Chapter 0072
Cara’s POV
In order to manage my responsibilities, I take turns watching over Mia at the Pack DarkWood hospital, switching with Ruby or my assistant so that I can return to BloodyMoon for official business, as well as to care for my son Ethan.”
Once the doctors get Mia stabilized and shifted back to human form, she will come back to BloodyMoon, too. She’ll need weekly treatments in DarkWood, but I look forward to the day when she can sleep in her own bed at home once again. The doctors tell me it will be any day now.
I see a text from Eamon, asking me to meet him in his office. I arrive soon after and knock on his door before entering.
“You asked to see me?” I ask. He’s sitting expectantly at his desk, like he has been waiting
for me.
“Yes, we need to prepare for your official appointment as Beta. There are a few very important items to discuss,” Eamon says
“Such as?” I ask, taking a seat in front of his large wooden desk.
“First, we need to talk about your name,” he says, watching me carefully.
“My name?” I’m confused. Why would we need to discuss that? What’s wrong with the name Cara?
“Cara is not the name you were given at birth.” Eamon says. “There has never been a Cara Auburn.”
“Yes, Grandmother picked that name for me when she took me in. I was only three years old and was too scared to talk for a long time. By the time I remembered my real name, I was so used to everyone at Pack DarkWood calling me Cara that I never corrected them,” I explain.
I had taken Grandmother’s own last name and became known from that time forward as
Cara Wilson.
“Of course, but doesn’t the name Cara remind you of your orphaned past? Doesn’t it bring up painful memories that you’d rather forget now that you’re back at home?” Eamon sounds genuinely curious.
I think about his questions for a moment. Yes, Cara was the name given to me as an orphan in Pack DarkWood, and many parts of my childhood were difficult and painful. Constant bullying for my low–born status, constant bittemess from the nobles.
But those experiences are what made me the she–wolf I am today. The difficulty I faced as
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a child made me stronger, forced me to work harder, be smarter. Those challenges gave me the confidence to know that I can handle tough times.
“Cara is who I am. I don’t regret my past. Both the good things and the bad things I’ve face have made me who I am.” I reply, looking into Eamon’s green eyes.
“You truly are amazing, Cara.” Eamon says with wonderment in his voice. “I wish we all could be as mature as you are.”
I blush at the compliment, “I’m just me.”
“For official work purposes, you will need to select a new name. You may go by Cara for private, casual use, but your work name will be special.“Eamon says.
“”What name should I pick?” I ask, trying unsuccessfully to come up with ideas for work
names.
“There are a few options…” Eamon says, reaching into one of his desk drawers. He grabs something, pulling it out and looking down at it for a moment before extending his arm to
ΠΕ.
It’s a paper… no, a photograph. He hands it to me, and I take it. The photo is over two decades old.
It’s a woman with flaming red hair gently cradling an infant. The woman is beautiful, and her green eyes are full of love and happiness.
I recognize her immediately.
It’s my mother.
“Who is the baby?” I ask Eamon, studying the infant’s small face.
“You.” Eamon replies softly.
I see a wisp of red hair atop my head, not yet grown into the lush mane
I have today. I look at my face and see a resemblance to what Mia and Ethan looked like as
babies.
What did Alaric look like as baby? I wish I could see a photo of him to compare…
Wait.
Where did that thought come from?!
I blink several times and shake my head, returning my thoughts to my mother. She’s so pretty, and she looks so content with her little girl in her arms. The story goes that she died of a broken heart not long after I went missing
I wasn’t even old enough to have any lasting memories of her. The thought fills me with
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despair.
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I take a deep breath, controlling my emotions. It’s something I’m very well–practiced at, containing myself when the moment requires
“Why did you give me this?” I ask Eamon, pointing to the photograph.
“It was Father who insisted on naming you Lilla.” He says the name Lilia with such distaste, like even saying the word contaminates his mouth.
I frown, remembering that wretched woman who pretended to be me.
It was her mother, my brothers‘ Nanny, who had swapped our places. She had used her own illegitimate daughter as a replacement for the true princess, hoping no one would ever ‘find out the truth.
Even now, we’re still not sure how much Lilia knew of her mother’s plot, whether the girl was aware that she was a bastard child of the Alpha King. At this point, it no longer matters. Lilia is long gone, unable to hurt anyone else. It’s been years since she’s been sighted by
anyone.
“Mother disliked the name Lilia. She wanted to pick something else, but Father always got his way. He never did like to compromise…” Eamon says with his own frown.
I’ve heard stories about my Father. My brothers say he was a hard man, focused only on work and success. He never made time for his family, never felt interested in his children’s lives.
“I can’t use the name Lilia,” I say to Eamon firmly. That would be far too painful a reminder of everything Lilia has taken from me: my wolf, my daughter’s health, my
connection to Alaric….
Dammit, another errant thought of Alaric.
I internally chastise myself and refocus on my conversation with Eamon.
“Of course you will not use the name Lilia. But I thought you might want to know the name. Mother wanted to call you,” Eamon says.
“What was it?” I ask.
“Aylon.” He smiles down at the little baby in the photograph in my hands. “She wanted you to be called Aylon Auburn.”
“It’s a lovely name,” I whisper, tracing my finger over the baby’s smile, my smile.
“It is indeed.” Eamon replies.
“What does it mean?” I ask, not sure if Eamon would know if the name has special meaning.
“It comes from an old word for the halo od light that surrounds the won the bes night,” Eamon says, “Mother thought it would be the perfect name for a www princess.”
“Then that’s who I shall be Aylon Auburn. Thee it’s who ‘uple, it’s knew it.” I say to him.
Aylon. Yes, it feels right.
It feels like destiny.
Eamon smiles at me before grabbing a pen from his desk. He writes in big, bold verge on the page:
“Aylon Auburn, Pack BloodyMoon’s official Peta.”
