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I 1 Liz Sweat poured down my face as I scrubbed at the stain on the wooden floor in the hallway. The rag in my hand was already soaked through with murky gray water. The bucket beside me had turned cloudy from the amount of soap I had poured into it in a desperate attempt to make the board shine. My knees ached from kneeling for so long and the scent of cleaning chemicals stung my nose. I had already mopped this hallway once today. Apparently, that hadn't been good enough. According to Luna Faye, nothing I did was ever enough. I scrubbed harder, pressing my weight into the rag as if brute force — what little I could manage — alone could erase the faint discoloration from the scuff marks in the wood grain. The pack house floors were old. Beautiful, carved oak boards polished by generations of wolves walking the same halls. But that also meant stains had a way of settling deep where no amount of scrubbing could reach. Not that Luna Faye cared about that. Everything had to be perfect for today. Perfect for the Welcoming Ceremony. Perfect for the return of their heir. Rowan Steele. Our future alpha. And beside him, his chosen beta Cade Joyner. The names alone sent a shiver down my spine. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin, hackles lifting in a silent instinct to flee. I hadn't seen Rowan since I was fifteen years old. Six years. Six long years since he and Cade had left Coral Fang territory to attend Alpha Leadership Academy. That school was legendary among shifter packs. It was where future alphas and betas were sharpened into weapons. They learned strategy, combat, politics, war tactics, and ruthlessness. Boys left. Men returned. And Rowan Steele had always been dangerous, even before that training. When I last saw him, he had been arrogant and sharp-tongued, every bit the cocky alpha heir everyone expected him to be. Tall even then, broad shouldered even at nineteen. Always walking like the world naturally parted for him. Cade had been worse. Rowan's shadow. His right hand. The quiet kind of cruelty that didn't need raised voices to make people nervous. Even back then, they had moved like a perfectly balanced pair. Rowan the fire and power, Cade the blade. Now they were returning fully grown and fully trained. Fully powerful. The thought made the back of my neck prickle. I scrubbed harder. The pack house bustled around me like a kicked anthill. Servants rushed through the halls carrying flowers, linens, and platters of food. The scent of roasting meat drifted from the kitchen downstairs while omegas hurried past, balancing trays of crystal glasses and polished silverware. The Coral Fang packhouse was massive. Three sprawling floors of dark timber and carved stone are built into the cliffs overlooking the sea. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the western halls, offering a breathtaking view of the crashing waves and the jagged coastline. Visitors always described this place as beautiful. To me, it was a cage. The higher ranking wolves lived on the upper floors in sprawling private suites. Warriors filled the barracks wing. Guests had entire corridors dedicated to them. The omegas — servants like me, lived in the small basement rooms beneath the kitchen. Close enough to be summoned. Far enough away to stay out of sight. "Are you going to do your job or are you going to slack off all dаmed day?" The sharp bark of Beta Richard's — Cades father — Voice cut through the hallway like a whip. My shoulders jerked involuntarily. I flinched and scrubbed the floor faster. He was a man I tried very hard to avoid. Truthfully, I tried to avoid everyone here. But especially him and the alpha family. His boots echoed slowly against the polished wood as he approached. The heavy scent of dominance rolled off of him in waves. It was thick and suffocating. Meant to remind anyone nearby exactly where they stood in the pack hierarchy. At the very top were the alphas. Then betas. Then warriors. Then everyone else, like servants and regular pack members. Then there was me. Omegas were at the bottom. The bottom of the bottom. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, hoping — praying — he would simply keep walking. Luck had never been something I possessed. I felt the shove before I saw it coming. His boot slammed into my shoulder. I tumbled sideways, knocking into the bucket beside me. Sudsy water sloshed across the floorboards and splattered up my arms as the bucket overturned. I winced in pain, feeling my joints rattle against the force. I hit the floor hard, but I refused to make a sound. Men like Beta Richard thrived on that. Pain. Fear. Submission. He loved watching those beneath him squirm. Especially me. I had never seen him treat anyone else quite this harshly. Apparently, I was special. Lucky me. I slowly pushed myself upright, water dripping from my sleeves as I righted the bucket with shaking hands. I still didn't know what I had done to deserve the treatment I had earned and received my entire life. Maybe it was simply because I was an orphan. Then again... Maybe it was more than that. Everything I knew about my origins could fit inside a single paragraph. I had been found as a newborn. Wrapped in a blanket. Left on the rocky shoreline at the edge of Coral Fang territory. A storm had been rolling in that night. The waves had been rising high against the cliffs, crashing violently against the rocks. Two patrol wolves had been rushing home to avoid the storm when they heard crying. They found me tucked inside a narrow alcove between the stones. Tiny. Cold. Alone. That was all anyone ever told me. Well. That... and the taunts. The whispers. The cruel jokes that followed me through childhood. Even your own parents didn't want you. They left you for the sea. They hoped the waves would take you. Everything unoriginal and expected of the usual bullies. Only the usual bullies were everyone in this pack. Some days, though... part of me believed all of that to be true. Other days, I allowed myself to hope. No. To pray. That somewhere out there, there was a family looking for me. A family who wanted me. Loved me. That's what Gloria used to tell me. The memory struck my chest like a dull ache. Gloria had been the shewolf who took me in when I was a baby. She was the pack seamstress. Quiet, patient, always humming under her breath as she worked. She used to say that when she first saw me, wrapped in that storm-soaked blanket, she knew immediately that I was special. She was the only one who ever thought so. Gloria had been my entire world. And she died a year ago. A vampire attack near the northern border. They found her body mutilated in the sand along the shores. The pack had called it an unfortunate loss. To me, it had been the loss of the only person who had ever loved me. Now the small room she used to share with me felt unbearably empty. No warm hands brushing my hair after a bad day. No quiet reassurances whispered when the pack's cruelty became too much. No gentle patching up of cuts and bruises. I had learned to do that myself now. How to stitch wounds. How to hide bruises — not that anyone here cared if I was bruised or injured. They all just loved to add more. I had learned how to survive. Survival was something I had been doing since my very first breath. I had always wondered where I came from. Who my parents were. What traits I got from which parent. Who I looked like more. I wondered what I had done as a newborn that made them leave me behind. I shoved the thoughts aside as Beta Richard's footsteps moved closer. My body tensed automatically. Waiting. Bracing for the next blow. Instead, he crouched down in front of me. His thick fingers shot out and grabbed my chin. Hard. Pain shot through my jaw as his grip tightened. I already knew a bruise would bloom there later. "I suggest you clean this mess," he growled. His breath smelled faintly of tobacco and whiskey. "Unless you want me to get Alpha Marcus in here. I don't think he would like to see how little work you've done. Would you?" I tried to shake my head, but his grip held me in place. My throat closed with panic. I couldn't speak. I was an omega. At Coral Fang, that meant I was lower than everyone. Even the weakest wolf in the pack outranked me. My wolf whimpered inside of me, desperate to submit. She wanted to roll onto her back, expose our throat. Show every vulnerable part of our body in submission. The human side of me wanted to snarl in his face. Claw his eyes out. I hated this place. I hated being treated like this. I hated being abused. I hated being forced to work without wages, without freedom, without dignity. I wanted to leave. But I had nowhere to go. Going rogue wasn't an option. Not with the vampire threat growing stronger each year. Rogue wolves didn't last long out there. At least here... I survived. "Words!" Beta Richard barked. My body trembled. "No sir," I whispered. "No? No, you don't think he would like to see? Or no, you don't want me to get him?" "No sir, he wouldn't like it. Please. I will do my work." Outwardly, I did everything expected of me. I submitted. I obeyed. Shrank into the meek servant girl they all preferred. Inside my mind? I was imagining ten different ways to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. If only. "I guess even worthless mutts like yourself could have some brains in there somewhere," he sneered. His grip tightened once more before he shoved my face aside. "Our guests of honor will be here any minute." I collapsed forward onto the floor. For a brief moment, I allowed the anger to flash through my chest. Then I buried it. Deep. I stared at the wooden planks beneath me and forced myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Calm. Always calm. That was how you survived here. I slowly pushed myself back to my feet, gathered the overturned bucket, and dipped the rag back into the remaining soapy water. Better to finish quickly. Then I could disappear back to my room before the ceremony began. Because the last thing that I wanted... was to be anywhere near Rowan Steele when he returned. And judging by the way my wolf trembled beneath my skin... she agreed. II 2 Rowan I sat in the back seat of the car, staring out the window as the driver sped us along the winding coastal highway. Six years. Six years since I had last seen the cliffs along the beach of Coral Fang territory. Six years since I had walked the halls of the packhouse that loomed somewhere ahead of us beyond the trees. And yet... nothing had changed. The land stretched endlessly along the coastline, wild and beautiful in the way only untamed places could be. Dense forests climbed the rocky hillsides, their pine branches swaying beneath the salty ocean winds. The sea crashed violently against the cliffs below, waves slamming into jagged stone and sand before retreating only to surge forward again. Relentless. Powerful. Ancient. My wolf stirred beneath my skin as the familiar scent of home drifted faintly through the cracked window. Salt. Sand. Pine. Wolf. Territory. Home. The word settled uneasily in my chest. The land looked exactly the same as it had when I left. The same paths I ran on four paws. The same trees I had marked and played under. The same sand I rolled in. The same rocks I climbed time after time. As if time had frozen here, patiently waiting for something or someone to return and set it in motion again. Beside me, Cade was talking animatedly with the driver about the celebration our parents had apparently spent weeks planning. I only half listened. The last thing I wanted right now was a celebration. I wanted to stretch my legs and run on my paws through the territory again. I wanted to become one with the land and get to know the pack as the wolf I am now. I had no interest in lavish welcomes, drunken dancing, or watching half the eligible she-wolves in the territory parade themselves around in hopes of catching my attention. But that was exactly what tonight would become. A spectacle. A political display. My parents had made that painfully clear in every letter they sent me during my years away. My return. My ascension. My future Luna. They all contained the same things. I scoffed quietly. My wolf rumbled beneath my skin in agreement. They wanted me to find my mate. Soon. Preferable before I formally took the alpha title from my father. Fated pairs were stronger, they said. The bond between them created stability within the pack. Strength and loyalty. Balance. Your fated mate was your perfect match. I didn't disagree. But what they didn't say out loud, what they never plainly wrote in those carefully worded letters, was what would happen if I didn't find her in a timely manner. If my mate didn't appear. Then I would be required to take a chosen Luna. Not one I selected. No. One chosen for me. By them. By the council. By whatever political alliances my parents deemed useful. The thought made my jaw tighten. I felt Cade's eyes on me. "What's with you?" He asked me, leaning closer. "You've been brooding since we left this morning." I ignored him, but he didn't care. He grinned and gripped my shoulder. Nudging me with a gentle shake. "Tonight's going to be amazing. Drinks. Music. Bonfires. Women everywhere. We're back, baby!" His excitement would have been contagious... if I were anyone else. Cade had always been like this. Loud. Confident. Charismatic. At least with our inner circle and me. He balanced me in ways few people ever could. Where I was controlled, Cade was explosive. Where I calculated, he charged forward. At least now, after training. It had been the opposite when we were younger. Perhaps that was because of how I yearned to rebel against the system. Which was exactly why he was my beta. I shrugged his arm off with a faint smirk. He watched me carefully. "Is it your parents?" he asked. I nodded. Cade knew. He had seen the tension between us for years. I hadn't exactly chosen to leave Coral Fang. I had been sent away. Voluntold, as Cade liked to say. My future had been decided before I ever had a say in it. Alpha training. Leadership Academy. Political education. Combat trials. My father would never have a weak heir so he did what he could to ensure that wasn't the case. Every step had been planned for me since the moment I was born. As if I were a weapon being forged instead of a person. I hated that feeling. Being controlled. Being manipulated. Being treated like a chess piece in someone else's game. And yet... I understood it. That was the burden of power. I had learned that lesson quickly at the academy. Emotion was weakness. Emotion created hesitation. And hesitation in a leader got people killed. Still... There had been a moment during my first year away that had changed the way I saw my father forever. He had come to visit. I hadn't seen him in nearly a year. When I walked into the training arena that day, something shifted. I had grown. Not just physically, though I had surpassed him in height and build by then. Something deeper had changed. My wolf had matured. Strengthened. And when our eyes met across that arena... his wolf reacted. Not with price. Not with approval. With caution. With submission. I hadn't even released my dominance, but his wolf still felt it. And at that moment, I realized something that had chilled me to the bone. A threatened alpha was a dangerous alpha. A cornered alpha was worse. He would do what he could to keep himself in power for as long as possible. The visits never happened again after that. "It'll be fine," Cade said, breaking the silence and clearing my thoughts. His voice had softened. He knew exactly where my mind had gone. "I've got your back. You know that." I nodded once. Cade had always been there. My best friend for as long as I could remember. Even when we were reckless teenagers causing chaos and havoc throughout the packhouse halls. Even during the academy trials that nearly broke half of the class. He had been beside me every step of the way. That loyalty meant more to me than most people realized. "Not much has changed," I murmured, glancing back out the window. The cliffs rose higher as we climbed the final stretch of road towards the packhouse. Below us, waves slammed in against the jagged shoreline in an endless rhythm. The ocean never stopped fighting the land. Never stopped reshaping it. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I sighed. I already knew who it would be. Heather. I pulled the phone out and glanced at the screen. Heather: I can't wait to see you, baby! It's been too long! I rubbed a hand over my face. I had broken things off with Heather the week before I left for the academy. She hadn't accepted it. Not even slightly. Throwing tantrum after tantrum. She showed up at my room in the packhouse every day for a week straight. The night before I left... I had made the mistake of answering the door. I had been drunk. She had been persistent. And apparently the phrase of "just sεx" meant something very different to her. To Heather, it meant we were together again. Even though I hadn't spoken to her once in six years. Not a single response. Yet she still messaged me and sent me letters every single day. She was relentless. I considered throwing my phone out the window. Unfortunately, that would be irresponsible. My phone contained far too much sensitive information for that kind of impulsive stupidity. So instead, I locked the screen and shoved it back into my pocket. The car slowed. Cade leaned forward in his seat. "Home sweet home," he muttered. The packhouse came into view. Even after six years... the sight of it stole the breath from my lungs. The massive stone structures rose from the cliffside like a fortress carved from the bones of the earth itself. Three towering levels of gray stone and dark timber beams stretched across the edges of the land. Arched windows reflected the ocean beyond while ancient wolf carvings lined the outer walls. Generations of Coral Fang alphas had ruled from those halls. And soon... I would too. A crowd had gathered across the front lawn. Pack members. Elders. Warriors. Families. Pups darted between adults' legs, laughing as their parents tried, unsuccessfully, to keep them still. I found myself smiling despite everything. Pups were the heart of any pack. The future. The ones we fought to protect. My gaze shifted. My mother stood near the front of the crowd, her posture rigid as she glared at the children running too close to her carefully arranged decorations. I suppressed a sigh. Most Lunas ruled with warmth. With patience. With quiet authority. My mother ruled with perfection. And cruelty. She hadn't always been like that. But years of my father's infidelity and abuse had carved something bitter into her heart. Their bond had never healed. And I had spent my entire childhood watching the damage that was caused. Which was exactly why the idea of finding my own mate terrified me. What if I became like him? What if I destroyed someone the way he had destroyed her? The car came to a stop. Cade jumped out immediately. The crowd erupted into cheers. "Welcome home!" "Our future alpha!" "Rowan! Rowan! Cade! Rowan!" I stepped out of the car slowly. Power rolled off of me instinctively. Not intentional. Just natural. Conversations quieted. Heads bowed. Wolves lowered their eyes. I approached my parents. My father stepped forward first. His gaze met mine. Held it. A silent challenge. Then he extended his hand. "Welcome home, son." I took his hand. His grip was strong. But not stronger than mine. "I'm proud of you." My mother stepped forward immediately after. "Oh, my boy!" She cooed loudly. "Mother," I said evenly. She hugged me. I returned it stiffly. "It's good to be back." "Rowan!" I closed my eyes briefly. Heather. Of course. She stood beside my mother in a tight red dress. Her blond hair perfectly styled. She smiled at me like nothing had changed. Like nearly a decade hadn't passed. Like we were still teenagers sneaking around the packhouse. I let a sliver of dominance slip free. It rolled across the lawn like thunder. Heather's smile faltered. Her head bowed instinctively. "Heather." She swallowed. "I've missed you so much, baby." My mother clapped her hands sharply. "Enough talking! Come inside. Everything is prepared for your arrival!" I glanced once more at the towering packhouse doors. My family crest carved into the front of the wood. Then I stepped forward. Ready to survive the longest night of my life. III 3 Liz My stomach growled with an intensity I was all too familiar with. I had been resigned — more like confined — to my room for the rest of the evening after completing my chores. The party was in full swing below, and I was not allowed to show my face. Not to participate. Not to eat. Not to dance. Not even to walk to the bathroom. The consequences if I were caught would be severe. I wondered how creative Luna Faye would be with it tonight. Would she beat me? Probably. Would she add additional tasks to my already overflowing list of chores? That was a given. Would she take away my meals for however long she wished? Who knew... would she bind me to the stockades in the courtyard for all to see? That one seemed particularly appealing to her. We rarely had prisoners here. Occasionally, a rogue who had cared to cross into the territory without permission, or a vampire foolish enough to attack and get captured. But those were always kept in the cells beneath the packhouse. The stockades were reserved for something else entirely. A more... humiliating form of punishment. Punishment reserved for pack members to ensure they learn their lesson and their place. I curled my knees up to my chest and clenched my jaw to stave off the growing hunger gnawing at my insides. I hadn't been allowed to grab food before being ordered to my room earlier that evening. I usually kept dinner rolls or small pieces of bread that I had stashed in my apron earlier in the day for moments like this. But those had long since been devoured. They had been partying for hours now. The sun had set so long ago that I was certain it was late enough to be considered morning. The clock in my room had stopped working a few days ago, leaving me with no real sense of time anymore. I turned the page in my book, hoping to get lost in the fantasy world of a prince and princess. I had read this story so many times that parts of it were nearly memorized. But it was one of the only possessions I had been allowed to keep. In the story, the prince adored the princess. Protected her. Cherished her. I wished for that kind of love. The devotion they showed each other made my chest ache with envy. Yet... I couldn't stop reading it. My stomach growled again. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. Surely, I could be quiet enough. I was fast. I have learned how to move silently over the years. How to make myself small, unseen, forgettable. I could sneak down to the kitchens and grab something — anything — and make a quick escape before anyone noticed. Before common sense could stop me, I slammed my book closed. Hunger had won. My thin nightgown slid down my thighs as I stood, and I tugged the hem back into place. I glanced at my reflection in the broken floor-length mirror against the wall. I had no curve that was desirable. My clothes were tattered and ripped. My hair was long brown and wavy. My eyes, a usual pale shade of green, were dull and lifeless. My freckles stood out in a wild pattern on my face of milky skin. I stared at my reflection, barely even recognizing myself. I hated it. The mirror had once belonged to Gloria. She used it when she sewed costumes and gowns for the pack. Now it showed a thin girl with tangled wavy hair and pale green eyes that looked far too tired for someone my age. Too run down. I eyed my appearance again and sighed when my eyes glanced at my feet. Barefoot it is. Slowly, carefully, I cracked my door open and peeked into the hallway. I called on my wolf and took several deep breaths through my nose. Scenting. Listening. The corridor remained empty. When I detected nothing unusual, I opened the door wider and slipped outside. The scents hit me immediately. Roasted meat. Fresh bread. Sweets dripping with sugar and fruit. My stomach clenched painfully. I pressed a fist against it, hoping it wouldn't betray me with another loud growl. The party below was alive with noise. Werewolves were loud and rambunctious even on a normal day. Add in alcohol to the mix and the entire pack turned into a chaotic storm of laughter, shouting, and music. I moved quickly down the familiar paths of the packhouse. I knew these hallways so well I could walk them with my eyes closed. Every creak in the floor made me freeze. Every distant voice made my heart pound. Invisible. That was the goal. When I finally reached the kitchen, relief flooded through me. Finding it empty and devoid of people, I stepped inside. Several trays of food had already been discarded on the counter. I swiped a plate and began stacking it quickly with slices of roasted meat still glistening with juices, soft rolls warm against my fingers, and a handful of berries, and a few pieces of fruit. My gaze landed on a half-eaten slice of cake. I stared at it for a long moment. I hated scraps. Hated eating the leftovers someone else had abandoned. Hated being so unwanted in a pack that refused to let me leave, yet treated me like something less than human. It was partly why my frame was so thin. Why I was weaker than everyone else. Why I was always hungry. Deciding that tonight, I didn't care, I placed the half-eaten slice of cake on my place. Then I ran. I slipped out the back door into the gardens. The night air wrapped around me as I wove along the paths. Bushes of roses and flowering plants surrounded the stone walkways, their fragrances drifting softly on the breeze. The gardens were beautiful, almost painfully so. I clutched my plate closer to my chest as I pushed through the final row of shrubs and reached the cliff's edge. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond it. A narrow stone path carved into the cliffs wound down toward the beach below. Hardly anyone comes down here anymore. But I did. Often. This place was where I came to think. To breathe. To pretend I belonged somewhere. My bare feet moved easily over the rock and sand as I trotted down the winding path. The waves grew louder the closer I got, crashing rhythmically against the shore. A smile spread across my face — rare and fragile. The wind tugged at my hair, carrying the salty scent of the sea. As much as this pack despised me... as much as I hated living here... the land itself felt like home. Not the people. Never the people. But the water. The sand. The cliffs. Like I was meant to be here. Nature welcomed me in ways the pack never had. I dug my toes into the cool sand and climbed onto a high rock overlooking the ocean. Then I began to eat. The meat was tender and rich, bursting with flavor. A soft moan escaped me before I could stop it. They had spared no expense for tonight's celebration. No detail was overlooked. No luxury denied. Not when it came to Roan Steele's return. The entire pack had waited years for him to come home. My wolf whimpered softly inside of me. We wanted to be loved like that. We wanted a home. To be celebrated. To be cherished. Werewolves weren't meant to be solitary creatures. And yet I had spent most of my life feeling completely and utterly alone. My watery gaze drifted out across the ocean as my thoughts wandered. Somewhere out there... my mate existed. I had a family out there. I knew it. There had to be someone meant for me. Someone who would love me. Someone who would see me. I imagined what he might be like. Tall, strong, handsome, kind. He would laugh easily and smile often. He would spin me around in the kitchen while dinner cooked. He would tuck flowers into my hair and listen patiently while I rambled on about the latest fantasy novel I had read. A soft smile ghosted my lips. He would hold me. Protect me. Love me... at least... I hoped so. I continued nibbling at my food, savoring every bite, prolonging the moment before I had to return to my room. The punishment waiting for me would be worth it. The quiet. The air. The freedom. Then suddenly... I froze. A strange charge prickled across the back of my neck. I glanced toward the sky. Clear. No clouds. No storm. Yet the feeling remained. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin. Someone was watching me. The pressure rolling through the air was unmistakeable. Dominant and powerful. Heavy. It pressed down on my instincts, urging submission. But it didn't feel malicious. Or angry. It felt... curious. Without moving too much, I tried to glance over my shoulder. Nothing. No movement. No scent. No sound. Still, the feeling didn't disappear. Deciding not to tempt fate any longer, I stood and cast one last lingering look towards the ocean. Then my gaze shifted to the alcove carved into the cliffs nearby. The place where I had been found as a baby. So many emotions surfaced whenever I looked at that spot. Loneliness. Hope. Questions that had never been answered. When I was thirteen, I had carved my initials into the stone there. Proof that I had existed. That someone had been there. That I had mattered... at least a little. My throat tightened. I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to cry. No. I would not cry. I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders and ran. Up the stone path. Across the gardens. Back toward the packhouse. The feeling of those unseen eyes followed me the entire way. Curiosity turned to irritation. Then something colder. Indifference. Whoever it was clearly couldn't identify how they felt about what they had seen. I slipped through the side door used by the omegas during chores and rushed down the hallways toward my room. My heart pounded wildly in my chest. Only when I slammed my door shut behind me did the pressure finally lift. I collapsed against the wood, breathing hard. Relief flooded through me. But even then... I could have sworn the faint scent of cedar and storm air lingered in the room. IV 4 Rowan I needed a moment to just breathe. Being inside that packhouse made everything feel suffocating. The walls pressed in around me as if they were alive, thick with perfume, wine, and the overwhelming scent of too many wolves gathered in one place. Every thought was too loud, forming a static in my mind that had me overstimulated. The celebration behind me roared on like a living thing. Music spilled through the open doors of the ballroom while laughter echoed across the polished marble floors. Crystal glasses clinked together in endless toasts as servants moved through the crowd carrying trays of roasted meats and expensive wines imported from human cities miles away. My father and mother loved displays like this. Tonight's party was not truly about welcoming me home from the academy. It was a performance. A declaration of power and wealth. Every neighboring pack leader within traveling distance had been invited so they could witness firsthand just how wealthy and influential our pack had become. How strong I had become. Every pack had come. All but one. The Blood Moon Pack. They never attended events like this. Too focused on their missing heir, strengthening their borders from within. Our treaty with them was thin and fragile and part of me found myself glad they hadn't been in attendance tonight. The daughters of allied families had circled me all evening like vultures around fresh meat. Women from our pack watched me with the hopes that I would dance with them. Silks brushed against my arms. Sweet voices whispered invitations disguised as compliments. Perfume thick enough to choke a man filled the air as they laughed too loudly at jokes that weren't funny. Each one of them hoped to attract the attention of the future alpha. Each one hoping to secure their place as Luna. I had endured it as long as I could. But now... I needed air. I pushed open the balcony doors and stepped outside, inhaling deeply as the cool ocean breeze rushed across my skin. The tension that had been coiling tighter in my chest finally loosened just a fraction. I hadn't felt this suffocated once during my six years at the academy. I missed the structure there. I missed the brutal honesty of it all. At the academy there were no hidden meanings behind polite smiles. No whispered negotiations disguised as casual conversation. No women paraded in front of you like prizes waiting to be claimed. There was politics, yes, but nothing as sinister as what was happening tonight. There was only strength. Strength earned through discipline. Strength proven through combat and mental aptitude. Every Alpha heir who trained there knew the rules. You fought for what you wanted. You bled for it. And if you won, no one could question that victory. Politics existed there too, but it was honest politics. Strategy between equals. Not this... performance. Here tonight... everything felt false. Masks layered over masks. Smiles that meant nothing. I could feel my wolf pacing beneath my skin, restless and irritated by the deception surrounding us. The longer I stayed in that ballroom, the stronger the urge became to bare my teeth and remind everyone exactly what kind of predator I was. I gripped the railing so hard that my knuckles turned pale. No one inside noticed. Or if they had, they didn't care. Cade had disappeared hours ago with one of the visiting pack daughters. He was probably drunk and tangled in the silk sheets somewhere by now. My father was entertaining one of his many mistresses, laughing loudly as if he were still a young wolf instead of a leader responsible for thousands of lives. A mated leader. And my mother... my lips curled slightly. My mother had spent the entire evening pushing Heather toward me like she was presenting the most obvious solution in the world. As if I would willingly bind myself to that manipulative snake. Even standing near Heather made my wolf recoil. He hated her. And my wolf's instincts were rarely wrong. I stepped farther onto the balcony overlooking the sea. The territory stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight. Jagged cliffs fell away into dark waves crashing against the rocks below while the scent of salt carried on the wind. This land was ancient. My ancestors had claimed these cliffs centuries ago when the first alpha of our bloodline drove rival packs out of the region and established our borders. Generations of wolves had been born, fought, and died protecting this coastline. And someday it will be mine to lead. The thought settled heavy in my chest. I loved my pack. Truly. I would burn the world to ash before allowing harm to come to them. But they had been led astray. My father ruled through fear. Fear kept wolves obedient. Fear kept challengers silent. Fear kept the pack firmly beneath his heel. But fear was not loyalty. And a pack that feared its alpha pair would never truly thrive. At the academy, we studied the histories of the strongest packs that had endured for centuries. Those packs were not built on terror. They were built on respect. Respect was earned through strength. Through fairness. Through protecting your people instead of exploiting them. Kind of like the Blood Moon Pack.... That was the kind of alpha I intended to become. But I wasn't alpha yet. For now, I had to play the game. I had to smile when expected. Nod politely during negotiations. Pretend I didn't see the corruption slowly rotting away at the foundations of my father's rule. I would watch. I would learn. And when the day finally came... I would be ready. My fingers ghosted across the soft petals of the roses lining the balcony. They were beautiful. Beautiful things could still wound. Roses proved that. They looked delicate enough to crush between your fingers, but their thorns would slice open careless hands without hesitation. Beauty and pain. Two sides of the same blade. I turned away from the balcony doors and descended the stairs leading into the gardens. Gravel crunched beneath my boots as I walked deeper into the moonlit paths, leaving the noise of the party behind. The gardens stretched across the edge of the cliffs like a carefully sculpted wilderness. Ancient stone pathways wound through hedges and flowering bushes planted generations ago. My grandmother had designed most of them before she died. She had believed beauty should exist even in places truly ruled by predators. I walked until the scent of the ocean grew stronger, and the crashing waves echoed clearly against the rocks below. Eventually, the garden opened to the cliff's edge. I sank down onto the ground, letting my legs drape over the rock ledge. The drop was enough to kill a human instantly. But I felt no fear. The wind rushed past me while the moon illuminated the endless stretch of dark water beyond our territory. My wolf relaxed instantly. He loved the open land. Loved the freedom of the wild beyond the stone walls and political games. Out here I could pretend I wasn't the future alpha. Almost pretend I was just another wolf beneath the moon. I grabbed a small rock beside me and turned it over and over slowly in my hand before tossing it over the edge. It disappeared into the darkness below. Gone. Swallowed by the sea. Was that all we were in the grand design of fate? Rocks thrown into the world wherever destiny decided we belonged? The thought lingered in my mind only briefly before my wolf stiffened. A rustle came from behind me. Someone had followed me. My lips pulled back in a snarl, a warning growl rising in my chest before my wolf suddenly went still. Alert. Curious. Interested. I inhaled deeply. Lavender. The scent hit me like lightening striking directly through my spine. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head as instinct surged forward. A low purr vibrating through my chest before I could stop it. A small figure burst from the garden. She moved quickly, gracefully despite her obvious haste. I couldn't see her face yet — only long brown hair that cascaded down her back in loose waves. My fingers twitched with the strange urge to run them through it. Was it as soft as it looked? She carried a plate of food clutched carefully in both hands as she hurried toward the stone stairway carved into the side of the cliff. The stairs had been built centuries ago by pack members who preferred the quiet solitude of the beach below. She moved down them quickly, barefoot and sure-footed. I frowned. Everyone in the pack was supposed to be attending tonight's celebration. Yet, she wore a thin nightgown that barely reached her knees. The fabric was worn and slightly tattered. Nothing like the elaborate ballgowns filling the room upstairs. Whoever she was, she clearly hadn't been invited to the party. She reached the beach and stepped onto the sand. From my position high above, I watched as she tilted her face toward the moon. Her shoulders sagged slightly. Relief. I recognized it instantly. I felt it too everytime I escaped the suffocating politics of the packhouse. She climbed onto one of the large rocks scattered along the shoreline and sat down carefully. The wind shifted. Moonlight revealed even more than I expected. My brows furrowed. She was thin. Too thin. Even from this distance I could see the sharp angles of her shoulders and the faint discoloration of bruises along her arms. My wolf snarled in anger. 'Why hadn't her wolf healed those injuries? What had happened to her?' She began nibbling cautiously at the food on her plate. Not devouring it. Not eating with the hunger of a wolf who had just finished a run. Just... nibbling. It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough for a werewolf. Not even enough for a growing pup. My eyes narrowed as questions began piling up in my mind. She stiffened suddenly. Her instincts sensed something. Her head turned slightly as she scanned the cliffs above her. She hadn't spotted me. But her body knew she was being watched. Good girl. Impressive. Then she turned her face just enough for the moonlight to reveal her face. The delicate curve of her nose. The softness of her lips. Her cheekbones. The freckles I could see even from here. The pale green of her eyes. And the world stopped. The bond snapped into place with a brutal force. Not gentle. Not subtle. Violent. Like chains locking around my soul. My wolf surged forward with a possessive snarl. 'Mine.' The word echoed through every corner of my mind. Suddenly I knew exactly who she was. Elizabeth Thorne. The orphan girl our pack had taken in years ago. A faint memory surfaced — a quiet child standing behind our older pack members, always watching but never speaking. I had been a teenager then, 19, preparing to leave for the academy. I had barely noticed her. Now fate had decided she was my mate. Anger exploded through my chest. I stood abruptly, glaring at the sky. This had to be a joke. Of all the women in the world.... of all the wolves fate could have chosen... this? My mate was a servant. Weak. Powerless. Titleless. The one woman my parents despised more than anyone else in the pack. I dragged my hands through my hair, pacing along the edge of the cliff. I could reject her. I should reject her. An alphas mate was not just a partner. A Luna was power. A Luna commanded respect. A Luna stood beside her alpha as the backbone of the pack. My pack would never accept Elizabeth Thorne as their Luna. I should end it now. Reject the bond before it grows stronger. But the thought alone made my stomach twist violently. My wolf snarled in warning at me. 'Rejecting her would destroy something deep inside both of us.' I forced myself to look back down at the beach. Elizabeth sat quietly on the rock, staring out at the waves. Did she feel it too? Did she know what had just happened? Or had fate decided to torture only me tonight? Questions filled my mind. What did I know about Elizabeth Thorne? Nothing. Only whispers and assumptions. I had never truly spoken to her. Never bothered to learn who she really was. Perhaps everything I believed about her was wrong. Or perhaps this was just another illusion, like the ballroom above us. I exhaled slowly. I wouldn't reject her. Not yet. I needed information first. I would watch her. Observe her the way I would any potential enemy. Study her strengths. Study her weaknesses. Learn everything there was to know about her before deciding our fate. And until then... No one would know. Not my father. Not my mother. Maybe Cade. But no one else. Because whether fate liked it or not... this game had just become more complicated. V 5 Liz I slept like sh1t. Not the kind of restless sleep that leaves you groggy. The kind that claws at you. That drags you under and then rips you back out just as quickly. Over and over again until your bones feel heavy, and your mind feels raw. My wolf hadn't settled once. She paced and scratched and pushed beneath my skin. 'Run,' it felt like she urged. 'Get out.' I couldn't. I never could. By the time I forced myself out of bed, every inch of me ached like I had been beaten in my sleep instead of resting. My reflection didn't help. My hair was a tangled mess, knots woven so tightly it felt like punishment just trying to pull my fingers through it. Dark purple shadows clung beneath my eyes. Too deep and too permanent. I looked worn. Used. Like exactly what I was. I exhaled sharply and rolled my eyes at myself before twisting my hair into a tight braid, and it pulled at my scalp, grounding me. Pain I could control. I put my shoes on and tied my apron. Mask of indifference firmly in place. Another day. The chill from the open window brushed against my skin. It was soft and fleeting. For a moment... just a moment... I let myself stand there and stare out. The horizon was painted in soft golds and pinks. The sun was just beginning to rise. It was beautiful. Painfully so. A life like that... open and endless, free.... it wasn't meant for me. My wolf stirred again, restless beneath my skin. 'Run,' she pressed harder this time. 'Shift. Feel the earth. Feel something real.' "Later," I whispered under my breath. A promise I barely kept. I could sense her growing frustration with me. We were two separate beings, yes, but we shared one soul. Tied together. I shut the window before I could linger too long in something that didn't belong to me and slipped out into the hallway. The packhouse was quiet but not peaceful. It never was. Even in silence, it felt... watchful. I moved carefully and instinctively. My steps were light, my shoulders tucked. My head was lowered just enough to be seen as respectful, but not enough to draw attention. Guards lingered in the halls patrolling and changing over for the new shift. I didn't look at them. I didn't need to. I felt it anyway. The sneers and the indifference. The quiet acknowledgment of exactly where I stood in the hierarchy. At the bottom. Always the bottom. The kitchen was already alive when I entered. Heat hit me first — thick and suffocating from the massive stone fireplace that burned constantly. The scent followed next. Fresh bread. Melted butter. Crisping bacon. It should have been comforting. Instead, it made my stomach twist painfully. I washed my hands and got to work without being told. I didn't need instructions. I was the extra task. The extra pair of hands. The one who picked up everything no one else wanted. Dishes, scrubbing, grease traps, burnt pans, long hours. Punishments disguised as responsibilities. Or maybe the other way around. The kitchen itself was beautiful. Like everything in this pack that I wasn't allowed to truly enjoy. Stone walls carved with age and history. Thick wooden countertops worn smooth from decades of use. It wasn't mine. None of it was. I cracked eggs into a bowl, the repetitive motion grounding me. Around me, other servants moved in a practiced rhythm. No one spoke much. No one needed to. We all knew the rules, and we all knew the consequences. It was better for me to stay busy anyway. If I stayed busy, I didn't think. And if I didn't think, I didn't hope. And hope... hope was dangerous. Hope made you forget your place. Hope makes you believe in things like love... and mates... and futures that didn't end in servitude. My wolf shifted uneasily at that thought. She didn't agree. She never did. The shift in the kitchen was immediate. Subtle but still sharp. My shoulders tensed before I even saw her. Luna Faye. She entered like she owned the air itself. Her pretense cut through the kitchen with cold precision. Conversations died instantly. Movements sharpened and everyone straightened. Including me. I kept my head down as she moved through the room, inspecting. Judging and searching. She stopped in front of my station. Of course, she did. Her lip curled before she even spoke. "This is less than satisfactory," she said. Her voice was smooth but laced with disdain. "I don't suppose a lesson needs to be taught, does it?" My fingers. Twisted tighter in the fabric of my apron. Every instinct in me screamed to bare my teeth. To snap. To defend myself. My wolf surged forward, a low warning growl vibrating in my chest. I crushed it down hard. "No, ma'am," I whispered instead. Submission and survival. The two went hand in hand here. Luna Faye's gaze lingered on me. Waiting and searching for the defiance I refused to give. For a moment, I thought — hoped — she would push. That she would give me a reason. Just one. My pulse spiked at the thought. But she didn't. She scoffed instead, disappointed and moved on. 'Coward,' a voice in my head hissed. 'Smart,' another corrected. "This looks wonderful," she praised moments later, standing beside the head chef. "Truly, Stuart. You outdo yourself every time." Of course. Of course, she would say that. I rolled my eyes. Stuart dipped his head respectfully, but his eyes flicked to mine over her shoulder. There was something there. Something quiet, almost apologetic. Then it was gone. Like it had never existed. "Elizabeth," he called once she left. "We need help serving. Alexandras at the infirmary. Take these to the dining hall." Of course, she was. Or maybe she wasn't. It didn't matter. It would fall to me either way. It always did. I wanted to say no. God, I wanted to. But wanting didn't mean anything around here. At least it didn't for me. So I nodded and moved. The cart was heavy, stacked high with trays of food that smelled far better than anything I would be allowed to eat. My stomach growled. I ignored it. The halls stretched long and wide, lit by sconces that cast flickering shadows across paintings that probably cost more than I would ever see in my life. Landscapes, portraits, stories that were frozen in time and captured on canvas for all to admire. None of them included people like me. I looked at them all as I walked. I stopped at the doors, my hand hovering over the handle. My chest tightened. My wolf surged forward again, but this time it wasn't just restlessness. It was a feeling of alertness. Sharp and awake in a way she hadn't been before. Something's off. Or maybe... something's coming. I swallowed hard and pushed the doors open with my back. The dining hall hit me all at once. Noise, movement, and heat. And scent. Gods, the scent. Dozens — no hundreds — of wolves all packed into one space. It pressed into me from all sides. It was overwhelming and suffocating. I fought the urge to gag, and then... something else. Something different. It cut through everything else. It was clean. Cedar. Stormy. The kind of scent that rolled in before thunder cracked open the sky. The scent of a rich and green forest. My wolf went completely still. Then focused and relaxed at once. There. I didn't look. I couldn't. Because I was suddenly very, very aware of the room. Of the eyes on me. Of the weight of my place here. I moved mechanically. I was efficient and tried to be as invisible as possible. That was the goal, always invisible. Plates, bread, meat, refills. In and out. Quick and quiet. Most of the wolves here ignored me. Some looked through me. A few sneered. None of them thanked me. My fingers tightened around the tray. Spoiled. Every single one of them. My wolf stirred again, less restless now... more calculating. As if she was observing through my own eyes. And then... that feeling. The one you can't explain. The one that crawls along your spine and settles between your shoulders. I was being watched. Not glanced at. Not dismissed. Watched intently. My skin prickled. My wolf leaned into it. She was curious and interested. This was new for us. My heart stuttered. I moved faster. I needed to get out. The leadership table loomed ahead. Tension rolled off of it in waves. I didn't look at him. I refused. I would not look at Rowan Steele. Not the future alpha. Not the man who would decide my fate, the rest of my life. Was I a coward? Maybe. But I didn't care. Luna Faye's disgust was immediate as I plated her food. Predictable. I expected it. Even though she had just praised Stuart for the very same food. I turned... too fast. Too careless. The cup of coffee tipped and time slowed. It spilled and a gasp echoed out. My heart stopped. I braced for the pain instantly. My body reacted before my mind could. My shoulders curled. My head ducked down, and my eyes squeezed shut. I was waiting and counting. One... two...three... nothing. No strike. No burn. No slap. No impact. Silence. It was thick and heavy. It felt wrong. A chair scraped, and a low growl cut through the room. Then... "It's fine." The voice was deep and rough with sleep. Powerful. It sounded commanding. It wrapped around me like a storm rolling in slow in inevitable. "It's just coffee. I've had worse." My breath hitched. No. No, no, no. I knew that voice. It was darker and deeper than I remembered, but it was unmistakable. I lifted my head slowly. Carefully. And everything... everything stopped. It was him. Rowan. The world narrowed to a single point. His eyes, ice blue, locked on mine. Then, it snapped. Not gently. Not softly. Violently. Like something ancient and unbreakable had been waiting. Just for a moment. A force slammed into my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. Heat surged through my veins, sharp and consuming. My wolf lunged forward with a sound that wasn't quite a growl but wasn't a whine. Only heard by me. 'Mine.' The word wasn't a thought. It was a certainty. A claim. A truth that settled deep into my bones whether I wanted it or not. My heart pounded erratically, my pulse roared in my ears. No. No, this wasn't... this couldn't... His scent wrapped around me fully now. Cedar. Storm and power. Home. The realization hit me like a blade to the chest. Of fking h-ll. My mate. My mate was him. Rowan fking Steele. The future alpha. The man who would own everything. The man whose family... despised me. He despised me. My stomach dropped. Cool dread flooded every inch of me, chasing out the warmth just as quickly as it had come. Every dream I had ever buried clawed its way to the surface, only to be ripped apart just as fast. Because this? This wasn't a blessing. This was cruel and twisted. A joke the universe was playing at my expense. My wolf didn't agree. She surged forward again, stronger this time. 'Ours.' "No," I whispered, only for her to hear. Denial. It was immediate and desperate. Because mates were supposed to mean something. Safety and love. Belonging and a future. This? This meant ruin. I took a step back. Then another before I turned and ran. My pulse wouldn't slow, and the ache in my chest wouldn't ease. And his eyes... they hadn't left me. Not once. fk... my... life.

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