Liam's POV
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe.
Emma stops pushing me away. She starts saying yes when I ask to walk her home from the bakery. She talks to me about her day. She laughs at my jokes. It's small but it's everything.
I'm learning her again. Or maybe for the first time.
The Emma I'm getting to know now is different from the Luna I remember. She's softer here. Less guarded. When we talk, she's not calculating or strategic. She's just Emma. Real and honest and completely herself.
I never knew this version of her existed.
At Frost Peak, she was always performing. Always trying to be what everyone needed. The strong Luna. The perfect mate. The worthy partner for an Alpha. She was carrying the weight of expectations and she was breaking under it and I was too blind to see it.
But here. Here she's free.
Last week we had coffee and talked about nothing important. Just about the bakery and the village and the people she knows. Emma told me about learning to make croissants and how she messed up the first batch so badly that she fed them all to the birds. She laughed when she told the story and the sound of it felt like coming home.
I'm falling in love all over again.
But it's different this time. It's not the lightning bolt mate bond feeling. It's something slower and deeper. Something built on actually knowing her instead of instinct telling me she's mine.
This morning Emma asked me to meet her at the diner for breakfast.
She asked me.
I arrived early and watched her walk in. She was wearing a blue sweater and her hair was down and when she saw me, she smiled. Not the polite smile she gave me that first week. A real smile. One that said she was happy to see me.
We sat in the same booth as always. In the back corner where it's quiet.
"I had a good day yesterday," Emma said. "We sold out of bread by two in the afternoon. Rachel said we should make more but I think people are just happy to have fresh bakery items in town."
"You're good at what you do," I said. "People can taste the difference."
Emma stirred her coffee. "I never thought about it that way. I always just made what felt right."
"That's what makes it good," I said. "You're not thinking about it. You're just being yourself."
She looked at me over the rim of her cup and something shifted in her expression. Like she was seeing me differently. Like something was clicking into place.
"Why are you so good at understanding me," she asked. "We just met and sometimes it feels like you know me better than people I've known my whole life."
I could have said it was because of the bond. I could have told her about our three years together. But I didn't.
"Maybe because I'm not trying to be good at it," I said. "I'm just paying attention."
After breakfast, I walked her to the bakery. The snow was falling and everything was quiet. She moved close to me as we walked and I tried not to read too much into it. Tried not to hope.
Over the next week, we fall into a routine.
I'm at the diner when she goes for her morning coffee. I help her close up the bakery in the evenings. We take walks through the forest even though it's freezing. We talk about books and music and dreams. We're building something.
And Emma is opening up more every day.
Three nights ago, we were walking through the village after closing the bakery. Emma was telling me about her parents. How they died when she was young. How Grace raised her alone. How scared she was of losing Grace the way she lost them.
"But you didn't lose her," I said.
"No," Emma said. "Grace is the strongest person I know."
She said this proudly but also with sadness. Like she understood what Grace sacrificed.
We walked in silence for a while. Then Emma took my hand.
Just like that. No hesitation. No warning. She just reached over and held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The mate bond roared to life inside me. It recognized the contact. It screamed that this was my mate. That I should pull her close and claim her.
I didn't do any of that.
I just walked with her hand in mine and I let myself feel what it meant. That Emma was starting to trust me. That her body remembered me even if her mind didn't.
Tonight we're walking home again.
The bakery closed two hours ago and we stayed after to clean. Rachel left first, giving me a look that said she approved. Now it's just us walking through the quiet village toward the cabin where Grace is waiting.
The night is cold and clear. Stars are visible above the trees. Snow crunches under our feet.
"Thank you for walking me home," Emma says. It's what she always says.
"I'll always walk you home," I tell her. It's what I always say.
We reach the cabin and Emma turns to face me. And that's when it happens.
She looks at me and something shifts in her eyes. It's not memory. I can see that. Her brow isn't furrowed like she's trying to remember. Instead her eyes are soft. Warm. Recognizing me for who I am in this moment.
Not the Alpha who scared her. Not the mate she doesn't remember. Just Liam. The man who follows her to work. Who fixes her truck. Who listens to her stories like they matter.
"I'm glad you came to Willowbrook," she says softly.
My heart stops.
"Yeah," I say. And I have to fight the urge to pull her closer. To close the distance between us. To kiss her and show her how much this moment means to me.
"I think I'm starting to feel something," Emma continues. "Something that doesn't make sense because I don't remember you but my body knows you somehow."
"Emma," I start.
The door behind her flies open.
Grace stands in the doorway and the warmth in her expression freezes into ice. She takes in the scene in front of her. Emma turning toward me. The way we're standing close. The hand I'm about to reach out to her.
"Get away from her," Grace says.
Her voice is deadly quiet. Dangerous. More dangerous than anything I've heard before.
"Grace, it's okay," Emma says quickly.
"No it's not," Grace snaps. She steps outside and physically pulls Emma behind her. "Get inside, Emma. Now."
"Grace, we were just—" Emma starts.
"I said get inside."
Emma looks at me with confusion and apology written across her face. She disappears into the cabin.
Now it's just me and Grace on the porch.
She's smaller than me but her eyes are burning with pure hatred. Her entire body is tense like she's about to shift. Like she wants to fight me.
"If you hurt her," Grace says, "I will end you. I don't care what you are. I don't care how powerful you are. I will burn your world down."
"I'm not trying to hurt her," I say calmly.
"You already did," Grace snaps. "You dragged her into a life that nearly killed her. You made her into something she wasn't meant to be. And now you're here trying to do it again."
"That's not what I'm doing," I say.
"No," Grace says. "You're doing something worse. You're making her fall in love with you while she's vulnerable. While she doesn't remember what you did to her. That's manipulation. That's evil."
"I'm not manipulating her," I say. "I came here to give her a choice. To let her know me as I am now, not as I was."
"You're the same person," Grace says viciously. "People don't change. Not really. You just wear a different mask."
"Maybe you're right," I say. And I mean it. "Maybe I haven't changed. But I'm trying to. Every single day I'm trying to be someone worthy of her. Even if I never get there."
Grace stares at me and I can see the conflict in her expression. She wants to believe I'm lying. She wants to believe I'm here to hurt Emma.
But she can see the truth. She can see that I mean what I'm saying.
"She doesn't remember the life you gave her," Grace says finally. "She doesn't remember the fear. The pressure. The way you demanded everything from her. If she remembers, she's going to hate you. And it will destroy her to realize she fell for you while not knowing who you really are."
"I know," I say.
"Do you," Grace asks. "Do you really understand what you're risking."
"Yes," I say. "And I'm choosing to take that risk because I love her. Not because I want to own her. Because I genuinely want her to be happy."
Grace's jaw clenches.
"You have one chance," she says. "One. If I see you treating her like property again. If I see her look afraid of you. If I see her sacrificing herself for you, I'm taking her away from here. And you'll never find her. Do you understand me."
"I understand," I say.
Grace goes inside and slams the door.
I stand alone on the porch in the cold and I understand something that terrifies me.
Grace knows more about Emma's life at Frost Peak than Emma does.
And whatever happened there scared Emma so badly that her sister is ready to fight an Alpha to keep it from happening again.
I promised myself I was different. I promised myself I would respect Emma's choices.
But what if my choices at Frost Peak were unforgivable.
What if when Emma remembers, she realizes Grace was right.
What if she hates me.
The thought nearly breaks me.