The familiar hum of life in the Mills household was slowly returning, but the weight of recent events lingered in every corner like a ghost. Regina stepped into her living room, her sharp heels clicking against the pristine wooden floor. Everything had been repaired: the walls were smooth and freshly painted, the furniture replaced with elegant, understated pieces, and not a single shard of the destruction remained. To an outsider, it might have looked like nothing had happened.

But Regina could feel it. The scars remained—not on the walls, but in her heart, in her pack, and in the faint tremble of her hands as she reached for the back of a chair.

She wouldn't let herself falter. Not now.

The sound of muffled voices outside caught Regina's attention. Her amber eyes flickered toward the door just as Ruby entered, leading Mason and the rest of the pack into the house. Mason lingered in the back, his dark eyes scanning the room nervously. Though he stood tall, there was a wariness about him—a heaviness that hadn't been there before.

Regina stepped forward, her posture straight despite the lingering soreness in her body. "I see the house wasn't the only thing repaired," she said, her tone dry but laced with warmth. "You all look… intact."

Ruby smirked. "We've had worse. But you—" She gestured to Regina's freshly healed form. "You're supposed to be taking it easy."

"I don't have the luxury of 'easy,'" Regina replied smoothly, folding her arms. "But I appreciate the concern."

Mason hesitated before stepping forward. He looked more uncertain than usual, and it was clear he had something weighing on his mind. Regina tilted her head slightly, waiting for him to speak.

"Regina," Mason began, his voice quieter than usual, "the Keepers aren't done. They're planning something… something worse. I overheard whispers during my time in their hands, and I—" He swallowed, his voice faltering. "I can't lose another pack, another family."

Regina's gaze softened. She stepped closer, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. "Mason," she said firmly, her voice low and reassuring. "They will try. That's who they are—desperate, manipulative, and cruel. But we've faced them before, and we'll face them again. And I promise you this: I will always protect this pack. Always."

He nodded, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Regina surprised him with a brief but firm hug, a rare display of affection that spoke volumes. Mason clung to her for a moment, his body trembling slightly before he pulled away.

"You've been through hell," Regina said softly, meeting his gaze. "But you're still standing. And as long as you're with me, you'll never stand alone."

Later that evening, as the pack filtered out, Henry hovered near the stairs, watching Regina closely. He'd been her shadow since she returned from the hospital, refusing to leave her side except during school hours. Even then, he'd text her between classes, checking in like a young sentinel.

Regina caught his watchful gaze and sighed. "Henry, I'm not going to disappear if you go upstairs and do your homework."

"I just… I don't want you to be alone," he admitted, shifting awkwardly. "Not after everything."

Her heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. "I'm not alone," she reminded him gently. "I have you. And as much as I love having you glued to my side, you also have a life to live."

Henry hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Okay. But… I invited Emma over for dinner."

Regina's brows shot up. "You what?"

"She's worried about you too," Henry said quickly, his words tumbling out. "And I thought… maybe if she came over, we could all just—talk."

Regina's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue. "Fine," she said after a moment. "But you're responsible for setting the table."

Henry grinned, already darting toward the dining room. "Deal!"

As the night stretched on, Regina found herself alone in her study, her fingers tracing the edge of a map spread across the desk. Selene had disappeared after the battle, slipping into the shadows like a ghost. Regina had sent Ruby and the others to search for her, but every lead turned cold.

Her thoughts drifted back to the fleeting moments she'd seen Selene—the defiance in her eyes, the pain etched into her face. Regina clenched her fists, the guilt clawing at her. She should have protected Maeve. She should have saved Selene. But she hadn't, and now Selene was out there, alone and angry, just as Regina had once been.

"I'll find you," Regina murmured to the map. "And when I do, I'll show you that you're not alone."

When Emma arrived that evening, it was with a casual knock and a brown paper bag of pastries she'd picked up on the way. "Figured dessert wouldn't hurt," she said with a shrug as Henry let her in.

Regina, standing near the dining room table, raised an eyebrow. "You're late."

Emma smirked. "You're welcome."

Henry beamed as the two women exchanged their usual banter, clearly relieved to see some semblance of normalcy. They sat down to a modest but delicious dinner, the conversation flowing easily—at least at first.

But as the meal went on, Henry's nervous glances toward Emma grew more frequent. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "So, um… Emma. Do you believe in magic?"

Regina froze, her fork pausing mid-air. Emma blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Magic?" she repeated, frowning. "Like… card tricks?"

Henry shook his head. "No. Like real magic. You know… the stuff in stories."

Emma laughed softly, but it was more out of discomfort than amusement. "Kid, I think you've been reading too many books."

Regina shot Henry a warning look, but he pressed on. "What if it's real?" he asked earnestly. "What if everything you think you know isn't the whole story?"

Emma glanced between Henry and Regina, her brows knitting together. "What's this about?"

"Nothing," Regina said quickly, her tone sharp. "Henry, that's enough."

"But Mom—"

"Enough," she repeated, her voice firm.

The table fell into an awkward silence, the tension palpable. Emma pushed her chair back slightly, her expression unreadable. "I should go," she said, standing.

Henry looked crestfallen. "Emma, wait—"

"It's fine," Emma said, offering him a tight smile. "Thanks for dinner."

Regina watched her leave, her jaw tightening. She turned to Henry, who looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes. "Why won't you tell her?" he asked quietly. "She deserves to know."

Regina sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Because she's not ready," she said. But as she looked toward the door, she couldn't help but wonder if she was ready either.

Deep beneath the surface, hidden in the labyrinthine tunnels of their underground stronghold, the Keepers gathered. The air was thick with the acrid scent of ancient stone and the faint metallic tang of old magic. Flickering torches cast long, dancing shadows across the damp walls as their leader, a tall figure cloaked in darkness, addressed the group.

"We've weakened her," the leader began, their voice low and gravelly, echoing ominously through the chamber. "Regina has lost much—her strength, her power, even her sense of invincibility. But she's not yet broken."

The gathered Keepers murmured in agreement, their expressions a mix of malice and anticipation. One stepped forward, a wiry man with pale skin and calculating eyes. "Her son, Henry, remains her weakness," he said, his tone sharp. "If we want to end her reign for good, we need to exploit that bond."

The leader nodded slowly. "Indeed. The boy is her tether to humanity. Poisoning him—tainting his essence—will force her hand."

Another Keeper, a woman with long, silvery hair, spoke up. "But there's more," she said, her voice smooth and cold. "Mason spoke of someone important to Regina. A human. A woman."

The room fell silent as the implications of her words sank in. The leader's gaze darkened. "A human? Important to Regina?"

"It suggests a bond," the woman continued. "Something forbidden under both Keeper and werewolf law. If she has bonded with this woman… we can use it."

The leader's lips curled into a cruel smile. "A bonded pair is powerful—but also vulnerable. If we can unravel that bond, we'll tear her apart."

Their conversation paused as a faint cry echoed from an adjacent chamber. They turned their attention to a viewing window that overlooked the Guardians' medical ward. Dr. Whale, his white coat smeared with blood, stood over a birthing table where a woman lay motionless. Her face was pale, her chest still.

"It's a healthy baby," Dr. Whale announced, his tone devoid of emotion as he held up the crying infant.

The Keepers watched with detached curiosity as the Guardians removed the lifeless mother. The leader's gaze lingered on the scene. "One life ends, another begins. A perfect metaphor for our work."

Another Keeper, a younger man with sharp features, spoke up. "And what of Regina? When do we end her?"

The leader turned back to the group, their voice dripping with confidence. "We've been reeling her in ever since Leonard fell. Every step she takes, every loss she endures, brings her closer to her downfall. And when the moment comes, we'll strike."

Regina stepped into the Hollow Veil, the toxic mist swirling lazily around her as if acknowledging her presence. The air, which once burned her lungs and seared her skin, now seemed to part for her, obeying her unspoken will. The ground beneath her boots was soft with ash and damp with moisture, but she moved through it effortlessly.

She paused at the spot where she had last faced Elliot, her amber eyes scanning the desolate terrain. The memories of their battle were still fresh, the clash of claws and teeth, the raw emotions that had surged between them. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she tried to center herself.

"Elliot," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "Where are you?"

Regina opened her eyes and began to walk, searching for any sign of Selene. She stepped carefully over jagged rocks and gnarled roots, her senses sharp. But no matter how far she ventured, Selene remained elusive.

Unbeknownst to Regina, Selene watched from the shadows of the forest. Her piercing silver and ocean-blue eyes followed Regina's every movement, a mixture of anger and longing swirling within them. She wanted to approach, to confront, but her heart wasn't ready. Soon.

Regina left the Hollow Veil and made her way to Safe Haven, the scent of pine and fresh earth filling her lungs. The sight that greeted her was unexpected: the entire pack had gathered in the clearing, their chatter and laughter cutting through the stillness of the night.

Ruby was the first to notice her. "Regina!" she called, waving her over.

Regina approached, her gaze sweeping over the group. Despite their injuries and exhaustion, they looked… content. It was a sight she hadn't seen in a long time.

Her eyes landed on Hansel, still tied to a chair but looking far less agitated than before. He glanced at her and smirked. "Good to see you're alive, Your Majesty."

Regina rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Good to see you haven't chewed through the ropes."

The pack laughed, and for a moment, the heaviness in Regina's chest lifted. "Alright," she said, her tone firm but warm. "Let's get out of here. We're going to Granny's Diner."

The moment they stepped into Granny's Diner, the warm scent of freshly grilled burgers and hot coffee wrapped around them, driving away the lingering chill of the outside air. The small-town eatery bustled with the comforting clatter of plates, the faint hum of the jukebox in the corner playing a nostalgic tune, and the soft chatter of patrons. For the first time in what felt like forever, the pack could breathe without the weight of recent battles pressing down on them.

Ruby led the way, tossing her leather jacket onto the back of a chair at their usual booth. "Alright, everyone," she said, her voice ringing with mock authority. "Claim your seats before I take them all."

Archer rolled his eyes as he slid into the booth across from her. "Relax, Ruby. Nobody's fighting you for prime seating."

Leona, already holding a steaming mug of coffee Granny had handed her, quipped, "Not unless you're sitting on my lap, Ruby, and trust me, neither of us wants that."

The group laughed as they began to pile into the large corner section that had somehow always been "theirs." Granny, ever-efficient, appeared with plates before anyone could even glance at the menu.

"Burgers, chili cheese fries, and enough milkshakes to keep a pack of wolves quiet for a few minutes," she said with a knowing smirk, setting down a tray loaded with food. "And I'm not cleaning up your mess this time."

"Noted," Fey replied brightly, grabbing a milkshake and taking a long sip. "But no promises."

As plates were passed around, the teasing began. Ruby, biting into her burger, caught Graham staring at his double stack with hesitation.

"You're stalling," Ruby declared with a grin. "Face it, Graham—you're all bark and no bite."

Graham arched a brow, his hands poised around the towering burger. "Careful, Ruby. Don't challenge me unless you're prepared to lose."

"Oh, it's not a challenge," she shot back. "It's a prediction."

Encouraged by the growing banter, Mason joined in. "Five bucks says he gets halfway through and taps out," he said, leaning back with a grin.

"Make it ten," added Dax, who was already demolishing his fries. "The guy can lift trees, but food? No chance."

Graham grumbled, lifting the burger like a weapon of war. "You're all about to witness greatness."

At another part of the table, Sabine and Cosette were deep in conversation about the state of the pack's cabin repairs. Cosette gestured animatedly, her usually stoic demeanor softened as she explained her latest ideas.

"I'm telling you, Sabine, if we shift the kitchen layout, we'll have space for a better hearth. Something strong enough to handle winter nights," Cosette said, tapping a napkin where she'd hastily drawn a rough sketch.

Sabine nodded, her silver-streaked hair catching the light as she sipped her coffee. "Not a bad idea. We'd just need to convince Archer to help with the heavy lifting."

"Convince me of what?" Archer asked from a few seats down, his ears perking up.

"Just your usual duties as the pack mule," Sabine replied with a grin, earning a chorus of laughter from the table.

"Careful, Sabine," Archer retorted. "I might just let you carry the logs next time."

Hansel, free from his bindings but still closely watched, leaned back in his chair and observed the scene with quiet amusement. The pack's dynamic was fascinating—layers of loyalty, teasing, and genuine care woven together in a way he hadn't seen before.

"You're awfully quiet for someone who usually has plenty to say," Regina remarked, her voice calm but teasing as she looked at Hansel.

He smirked, swirling a glass of soda in his hand. "Just enjoying the show. You've got quite the crew, Your Majesty."

"Call me that again, and you'll be back in that chair," Regina quipped, though the glint in her eyes softened the threat.

Vera leaned over with a sly grin. "Let him stay loose, Regina. I want to see if he can survive a pack dinner without getting scared off."

"I don't scare easy," Hansel replied, earning a chorus of "We'll see" from the pack.

As the night went on, the group settled into a rhythm of casual conversation and hearty eating. Fey tried to swipe some of Mason's fries, earning a mock growl as he pulled his plate away.

"Sharing is caring," she said sweetly.

"Not when it comes to my food," Mason shot back, his protective grip on the plate exaggerated for effect.

Ruby leaned over to Regina, a curious look on her face. "You've been quiet tonight," she said softly. "Everything alright?"

Regina sipped her tea, her gaze drifting over the lively group. "I'm just… taking it all in," she replied. "It's been a while since we've had this."

Ruby nodded, understanding. "We needed this," she said. "And so did you."

As the plates emptied and the diner began to quiet, Granny approached with the check. "Alright, wolves," she said with a grin. "Who's paying tonight?"

All eyes turned to Regina, who sighed dramatically. "I suppose this one's on me."

The pack erupted in cheers and laughter, their spirits lifted as they prepared to head back to Safe Haven.

Outside, the night was cool and calm, the stars peeking through the clouds. As they walked back together, their laughter echoed in the stillness. For a brief moment, the burdens of their battles and the weight of their struggles felt lighter.

And at the center of it all, Regina walked with quiet pride. For all the chaos in their lives, they were together—and that was enough.

By the time Regina returned home, the night was quiet and still. She stepped inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath her feet grounding her. The soft sound of laughter drew her toward the living room.

She paused in the doorway, her heart softening at the sight. Henry and Emma were on the couch, controllers in hand, their faces alight with excitement as they battled each other in a video game. Henry was grinning ear to ear, his laughter filling the room.

"You're going down, Emma!" he declared.

"In your dreams, kid," Emma shot back, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Regina leaned against the doorway, watching them with a small smile. For all the chaos in her life, this moment was perfect. Quiet. Simple.

The living room still hummed with the echoes of laughter and playful banter as the smell of tomato sauce and freshly kneaded dough wafted through the house. Regina had just left Henry with the controller in hand, grinning smugly after defeating him in their latest match. When Henry suggested ordering pizza, Regina raised a brow and declared, "Why settle for second-rate when you can have homemade?"

Emma, lounging on the couch, raised an intrigued brow. "Homemade pizza? Fancy."

"Not fancy, just better," Regina replied, smoothing her hair as she tied on an apron. "Henry's favorites are pepperoni and extra cheese. What about you, Ms. Swan?"

"Anything but anchovies," Emma quipped, standing up. "And hey, if you're making it, I'll help."

Regina arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You'll help?"

"Yeah," Emma said, crossing her arms. "What, you don't think I can chop a few vegetables?"

"Let's just say I have my doubts," Regina replied, gesturing toward the cutting board on the counter. "But by all means, prove me wrong."

Emma shot her a mock glare as she grabbed a knife and started slicing a bright red bell pepper. "I'll show you who can chop."

Regina worked methodically, rolling out the dough and spreading sauce with practiced ease. The atmosphere was oddly peaceful, the clinking of utensils and the crackling of the oven filling the silence. For a moment, it felt like any normal evening.

Until Emma yelped.

"Dammit," Emma hissed, dropping the peeler and clutching her left hand. A thin line of blood welled up from a gash along her palm, the blade having slipped on the slick surface of the bell pepper.

Regina's head snapped up from her task, her amber eyes narrowing. "What happened?"

"Just a little cut," Emma muttered, waving her hand dismissively. She stepped toward the sink, sticking her hand under the running water. "Nothing to worry about."

Regina wiped her hands on a towel and moved swiftly to Emma's side. Her tone was firm. "Let me see."

Emma shook her head, cradling her hand. "It's fine, Regina. I've got it."

Regina's jaw tightened. "Emma." Her voice softened, but her eyes were resolute. "Let me see."

With a sigh, Emma relented, holding out her injured hand. The gash wasn't deep, but blood seeped steadily from the cut, the crimson stark against her pale skin. Regina's gaze fixed on the wound, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"It's really not a big deal," Emma said, shifting uncomfortably under Regina's scrutiny.

Regina didn't answer right away. Instead, she placed her fingers gently under Emma's wrist, her touch firm but careful. The faintest spark of something unspoken passed between them—a bond that hummed in the air, palpable and unyielding.

"Stay still," Regina murmured, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

Regina leaned down, and before Emma could react, her lips brushed against the edge of the wound. Emma froze, her breath hitching as a warmth spread through her palm. It wasn't just the touch; it was something more—something deeper.

A faint, almost imperceptible glow radiated from where Regina's mouth met Emma's hand. Regina felt it too, a pull from deep within her being. Her eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, and when they opened again, her irises burned crimson—wolfish and raw. It lasted only a heartbeat, but it was enough to unsettle Emma.

"What the hell?" Emma breathed, her voice breaking the silence.

Regina straightened, letting go of Emma's hand. The cut was gone, the skin smooth and unbroken. Regina stepped back, wiping her mouth with the edge of her apron. Her expression was calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

"You're healed," Regina said simply, turning back to the counter.

Emma stared at her hand, her brows knitting together. "You… what was that?"

"It's nothing," Regina replied, resuming her task of spreading cheese over the pizza dough.

Emma crossed her arms, her tone rising. "You just—" She stopped, her eyes narrowing. "Your eyes. They… changed."

Regina's hands stilled. Slowly, she turned to face Emma, her expression guarded. "You're just imagining things."

Emma stepped closer, her voice dropping. "They turned red, Regina. For a second. What are you hiding?"

Regina met Emma's gaze, her own amber eyes steady now. "I'm not hiding anything."

Emma scoffed, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, come on. You healed my hand with… what? Magic? Saliva?"

Regina smirked faintly, a flicker of her usual sharpness returning. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Don't change the subject," Emma shot back, though her tone lacked real bite. "What was that?"

Regina sighed, turning away and placing the pizza in the oven. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

Emma watched her carefully, sensing there was more to the story but unsure how to push further. The air between them was charged, thick with unspoken truths and lingering tension.

As the pizza baked, the kitchen grew quiet again, save for the occasional pop of the oven. Regina leaned against the counter, her arms crossed as she watched Emma out of the corner of her eye.

Emma, for her part, kept glancing at her healed hand, the confusion in her expression slowly giving way to something softer—curiosity, perhaps. She finally broke the silence. "Well, I guess I owe you one."

Regina arched a brow. "For what?"

"For not letting me bleed all over your kitchen," Emma said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Regina chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. "Consider it even."

Emma grinned, leaning against the counter beside her. Regina tilted her head, her smile growing. Emma laughed, the sound easing the lingering tension. For the first time in what felt like hours, the moment felt light again.

"Is it ready yet?" Henry's voice rang out from the living room, followed by the sound of his footsteps as he bounded into the kitchen.

"Almost," Regina called back, straightening. "Be patient."

Henry sniffed the air dramatically. "Smells awesome. But wait—" He paused, looking between Regina and Emma. "What happened? Did you two bond over vegetables or something?"

Emma snorted. "Something like that."

Regina shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Go set the table, Henry."

As Henry scampered off, Emma glanced at Regina, her smile lingering. "You're not going to tell me what that was, are you?"

Regina met her gaze, her expression unreadable. "Not tonight."

Emma held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright. But I'm not letting this go."

Regina's lips quirked upward in a faint smile. "I'd expect nothing less."

The timer on the oven dinged, signaling the pizza was ready. And as Regina pulled it out, the scent of melted cheese and roasted vegetables filling the room, the moment between them remained—unspoken but undeniably present.

The three of them—Regina, Emma, and Henry—finally sat down at the table. The aroma of freshly baked pizza filled the kitchen, its warmth dispelling any lingering tension from earlier. Henry eagerly grabbed a slice, his chatter filling the space with youthful energy as he recounted his day at school.

Emma leaned back in her chair, her eyes subtly observing Regina. Despite the relaxed atmosphere, her thoughts were a whirl of questions. That flicker of crimson in Regina's eyes, the way her touch had healed the cut—it wasn't something she could easily dismiss.

"Best pizza ever," Henry declared, his mouth half-full. He glanced at Regina. "Right, Mom?"

Regina smiled softly, taking a small bite of her own slice. "It's not bad," she teased, though her pride in the effort was evident.

Emma smirked, reaching for another slice. "Well, consider me impressed. Homemade beats delivery any day."

As they ate, the kitchen was filled with the easy comfort of shared moments—a rare respite from the chaos that so often surrounded them. But for Regina, the moment wasn't without its shadows. Her bond with Emma was undeniable, growing stronger with each passing interaction, and yet it was also a risk—one that could unravel everything if the wrong people discovered it.

After dinner, Henry darted back to the living room, dragging Emma along to finish their video game rematch. Regina lingered in the kitchen, clearing the plates and wiping down the counter. Her movements were deliberate, her mind elsewhere.

For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, to feel the quiet contentment of her home. But the memory of Emma's blood—the instinctive pull to heal her—lingered in her thoughts. It wasn't just the bond. It was something more. Her fingers brushed the edge of the counter as she closed her eyes briefly, letting the hum of the bond settle in her chest. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was unfamiliar, and that made it dangerous.

From the living room, Henry's laughter rang out, followed by Emma's playful groan of defeat. Regina smiled faintly, shaking her head as she moved to join them.

As she reached the doorway, she paused, glancing back at the dim kitchen. For the first time in what felt like years, her home felt alive again. And while the future loomed uncertain, for now, she allowed herself to savor the moment.