agatha had never felt more fulfilled. They had found the village by accident. Originally, they intended to remain. only a few days. They had been traveling for weeks, avoiding covens and wolf territories while searching for somewhere far enough from both their families. The journey had exhausted Agatha. When they reached the small human village surrounded by mountains and thick forests, Lucian suggested they rest. They rented a tiny cottage on the edge of the settlement. The roof leaked. The windows rattled whenever the wind grew strong.

The garden had been swallowed by weeds. Yet Agatha fell in love with it immediately. The village was peaceful. No one asked too many questions. The people were kind but respected privacy. They worked hard, shared whatever little they possessed, and valued skill more than bloodlines or rank. For the first time in Agatha’s life, no one expected anything from her. No elders demanded that she use her power for the coven. No family members discussed the children she would produce with Gideon. No witches praised her only because of what her magic might accomplish. Here, she was simply Agatha. A healer. A wife. A woman free to choose what she did with each new day.

The village felt as though it were calling to her. So one evening, as she and Lucian sat outside watching the sunset, she had asked whether they could stay. Lucian had not hesitated.

“If this place makes you happy,” he told her, “then this is our home.”

The next day, he repaired the roof. Within a week, he had rebuilt the fence. Together, they cleared the garden and planted herbs, vegetables, and wildflowers. Their cottage slowly became theirs. Lucian crafted shelves for her remedies. Agatha sewed curtains for the windows. They filled the walls with small reminders of the life they were creating together.

It was not the home her family had planned for her. It was better. Because she had chosen it.

Agatha carried the bowls to the washbasin and dipped them into warm water. Her gaze drifted toward the window again. Lucian would return later that afternoon. She imagined him stepping through the door with his familiar smile, his silver eyes warming the moment he saw her. He would complain when he discovered she had been treating patients without resting enough.

Then he would kneel before her, press his cheek against her stomach, and speak to their unborn child as though the baby could already answer him. A tender smile spread across Agatha’s face. She dried her hands and placed one palm over the gentle curve of her belly. Only a few more months. Then they would hold their child. Their baby. A life created from two beings their world insisted should remain enemies.

The child growing inside her represented everything witches and wolves claimed was impossible. Magic and wolf. Two bloodlines joined not through war, duty, or political agreement… But love.

When Agatha first discovered she was pregnant, she had been terrified. She did not know what the combination of witch and werewolf blood might create. She worried the pregnancy could harm the baby or her. Lucian had immediately sensed her fear. He had held her through the night and promised that they would face every uncertainty together. But beneath his calm words, his joy had been impossible to hide. He had been floating ever since. He spoiled her constantly. He hunted for whatever food she craved. He refused to allow her to carry anything heavier than a small basket. He checked the locks every night, patrolled the forest twice as often, and slept with one arm wrapped protectively around her stomach.

He gave her everything he possessed. His love. His devotion. His protection. His care. Lucian did not treat

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Agathe like something he owned. He treated her as his equal. He listened. He respected her decisions. He Trusted her strength even while wanting to shield her from every danger. That was the difference between what she had felt for Gideon and what she shared with Lucian.

Agatha had loved Gideon. But Lucian was her air. Her soul recognized him in a way it had never recognized anyone else. Her magic had accepted him. His wolf had accepted her. Yet even without that bond, Agatha knew she would still have chosen Lucian. He was not only her mate. He was the man she had chosen freely. And now their child would become another reason she would never regret that choice. Agatha felt the smallest flutter beneath her palm. Her smile widened.

“Your father will be home soon,” she whispered to her belly. “And he will probably bring you another gift you cannot use for several years.”

Lucian had already carved the baby a small wooden wolf. Then a cradle. Then several toys. Agatha had laughed when she discovered him adding an extra room to the cottage despite the baby not being born for months. The memory warmed her.

Then she heard the front door open. Agatha’s face lit up immediately. He was home earlier than expected.

“Lucian?”

She turned from the washbasin, already preparing to tease him about abandoning the hunt simply because he had missed her.

“I thought you wouldn’t return until-”

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