Chapter 1

Avelis’s POV

"Look at her. Not a single mark on her neck. It’s pathetic."

With my enhanced hearing, the mockery from the pack gossips was impossible to miss. I stood in the traditional white gown, waiting for the end of a six-year promise while the elders began to leave. Twenty-seven claiming ceremonies had already ended the same way. Tonight was the twenty-eighth—and my last.

A passing enforcer wouldn't even meet my eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the palpable shame hanging in the air. "Luna... the elders are leaving. Is the Alpha still on his way?"

"Just a bit longer," I murmured instinctively, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the altar stone. "It’s our anniversary. He might be checking the perimeter."

It was a hollow excuse. Even my wolf had stopped believing it.

When midnight struck, the ceremonial grounds felt entirely dead. Ignoring the sickening knot in my stomach, I pushed my consciousness along our Mate Bond, seeking him out. Varkean hadn't even bothered to erect his mental shields.

"Varkean... it burns... I snagged my paw on the silver-mesh..."

Nivara. Her sugary helplessness made my wolf bare its teeth.

Through the bond, his response was sickeningly gentle, overflowing with the devotion I had been denied for hours. "Shh, let me clean it. It's just a scratch, sweetie. I've got you."

He had kept me waiting for hours, yet every word he gave her was gentle. I sent a cold pulse through the bond. Varkean?

The warmth on the other end vanished instantly. Avelis? His tone morphed into its usual impatient snap. Why are you pushing into my mind? Nivara got hurt on the training grounds. Can't you be a little more mature? Stop suffocating me.

Mature. The word tasted like ash on my tongue. I am at the Moonstone Altar. Are you coming to claim me or not?

I'm on my way! Drop the attitude!

He severed the connection. I lowered my gaze. If he left me unmarked again tonight, I was done.

Twenty minutes later, Varkean burst through the tree line, smelling of pine and frantic energy. Seeing me waiting in the moonlight, a brief flash of genuine awe crossed his exhausted face.

“Avelis, I’m sorry,” he said. “You know how delicate Nivara is. You’ve always been strong. I knew you’d understand—but I made it.”

Instead of embracing me, he reached into his pocket and produced the Ancestral Luna Ring. He dropped to one knee, looking up with a sincerity that nearly made me forget the bitter mind-link from earlier. "You've bled for this pack. Tonight, I give you a true home."

My hand still trembled as I reached for the ring.

Howl.

A hysterical, piercing shriek tore through the pack's emergency frequency.

"Varkean! The river rapids! I'm slipping!" Nivara’s voice echoed loudly. "If you don't come save me, I'll let go!"

Varkean’s face drained of color. He jerked the ring out of my reach. Its sharp inner edge scraped across my outstretched finger, opening a thin cut, before he shoved it into his pocket and backpedaled toward the forest. "I have to go! You know she's unstable—the ceremony is just a formality anyway. Tomorrow, Avelis! I swear!"

My hand remained suspended in the freezing air, positioned to accept a mate who was already sprinting in the opposite direction. Before disappearing into the shadows, he yelled to a nearby servant: "Get her some of my private Silver-leaf tea! Cheer her up!"

An omega placed a steaming, silver-tinted cup on the altar. “Alpha Varkean said this might calm you.”

Silver-leaf brew. Nivara’s favorite.

Varkean remembered her fear of water, her nightmares, and how many blankets she needed. After more than two thousand nights beside me, he had forgotten that Silver-leaf could stop my heart.

I took the cup and poured it over the Moonstone.

The liquid hissed. Blood from the fresh cut on my finger touched the stone, and silver veins lit beneath my hand, twisting into a winged-wolf crest.

The Moonstone had been dark for generations. Pack children were taught that it answered only to the blood of the ancient Lycan houses.

I covered the glow before the omega could look closer.

Then I removed a sealed black communicator from inside my gown and pressed my bleeding thumb to its center.

“Identity confirmed,” a deep voice said. “Do you require extraction?”

“Open the north road,” I replied. “One passenger. Before dawn.”