Mireya

The morning I planned to leave with my mother, I never once considered the possibility that someone would be waiting for me.

I stopped short the second her scent reached me.

She didn’t belong.

Gardenias—too heavy, too deliberate—mixed with something sharp and chemical, a perfume meant to smother her real smell. It lingered inside our small den like a warning. My bare feet touched the cool planks as I moved farther in, slow and cautious, claws aching to break free beneath my skin.

And there she was.

A stranger sat on our couch as if she’d always owned it, spine straight, legs crossed, heels pressed into the rug with quiet authority. Her hair was pulled tight into a polished bun, and the moment she noticed me, her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Who are you supposed to be?” I growled, stepping forward. My wolf prowled uneasily inside me. “And why are you in my house? Leave. Now.”

Her gaze dragged over me with clear disdain. “Mm. That face…” She clicked her tongue, ignoring my demand entirely. “Ivyclaw blood does produce striking features. Shame it also produces such an unrefined attitude.”

The jab landed deeper than I wanted to admit, but I kept my expression still.

“Say what you came to say,” I snapped, lowering my center of gravity. “Because if you don’t walk out that door, I will make you.”

Only then did she fully turn toward me, folding her arms like a judge about to pass sentence. “I’m a messenger. Alpha Voren has acquired you.”

My breath stuttered. “Acquired?”

She smiled wider. “Sold. Handed over willingly—by your pack, your Alpha, and yes, even your dear former husband, Dominic. All signatures accounted for.” Her voice coiled around my chest. “You’re being transferred as Alpha Voren’s secondary companion. A political arrangement.”

My legs nearly gave out. “That’s impossible. That’s illegal.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she replied lightly, producing an aged scroll stamped with multiple seals. “Not under werewolf trade statutes. Particularly not for… compromised bloodlines.”

The name burned my throat.

“Voren,” I breathed. “The same Alpha Marianne defended? The one who assaulted a child?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Details. The rogue had no standing. You, however, are Ivyclaw-born. Healthy. Capable of producing heirs. And most importantly—unclaimed.”

Something inside me snapped. I launched forward.

I never reached her.

Two massive wolves moved faster than thought, slamming into place between us. Alpha Voren’s guards. I bared my fangs, snarling, but they didn’t flinch.

Then the door opened again.

I turned—and felt my heart drop.

Dominic. Marianne at his side. And behind them, filling the doorway like a living nightmare, Alpha Voren himself.

My wolf howled inside my skull.

“There she is,” Marianne purred, stepping closer. “Our little bargaining chip.” She tilted her head toward Dominic. “Did you explain that her sister was the original deal?”

Cold flooded my veins.

“What did you say?”

“Your twin,” she clarified smoothly. “She was meant to be delivered. But she vanished, didn’t she? Ran off with some rogue?” Marianne’s eyes glittered. “So now you’ll take her place. Dead blood has no value.”

I swallowed hard. “She’s gone,” I whispered. “She’s dead.”

Dominic recoiled. Marianne merely smirked.

“You keep insisting that. No remains, no proof. She could be anywhere—warm, hidden, pregnant.”

I screamed and surged forward again, but Dominic grabbed me this time. His hands crushed my wrists.

I searched his face desperately.

There was nothing there.

“This is necessary,” he said without emotion.

“You’re condemning me,” I spat. “Remember that.”

He shoved me straight into Voren’s arms. The stench—decay, blood, suffering—made my stomach twist.

“No!” My mother’s cry split the air.

She rushed forward, but guards restrained her. I met her gaze and gave a tiny shake of my head.

Trust me.

She sobbed—but nodded.

I went limp in Voren’s grasp. My wolf protested, but I murmured, Soon.

They forced me into an armored vehicle. I memorized everything—the guards, the locks, the road. No wolfsbane. No open windows.

Good.

I counted silently.

The road curved. Trees blurred.

I let my wolf rise.

When the turn came, I shifted.

Metal shattered. Pain exploded. I ran.

Branches tore at me as howls erupted behind. But these woods were mine.

I reached the hollow tree, found my bag, sent the message.

Airport. Terminal 2. Now.

The reply came instantly.

I’m here.

I made it.

When I saw my mother, hood up, eyes wet, I took her hand.

“Mom,” I whispered, breaking.

“…we’re finally leaving.”

Mireya

I didn’t think we’d make it out of Ivyclaw alive.

The flight was short, but my hands were clenched the entire way. Every breath I took felt borrowed, like death was sitting in the seat beside me, waiting to strike when I finally relaxed. My mother, Emma, sat beside me, clutching her coat tight around her even though the cabin was warm. Her eyes stayed on the aisle. She was watching. Always watching.

We both were.

Every passenger could’ve been one of Dominic’s men. Or worse, a spy from Alpha Voren’s side. I’d seen enough brutality in Ivyclaw Pack to know that silence didn’t mean safety, it only meant danger was waiting for a better time.

We landed far from any capital I knew. The runway was crude, and the airport small, almost deserted. As soon as the plane door opened, I smelled them, wolves.

But not from Ivyclaw. Not from any pack I recognized. Their scents were… foreign. Old. Heavy with earth and something unfamiliar. They didn’t bear the arrogance of highborn wolves, but there was a stillness in the way they stood that made my wolf stir uneasily in my chest.

“They’re not from the Packs we know,” my mother whispered, her fingers twitching at her sides, ready to shift at any moment.

They didn’t speak right away. Just watched us. Their silence was unsettling, but it wasn’t cruel. It was measured.

Finally, an older man stepped forward. His hair was silver, long, tied neatly at the nape of his neck. He looked like he belonged in a war council from an era long forgotten. His presence was strong, too strong for someone who claimed no known pack.

“You’ll come with us,” he said.

“Who are you? What do you need from us? And where exactly are we going?” I asked, squaring my shoulders despite the tremor in my voice.

He gave a slight smile. “To the Moonlight Pack.”

I blinked. “Don’t fool me. That doesn’t exist.”

“It does,” he replied calmly. “Just not for those who shouldn’t know about it.”

We had no choice.

The wolves surrounded us like a loose ring, never too close, never too far. Protective, maybe. Or a warning. We were ushered into a black, heavily tinted van that smelled faintly of pine and metal. There were no windows to track the direction. Just the soft humming of tires over unfamiliar roads.

I sat there, the silence pressing against my skull, trying not to let the panic in my chest show. We’d barely escaped one prison. Now we were being driven into another, and I didn’t even know its name.

The old man sat across from us in the van, his posture stiff but not unfriendly. “Name’s Cassius,” he offered suddenly. “I was told to fetch you. The Alpha was expecting you.”

“Expecting us?” my mother echoed, eyes narrowing. “How? We didn’t even know where we were going until we boarded.”

“Not all things are known through words,” Cassius replied, cryptic and maddening. “The Moonlight Pack has its ways.”

I frowned. “Why would a secret pack want anything to do with us?”

He tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Because not all secrets are meant to stay hidden. Don’t worry, we are not fugitives or criminals.”

We drove for what felt like hours. The air grew cooler, the roads narrower. Then I saw it through the one small slit of a window near the roof, a glimpse of something sprawling and green.

The Forbidden City.

That’s what they called it, according to Cassius. A hidden region, shielded by magic and land both. Not governed by any of the known Alphas or their territories. No records. No bloodlines traced.

“The Moonlight Pack is the oldest pack,” Cassius said as we neared the edge. “We do not exist in your books because we choose not to. History favors the loud. We prefer to survive.”

I stared out the sliver of glass, catching sights of towering trees, deep winding roads, and buildings too old to belong to this century, but maintained with care. Almost sacred. It didn’t look like a prison.

But I couldn’t shake the dread coiling in my gut. Freedom shouldn’t feel this much like being swallowed.

We didn’t reach their main territory, though. Instead, the van turned into a long gravel path lined with blackthorn trees and stopped in front of an old, grand manor.

“Why aren’t we going to your main packhouse?” I asked as we stepped out.

Cassius adjusted his coat. “Because the Alpha prefers introductions in neutral spaces. And because what’s waiting for you… is better handled in private.”

That didn’t help the anxiety clawing up my spine.

The manor smelled like cedarwood, old parchment, and faint traces of magic. Wolves walked its halls, tall, silent, disciplined. Every one of them had the quiet strength of those who’d seen centuries pass.

They bowed slightly as we passed. Not out of deference. But acknowledgment. Like they already knew who I was.

It was unsettling.

The walls inside the manor were lined with portraits, not of people, but of forests. Wolves running. Moons in every phase.

Cassius led us to a set of heavy oak doors at the end of a long corridor. He stopped in front of them. His tone softened. “You’ll want to hold on to your mother.”

“What?” I asked, frowning.

But the moment I placed my hand on the door handle, something inside me snapped.

My knees buckled.

Pain. Burning. A strange heat spread from my chest down to my fingertips. I gasped, reaching out blindly, and my mother caught me, pulling me against her.

“Mireya?” she whispered, panic rising. “Is it—?”

The sensation was unmistakable. The same overwhelming pull I’d felt at the ball. The moment Marianne leaked the video and the crowd turned into vultures—I felt this very same thing.

A bond. A soul-level call.

A mate.

“No,” I breathed, eyes wide. But it was already too late.

The doors creaked open slowly, and I felt the weight of the world shift. And there he was.

Standing at the far end of the office, behind a large obsidian desk, backlit by the soft glow of moonlight pouring in through a stained-glass window.

He turned to us, and the breath caught in my throat.

He was young. Strikingly so. Tall and built like the forest carved him itself. His hair was white as snow, falling past his shoulders in soft waves. But it was his eyes that held me still, silver, piercing, ancient.

I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know what role he played here.

But I knew this: he was mine.

My mate.

And nothing in the world had prepared me for the storm that was coming next.

Mireya

My chest had clenched the moment our eyes met inside the manor’s grand study. And now, seated across from him in a room carved from quiet power and solemn shadows, I still didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or run.

Everything was too much.

My twin sister was dead. Ysabel, who used to hold my hand under the covers when our nightmares were louder than the wind outside the packhouse windows, was now ashes inside the ceramic urn that sat quietly in my mother’s trembling hands.

Dominic… Dominic had left me hollow. Used me, then discarded me. A man who once swore to defy the Moon Goddess herself for me had instead dragged me to the edge of ruin. Had I not escaped, I would’ve been bartered like livestock to some decrepit Alpha looking for a pretty new mate to breed.

But now… this man before me. He is my fated.

No. No, I wasn’t ready. Not for this. Not for anything like this again.

“I felt it the moment you did,” Ross said, his voice deep and controlled, like a storm just barely held back by a dam. “That day. I felt it… soul-crashing and deep. But it stopped when the commotion of the leaked video happened. I was about to look for you, but my presence was called by the Alpha King.”

I didn’t respond right away. My jaw clenched. I was tired. Bone-deep tired.

“You were gone when I came back,” he continued, eyes on mine. “I searched for you. My wolf was half-crazed. I used every contact I had, every damn wolf and crow in the underground, to find out who you were. And when I did… I investigated everything about you.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch as if to acknowledge the weight of my past.

“I know what they did to your sister. I know how your pack treated you. I know about Dominic, and the trial, and Marianne…” His jaw flexed. “The things I read, I wanted to tear someone apart.”

My breath hitched. He leaned forward slightly. “You don’t have to believe me. I just wanted to find you. To offer you something… even if it’s just safety.”

I swallowed thickly. The fated mate bond was humming under my skin, pulling at me, begging me to trust him. To lean in. To feel.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

“I don’t know if I can love anyone again,” I said finally, my voice low, raw. “I don’t think I want to.”

He nodded, not offended. Not wounded. Just… understanding.

“That’s fair,” he said. “Then let me start as something else.”

I raised a brow. “Something else?”

“A client,” he said with a slight smile. “If you still want to practice law. There are… things that require your kind of mind. Wolves who need a sharp tongue, a steady hand, and someone who knows what justice is supposed to look like.”

I blinked. “You want me to work for you?”

“Work with me,” he corrected, leaning back into his seat. “The Moonlight Pack operates in the shadows, yes. But we have our own codes. Our own wars. And we could use someone like you.”

My lips parted, unsure how to answer.

“I’ll think about it,” I murmured, looking away.

He didn’t press. “That’s all I ask.”

That night, after dinner, I stood by the wide window of the guest room I now shared with my mother. The room was warm, clean, and filled with the gentle scent of lavender and cedar.

It felt nothing like home.

My mother sat curled on the edge of the bed, holding Ysabel’s urn close to her chest. Her eyes were swollen from crying, though she tried to hide it behind the calm expressions she always wore for my sake.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly, walking over and sitting beside her.

She nodded slowly. “He seems kind. Alpha Ross.”

I didn’t answer.

“He told me we could stay here as long as we needed,” she continued. “That this could be our new home. That no one would harm us here.”

I looked down at the floor. After everything, it was strange how kindness now felt more suspicious than cruelty.

My hands curled into fists. “I don’t know if I can believe in safety anymore.”

My mother’s hand found mine. “We survived, Mireya. That counts for something.”

I looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to just survive.”

She stayed silent, waiting.

“I want revenge.”

Her grip tightened, but she didn’t scold me.

I turned to look at the urn in her lap. “Dominic. Marianne. Alpha Voren. The pack members who turned their backs. I want to see them fall. I want to tear their empire down. Bit by bit. Brick by brick. Until it all burns.”

There was a storm building in my chest. My mother just nodded, as if she understood the darkness growing in me. Because it had grown in her, too.

Later that night, I found myself outside Alpha Ross’s study again.

I wasn’t sure if it was the bond pulling me in or the fury inside me, begging for an outlet. But my feet carried me to him, heart hammering so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts.

The manor was quiet, the hallways dimly lit with old sconces. As I approached his door, it opened before I could knock.

He stood there in a dark robe, embroidered with silver thread at the collar. His silver-white hair looked nearly luminous under the hallway light. And his eyes, sharp, piercing, locked onto mine as if he had been waiting.

The scent of pine and frost swept over me, intoxicating and dangerous.

He tilted his head. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I didn’t answer. I stepped inside. He closed the door behind me.

We stood there for a few heartbeats, the bond sparking faintly between us. I ignored it.

“I don’t care about the bond,” I said. “Not now.”

His expression didn’t change.

I walked closer, slow and steady. “I don’t care what I have to do. Who I have to become. I want revenge. I want every last wolf who destroyed my family to bleed.”

Something shifted in his eyes, approval, perhaps. Or understanding.

“I’ll do anything,” I whispered. “Anything you ask. If it means I get to rip them apart myself.”

There was silence. Then he stepped forward, a faint smirk curling at the edges of his lips.

“Very well,” he said, voice like steel wrapped in velvet.