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Chapter 45: Returning to the Den 

Chapter 45. Returning to the Dent 

(Ethan’s POV) 

1 held Olivia close against my chest, her small frame shivering from her unexpected dip in the Moonlit Reflection Pool. The moonlight caught the droplets of water in her chestnut hair, making them shimmer like 

tiny crystals. 

“Why did you pretend to be sick on your second day at Canis Enterprises?” I asked, my voice stern despite the concern churning inside me. 

She remained silent, her emerald eyes deliberately avoiding mine. The stubborn set of her jaw told me she 

wouldn’t answer easily. 

“Olivia,” I pressed, my tone hardening with Alpha authority. “Answer me.” 

Still nothing. Just the sound of her chattering teeth and the faint scent of venison and moonberry sauce from 

the dinner she’d barely touched. 

With a frustrated sigh, I adjusted my grip and began walking toward the exit of the Moonlit Garden. My driver would be waiting with the car, and Olivia needed to get warm before she caught a chill. 

“Put me down,” she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “People will see.” 

“Let them,” I replied, tightening my hold. 

Her small hands pushed against my chest. “Please, Ethan. I don’t want more gossip.” 

I glanced down at her face, noting the genuine distress in her eyes. Pack politics were brutal, especially for an Omega without a wolf. The rumors about us were already vicious enough. 

Olivia pulled my Black Alpha Overcoat over her face as we passed a group of pack members near the entrance. Their curious eyes followed us, and I heard their whispers even after we’d passed. 

“Did you see that? The Alpha King carrying his Luna?” 

“I thought he was with Victoria Frost now…” 

“Shh! He’ll hear you!” 

I pretended not to notice, focusing instead on getting Olivia to the waiting vehicle where Maxwell Chen stood 

at attention, holding the door open. 

“Alpha,” he greeted with a respectful nod, his face betraying no surprise at seeing me carrying my soaking 

wet mate 

“Take us to Maple Grove,” Olivia said as I placed her in the backseat. 

I shot her a sharp look. “No.” 

“Maple Grove is my home,” she insisted, her emerald eyes flashing with defiance despite her shivering. 

“Turn the heat up.” I instructed Maxwell, ignoring her protest. “Full blast.” 

Maxwell nodded and closed the door, moving swiftly to the driver’s seat. Within moments, warm air 

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flowing through the vents of the luxury SUV 

Olivia huddled in the corner of the seat, as far from me as possible. Her wet clothes clung to her skin, and despite the heat, she continued to shiver. 

“Take off your shoes,” I ordered, reaching for her feet before she could protest. 

She flinched away. “What are you doing?” 

“Your shoes are soaked. Take them off.” 

When she made no move to comply, I took matters into my own hands, Grasping her ankle firmly but gently, I removed first one shoe, then the other, followed by her soaking wet socks. 

Her feet were ice–cold and pale. I rubbed them between my palms, trying to restore circulation. 

“Stop!” she gasped, trying to pull away. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

I raised an eyebrow. “Preventing frostbite. What did you think I was doing?” 

A blush spread across her cheeks. “… nothing.” 

“Your clothes are soaked through,” I pointed out. You need to take them off.” 

Her eyes widened in alarm. “I will not strip in front of you!” 

“Would you prefer to catch pneumonia?” I countered. “Take them off. Now” 

She glared at me, that familiar fire in her eyes that always managed to both irritate and intrigue me. 

“Turn around,” she demanded. 

I almost smiled at her audacity. Even soaking wet and at my mercy, she still issued commands like she was 

the Alpha. 

“Fine,” I conceded, turning to face the window. “But hurry up.” 

I heard the rustle of wet fabric as she struggled out of her clothes. In the reflection of the window, I caught 

glimpses of pale skin and delicate curves as she peeled off her blouse 

“You’re watching!” she accused, catching my gaze in the reflection 

I didn’t deny it. Tm making sure you don’t pass out from hypothermia.” 

“You shameless-” she sputtered, yanking off her wet pants and throwing them at my head. 

I caught them easily and tossed them aside. Reaching under the seat, I pulled out a Moonlight Thermal 

Blanket specially designed for werewolf physiology 

“Here,” I said, draping it around her shoulders without looking. This will help” 

The blanket’s special moonstone fibers would help regulate her body temperature and provide comfort. I’d had it installed in all my vehicles after Lily’s illness, a precaution that now served her mother. 

Olivia wrapped the blanket tightly around herself, still glaring but visibly relieved by its warmth. The 

combination of alcohol, cold water, and emotional exhaustion was clearly taking its toll. 

Within minutes, her eyelids began to droop. She fought against sleep, her head nodding forward before 

jerking back up 

Eventually, she lost the battle. Her head fell against the window as she drifted off, her breathing evening out 

into the rhythm of sleep. 

The vehicle hit a bump in the road, and Olivia’s head jerked toward the glass. Without thinking, I thrust my hand between her temple and the window, catching her head before it could impact. 

Her soft hair brushed against my palm, and for a moment, I was transported back to simpler times–before Victoria’s return, before Lily’s illness, before everything fell apart. 

Gently, I guided her head to rest on my shoulder instead of the hard window. She mumbled something 

incoherent but didn’t wake 

“Slow down,” I instructed Maxwell quietly. “Take the scenic route.” 

“Yes, Alpha,” he replied, smoothly reducing our speed. 

Olivia slept soundly against my shoulder, her face peaceful for the first time in years. Without the constant mask of defiance and pain, she looked younger, vulnerable in a way she never allowed herself to be while 

awake. 

I’d long suppressed. 

The scent of her hair–moonflowers and rain–filled my senses, bringing with it memories I’d long s 

Memories of a different time, a different us. 

When she finally stirred, we were pulling up to Imperial Gardens, the house where she, Lily, and I had lived together for five years. The house I still considered hers, despite her insistence on staying at Maple Grove. 

“Where are we?” she mumbled, disoriented from sleep. 

Without answering. I scooped her up in my arms again, blanket and all, and carried her toward the entrance. 

“Put me down,” she protested weakly. “I can walk 

I 

“You’re barefoot,” I pointed out, continuing up the path to the front door. 

Once inside, I set her down with unexpected gentleness in the foyer. The familiar surroundings seemed to bring her fully awake, her eyes darting around as if searching for ghosts. 

“You should take a hot bath, I suggested. To ward off any chill ” 

She nodded absently, already moving toward the master bedroom. Instead of heading for the bathroom, however, she went straight to the closet, emerging minutes later in dry clothes. 

I watched in silence as she walked purposefully past me, heading not to the bathroom as I’d suggested, but 

directly to Lily’s bedroom. 

The door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, hesitating on the threshold as if gathering courage. 

(Olivia’s POV) 

I stood frozen in the doorway of Lily’s bedroom, my heart constricting painfully in my chest. Everything was exactly as she’d left it–the small bed with its moonflower–patterned comforter, the shelves lined with stuffed 

animals, the drawings taped to the walls 

Memories flooded back with such force that I had to grip the doorframe for support. Lily laughing as I braided her hair. Lily curled up with a book, her small face serious in concentration. Lily asking when Daddy 

would come home. 

My eyes were drawn to her study desk, where a familiar item caught my attention. It was Lily’s Amu Park Family Drawing–the one Ethan had given her, showing the three of us holding hands at Moonlight Fair 

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She had treasured that drawing, keeping it in a special frame on her desk. But something was different now. 

The frame was open, as if someone had recently handled it. 

I moved closer, my fingers trembling as I touched the edge of the frame. When had Lily opened this? I couldn’t remember her ever taking it out of the frame before she died. 

This small mystery–this tiny unknown detail about my daughter’s final days–hit me harder than I expected. What else had I missed? What other moments had slipped by while I was focused on her medical care? 

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