And when Addison laid out her plans—well-thought-out, efficient, and brilliantly strategic—those alphas were left speechless. One by one, they opened their doors to trade with her. The agreements weren’t as generous as those under the previous alpha, but they were enough to keep her pack from withering away.
In truth, she had led her people through a storm. And that fire-forged experience had turned her into the leader they always hoped she would become.
"It’s alright, Father. How about a sparring match?" Addison suggested, trying to steer the conversation away from memories that weighed heavily on her. If there was anyone she truly missed from the Midnight River Pack, it would be Levi—and a handful of others who had treated her kindly.
"Ah, right! It’s been a while since we last sparred," the Alpha King said, his mood shifting immediately. "I want to see if you’ve gotten rusty." The somber thoughts were pushed aside without complaint.
"Uncle, Addison—how about sparring with me instead?" Mila interjected, stepping forward with a gentle smile. "You’ve been gone for quite a while, Addison. I heard from Uncle that things were tough, and you probably didn’t have much time to train. It might be better to warm up with me first. Besides, with Uncle’s strength, he might accidentally go too hard—and you’re still recovering, right?"
Only then did they seem to remember Mila was still with them. The Alpha King blinked, a flicker of guilt crossing his face for unintentionally overlooking his niece. "You’re right," he said, nodding quickly in agreement.
"That’s not a bad idea either," the Alpha King agreed thoughtfully. "You two were childhood playmates, after all. You used to spar from time to time, so I think starting with Mila might help jog your memory. Don’t you think?"
He glanced at Addison, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. As much as he longed for his daughter to regain her memories, he couldn’t ignore the harsh truth—Addison had been held captive by the vampires for three long years, and they had broken her spirit. The thought that she might have forgotten how to fight, forgotten the fierce warrior she once was, weighed heavily on him.
With her amnesia clouding the past, sparring with Mila—someone familiar and less overwhelming than himself—seemed like the safest and wisest choice. At the very least, it would give him a clearer idea of where Addison stood now, and how much of the warrior within her still remained.
"Alright, that works too," Addison said with a nod, smiling at her cousin and father.
Not long after, they all made their way to the private training ground — a space primarily used by the Royal Family. It was here that Addison had spent most of her life training, learning one-on-one from her father while her mother watched quietly from the sidelines.
As they arrived, the Alpha King, walking ahead of the group, came to a stop. He looked around, nostalgia washing over him as he inhaled deeply. Then he turned back to glance at his daughter. The twins were already darting around with bright, eager eyes.
Weapon racks lined the edges of the marbled arena at the center. On the sides were marble benches. The Queen walked to one of them with practiced ease and sat down, watching the children explore the space with curious excitement. A moment later, the Alpha King joined her, while Mila strode confidently to the center of the arena.
"Cousin, please get ready and let me know when you’re prepared," Mila said gently, her expression kind and considerate as she looked at Addison.
Addison appreciated the warmth in her cousin’s voice and nodded in response, though her eyes soon drifted across the vast training ground. She watched her twins darting around excitedly, their small hands reaching toward the weapons displayed on the racks.
The Queen’s sharp voice suddenly cut through the air. "Kids! Don’t touch those! They’re sharp — you’ll hurt yourselves. Come here to Grandma and let’s just watch your mother train, alright?"
At that moment, a memory stirred in Addison’s mind — vivid and uninvited.
It felt as though she were a bystander, watching a scene from the past play out in front of her. In it, a chubby little girl with long golden hair giggled as she ran through the same training ground, her young attendant chasing her in a futile attempt to catch up. The child was swift, clever in her evasions, and full of innocent joy.
She approached the weapon rack, her tiny hand reaching toward a sword — just before her mother’s commanding voice rang out, stopping her in her tracks. Startled, the girl flinched but still accidentally touched the sharp blade.
Pain followed. Real pain.
Addison remembered the sudden sting, the sight of blood welling from the small cut. She had cried instantly, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sensation. Back then, she had been too young to awaken her wolf — and without it, her wounds couldn’t heal on their own.
As mischievous as she had been as a child, Addison was always eager to explore anything new that caught her eye. Curiosity burned bright in her — and it often got her into trouble. She had been crying from the pain when Mila, already fidgeting nervously, rushed over.
"A-Addison, I told you not to touch anything! Do you want to get hurt and worry the Queen?"
Young Mila, so thin she looked like a breeze might carry her away, hovered nearby in a fluster. Addison remembered how her mother, the Queen, knelt beside her, dabbing gently at the bleeding wound with a handkerchief, her face drawn with concern.
But Addison, lips trembling in a pout, stared at Mila. She remembered it clearly — Mila had once boasted about touching a sword without anyone noticing, claiming it felt amazing and those swords were a lucky charm for those destined to become great warriors.
Fueled by that memory, Addison had come into the training ground determined to find the best-looking sword and touch it herself. But now, hearing Mila’s scolding tone, it felt like her cousin was painting her as the reckless one in front of the Queen, like she had forgotten what she’d said.
A quiet wave of indignation and resentment rose in Addison’s chest, but she didn’t voice it. She only lowered her head.
"Sorry, Mother..." young Addison mumbled softly.
A warm, melodious voice pulled Addison from her thoughts.
"Addison, are you alright?"
She looked up to find Mila standing nearby, her head tilted slightly, a gentle smile on her face filled with grace and kindness. Addison blinked, then smiled faintly in return.
That had been a long time ago. They were only children back then. It would be far-fetched — even ridiculous — to think young Mila had deliberately tried to turn her mother against her.
Wouldn’t it?
She pushed the memory aside.
Addison stepped into the arena, rolling her shoulders to shake off the stiffness. She tilted her head from side to side, stretching her neck as she loosened up.
Then she heard Mila’s voice again.
"Cousin, you can go ahead and attack first. I’ll match your pace. Since you haven’t fought in a while, our levels might be different now — so it’s better if you set the tempo," Mila said, her tone as gentle and kind as ever.