Before the wedding that night, a maid tells me that Dante had fortified pack security, setting up ambushes and traps around the pack house.

Like that would keep him away. Crystal snorts "Crystal ." I growl under my breath.

We both know it won't.

Deep down, I know that even an army of soldiers can't keep Lucien away if he wants to get in. I fidget with my hairpin, looking out my window to the woods. It's a full moon, like the one I had met Lucien under.

 I hug myself.

I almost expect it when I see Lucien stroll into the hall, looking like he has not just gone past a whole army of guards. Werewolf warrior guards. Still, I can feel the blood in my face draining.

 He looks elegant in a black tailored three-piece suit and black handmade leather loafers. The perfect wedding guest, I think humorlessly.

He commands attention just by walking into the room. Immediately, noise fills the hall. Whispers and comments. 

Comments about the rogue who dared to attend the alpha's mating ceremony. Who dared to even return to the pack after being exiled?

Crystal was right. The mating ceremony had not even begun. He hadn't needed that much time to incapacitate more than thirty mature warriors. And he still looks like he has just stepped out of a Vogue magazine.

Beside me, Dante stiffens, his fists balling up.

"What are you doing here, Blackthorn?" He asks, gritting his teeth.

Lucien begins an almost leisurely walk to the place where we both stood, obviously unbothered by the threat of a fight. "Is that how you welcome a guest?" He asks.

"Leave now," Dante commands him. "While I still feel generous enough to spare your life."

Lucien gives a lopsided grin. 

"You're not really this delusional, are you? What makes you think you can kill me?"

A guard begins to advance behind Lucien's back.

"Tell your man off so I don't have to pin him to the wall," Lucien says dryly. "It's an unnecessary waste of energy."

Dante nods to the guard and he steps away.

"What did you do with all the guards?" Dante asks, holding Lucien's gaze.

Lucien shrugs nonchalantly. "That is anyone's guess."

"So you decide to show your face once again after murdering my wife," Dante says, stepping toward him.

"After being framed for her murder, yes," Lucien says. 

"I have come to challenge you for the leadership of the clan."

For a moment, the hall goes silent. So silent I can hear the crickets chirping. 

I am also silent. Stunned into silence. Challenging Dante to a duel could only lead to one dead body and another as an alpha.

Dante looks at Lucien and I can almost see the calculating nature of his gaze.

 He was trying to size Lucien up and determine his level of strength. Know how much he has improved over the years. Dante didn't want to risk embarrassment and death.

"That is a bit too ambitious of you." Dante sneered. "Warrior turned murderer. 

You think you can just walk in here and demand a challenge?"

"Yes," Lucien replies, taking off the gold timepiece on his wrist and letting it fall to the ground with a loud thud. 

"Because I know you're too weak, too cuddled. Everyone has lost whatever trust they once had in you because they recognize you for what you are."

I can see Dante's will beginning to break at Lucien's words. The veins on his neck stand out angrily and his breath becomes shallower. He shook with anger.

 I could see where this was going, and it was not in Dante's favor. He was getting blinded by his anger, but Lucien was still calm and rational, shedding his suit jacket negligently.

"Weak, impulsive, and unfit."

Dante roars, the hair on his face thickening to fur and his eyes flashing.

"Dante!" I call, grabbing his arm and trying to stop him before he can shift completely and accept the challenge. He looks at me and sneers, flinging his arm back and sending me crashing into the opposite wall. 

I hear Lucien's growl as I straighten, a bit dizzy.

By the time I'm conscious enough to look, they have both shifted to their wolves, Lucien's black and Dante's white. 

They circle each other in readiness to fight.

They attack each other in mid-air, clawing and lunging at each other. What had been my wedding had been turned into a conquest.

Everyone stands back, watching with bated breath as they fight, tables and chairs and décor crashing around them. It is fierce and wild, lasting for what could have been an hour but feels like an eternity. 

It is painfully obvious who had better skill, however, Lucien seems to toy with Dante as one would an opponent he knew he had every chance of beating.

I know that is a high probability.

I look around and realize that nobody is fooled or harbors any illusions about this. They don't expect Dante to emerge victorious.

I wince when Lucien claws Dante's wolf to the floor, advancing on the already weak figure. I can see the motion of Dante breathing and I hold my breath, hoping Lucien doesn't deliver the final blow. It is a fight to the death.

Lucien's wolf turns and stares me straight in the eyes. I take a step back, swallowing. 

He seems to smirk at me before turning back to Dante's form on the floor. With his jaw, he picks Dante up by the neck and slams him back down to the floor with a loud thud.

 I shudder, bile forcing itself to my throat and threatening to bring up all the whiskey I had earlier today.

He picks him up again and slams him down with the same sadistic thud.

"End it, already!" I scream, surprising not just myself but everyone in attendance. Lucien does not turn towards me this time but he stiffens. 

"You're going to kill him, right? Do it and let it all be over!"

With a growl, Lucien attacks Dante's wolf once again but this time, he sinks his teeth into Dante's wolf's neck, crushing down slowly and jerking back in one swift motion, pulling Dante's throat out.

 I close my eyes against the gory sight of blood splattered against the floors and walls and Lucien's wolf holding Dante's throat between his teeth.

Softly, menacingly, I hear it clear in my head. Run.

Corrigan’s pov

With a final, calculated attack, Lucien clawed Dante's wolf and sank his teeth into the vulnerable neck. The room fell silent as the gruesome end unfolded. I turned away, unwilling to witness the brutality.

When I dared to look back, Lucien's wolf stood victorious, Dante's throat clenched between his jaws. The sight was a chilling testament to Lucien's dominance and power.

Lucien's wolf met my gaze once more, his eyes a vivid reminder of the bond that still existed between us. He turned away from the motionless body of Dante's wolf, dropping it to the floor. The room remained in stunned silence, the full magnitude of what had just occurred sinking in.

The tension in the room shifted, and I felt a mix of fear and uncertainty. With Dante's demise, there would be a shift in the pack's leadership, and Lucien would undoubtedly be the new alpha. The implications of this shift were profound and far-reaching.

Lucien let his icy gaze sweep over the pack, his expression impassive as he surveyed the room. There was no triumph or gloating in his demeanor, only an air of authority and inevitability. The pack had witnessed the transition of power, and there was no denying the legitimacy of his claim.

"You... You killed Dante," a she-wolf muttered in the room, voicing what we were all thinking.

Lucien nodded solemnly, his voice dripping with frost. "Dante challenged me for leadership. He failed."

The room remained tense, with the pack members uncertain about their future under a new alpha. Lucien's dominance and strength were undeniable, but the path ahead was fraught with his chilling aura.

The murmurs in the room grew louder, and questions and concerns began to surface among the pack members.

"Will the pack change under your rule?"

"Are there going to be new rules or traditions?"

Lucien's gaze hardened as he locked eyes with each questioner. His response was cold and fierce. "This is still your pack, but it's under new leadership now. There will be changes, and you will adapt."

One wolf dared to challenge further, "What about the human alliances Dante had established? Will they remain intact?"

Lucien's eyes flashed with impatience. "I will honor those alliances as long as they serve our interests, if they don’t, I will trash them! And do not question my decisions."

His tone grew more severe as he addressed the entire pack, his alpha authority undeniable. "Do not mistake my willingness to listen for weakness. I expect loyalty, unity, and respect. The division ends now, or you will find yourself outside the pack."

A hushed silence fell over the room, and one by one, the pack members bowed their heads, acknowledging his brutal authority. Lucien had asserted his dominance without resorting to violence, and the pack understood that this new chapter was beginning, with Lucien as its ruthless alpha.

The old era under Dante's reign had come to a decisive end, and the pack's future was now firmly in the icy grip of Lucien's ruthless rule.

*****

The night of our mating ceremony, which had started as a wedding, had become something entirely unexpected. It was a night of change, power shifting, and a new beginning.

My wolf screamed again…

“Run!”

My heart raced in tandem with the pounding of their paws, a cacophony of roars and growls reverberating through the onlooking crowd. I knew I had to get away.

Run! Run! Run!

My wolf's urgent whispers guided me through the turmoil, her voice an instinctual compass leading me to safety. And with every breath I took, I prayed I would escape the unfolding nightmare unscathed.

As I sprinted away from the chaos of the mating ceremony, my breath came in ragged gasps, and the world around me blurred into a chaotic frenzy of movement and shadows. My wolf, Crystal, pushed me forward, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the madness.

The forest loomed ahead, a sanctuary beckoning in its darkened embrace. With each step, I found myself deeper in the woods, and the scent of nature's damp earth and vibrant life filled my nostrils, replacing the acrid stench of the recent violence. It was directionless, and I had no plan, but all I knew was that I needed to get away from the pack, from Dante, from the nightmare that had unfolded before me.

Run, run, run! Crystal's urgent whispers echoed in my mind, her voice an instinctual compass guiding me through the turmoil. Her words were an unrelenting reminder of the danger that pursued me. My heart raced in tandem with the pounding of my paws as I hurtled through the underbrush, my surroundings a blur of color and sound.

But where was I heading? Was I destined to become a rogue? Is this karma for my past decisions? These thoughts churned in my mind as I ran. I felt weak, my wolf wincing in pain within me. The primal instincts that normally guided us were faltering under the weight of confusion and fear.

"Run!" My wolf screamed again, a note of urgency that cut through my doubts. She must have noticed something I didn't, sensed a danger that lurked. I obeyed, pouring every ounce of energy into escaping the unknown threat.

But my instincts had misled me. I ran headlong into a hidden danger, and as I sprinted, the world around me abruptly darkened. Before I could react, a searing pain at the back of my head struck like a lightning bolt, and my vision dissolved into inky blackness.

I fell to the forest floor, disoriented and dazed. A throbbing agony radiated from the point of impact, and my senses were muddled. I could hear voices, faint and distant, as though they were on the other side of a thick veil.

"Who is she?" a voice asked.

"She's from Dante's pack. Look, the mark on her arm, they all have it. “Found her unconscious in the woods," another replied.

A strange sense of relief washed over me. I wasn't alone in this dark and unfamiliar place. But why were they helping me? What had happened to Dante? Or were they Dante’s me? So many questions swirled in my mind as I teetered on the edge of consciousness.

I felt myself being lifted, carried, and placed on something soft. The pain at the back of my head remained sharp, but it began to ebb as a cool sensation washed over my body. Despite the confusion and fear, I couldn't help but wonder who my unexpected saviors were and what their intentions might be.

Soon, I blacked out…

Corrigan's pov

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," a voice whispered as my eyes fluttered open. My head throbbed, and my vision was still blurry. "You slept for way too long."

I tried to raise my head, but the voice gently urged me to stay put. It belonged to an old woman with wrinkles etched deeply into her skin, each line telling tales of the years she had lived.

"Who are you?" I managed to croak, my voice barely audible.

The old woman chuckled softly. "I'm the healer of these woods, child. The one who tends to lose souls like yours."

My head was pounding with questions, but she gently hushed me. "Rest now. We'll talk soon."

As she shuffled away, I tried to focus on my surroundings. The small, dimly lit hut was filled with dried herbs, hanging from the ceiling, and strange-looking potions lining the wooden shelves. A strong aroma of various herbs and spices filled the air.

"Danger" my wolf kept saying

"But she looks harmless"

"Danger"

"Stop talking and let me think, I have a lot on my mind, I would go crazy if you spoke again."

She didn't say a word again, I could feel her retreat.

My mind raced back to the events of the previous day. Dante's face, lifeless and still, haunted me. He had been a pain, but I never wanted him dead. I realized that maybe, deep down, I had loved him.

The old woman returned with a bowl of hot soup. "You're lucky to be alive," she said, her voice soothing. "You were found in the middle of the forest, wounded. You had hit your head on a rock, and you lost a lot of blood."

She handed me the bowl, and I took a cautious sip. The warmth spread through my body, and I suddenly became aware of how cold it was in the hut.

"Where am I?" I asked once more, my voice steadier.

The old healer smiled kindly. "You're in my humble abode, deep within the forest. You were brought here by some good samaritans who found you. They told me they discovered you wounded in the woods. They brought you here as quickly as they could."

The mention of the good samaritans brought back hazy memories of their voices, talking and comforting me as I faded into unconsciousness.

My thoughts drifted back to Dante, to the night he took his last breath. His lifeless body appeared before my eyes, an image I couldn't bear.

The old healer watched me closely, her eyes filled with a knowing wisdom. She sensed my turmoil. I was beginning to realize there was something peculiar about this woman, something beyond her age.

In the corner of the room, I noticed an ancient-looking wolf pelt hanging on the wall, its glassy eyes seemingly watching over the hut. This wolf pelt seemed to be more than just decoration, and it made me wonder about the healer's connection to the supernatural world.

As the warm broth filled my belly, my strength slowly returned. The old woman's presence was reassuring, and I felt like I was in the presence of a wise sage. There was more to this hut and this healer than met the eye, and I couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden beneath the surface.

******

Corrigan's pov

The hours passed by, and I found myself in a state of restless reprieve. The old healer's constant coming and going had me baffled, her interactions with the villagers deepening my intrigue. Each visitor would be greeted with an aura of serenity, her wisdom marking her as someone extraordinary.

She would pause between tending to herbs, casting a knowing gaze in my direction. "You are beautiful," she would remark with a warm smile, to which I could only offer a courteous "Thank you."

Amid the bustling atmosphere, my attention was abruptly drawn to a haunting sight on the wall – a cross-shaped bag that uncannily mirrored the one Lucien often bore in his wolf form. It was an unsettling omen that sent shivers down my spine, and it did not escape Crystal, my vigilant wolf. She sensed an imminent threat, her unease intensifying as she strove to communicate with me through relentless whispers in my mind.

"Corrigan, danger. This place, something's not right. We must run!"

But I, resolute and dismissive, maintained my unwarranted assurance.

"Calm yourself, Crystal. There's no need for panic. We're safe here. The old healer means no harm."

Crystal's warnings persisted, her fear palpable in her words.

"No, you must listen. It's dangerous. That bag – it's a sign. We're in peril. Please, let's go."

Yet, my stubbornness refused to yield to her pleas.

"I appreciate your concern, Crystal, but we need to trust the old healer. She's offered us refuge."

Crystal's voice faded into silence, overpowered by my determination. In doing so, I unwittingly silenced my only ally against the encroaching darkness that awaited us.

*****

As the golden hues of evening cast their warm embrace on the forest, the old healer who had refused to reveal her name started moving about, placing things in order. I kept watching her for a while until she turned towards me.

"My dear," the old healer called me, her eyes gleaming with a glint of amusement as she began gathering herbs and arranging her primitive tools. "Would you lend an old woman a hand in clearing away the remnants of the day?"

I hesitated, my instincts divided between the inescapable curiosity that burned within me and the disquieting sense that something extraordinary, perhaps even dangerous, was afoot. However, her smile, filled with ancient wisdom, convinced me to assist her.

"Of course," I replied, my voice a mixture of intrigue and uncertainty. "What's the occasion?"

She chuckled softly as if sharing a secret with me. "A guest is coming. One who is both familiar and unfamiliar. It is a rare and auspicious visit."

I watched her move gracefully around her dwelling, her fingers dancing with purpose, and I couldn't help but be drawn further into the mysterious atmosphere that enveloped the hut.

"Is this guest of yours a friend or a stranger?" I inquired, the questions bubbling up as I sorted through her cluttered shelves.

The old healer's eyes twinkled with secrets held close to her heart. "Both, my dear. Both."

The cryptic nature of her response left me both baffled and intrigued. We continued to work together in silence, and it wasn't long before our combined efforts had the small space looking tidier than ever.

As we toiled, my wolf, Crystal, whispered her doubts persistently.

"Corrigan, this is not right. Something is amiss here. We must be cautious."

"Hush, Crystal. The old healer seems harmless."

Despite my reassurances, my wolf's persistent unease clung to me like a shadow. And in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if my instincts had led me astray, yet again.

We worked together, side by side, preparing a simple dinner. The old healer regaled me with stories of her life, her voice a soothing tonic for my frayed nerves. She offered me a towel and fresh clothes, recommending a brief reprieve before dinner.

As I bathed, the events of the previous night haunted my thoughts. Dante's face, his heart-rending pleas for help, replayed in my mind, filling me with a profound sense of guilt and sorrow.

After my bath, I went back to the room she showed me. I felt a mix of relief and nervousness. My thoughts were all over the place, entirely unprepared for the shock that awaited me.

There, right before me, stood Lucien. His presence was like a nightmare coming true, a dark and eerie aura surrounding him. It was as if he had effortlessly caught up to me, despite all my desperate attempts to escape.

My wolf, sensing the impending danger, let out a low, fearful growl, and in my mind, her voice was clear and haunting: "I warned you." The gravity of the situation couldn't be denied, and the stakes had never been higher.

"Lucien!" I whispered in shock, my eyes widening.