~Zaria~

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The forest always smelled different before a storm.

It wasn’t just the rain you could feel in your bones it was the stillness. The eerie hush, like every leaf and every creature had paused in worship of the chaos to come.

That was how it felt now.

Except I was the storm.

And I wasn’t done brewing.

I sat beneath a crooked willow tree, legs stretched out, arms behind my head, watching the moon crawl behind the clouds like a coward. My blade lay across my stomach, still crusted with blood. I hadn’t cleaned it yet. There was something sacred in leaving the stains, like wearing your kill proudly.

Every breath I took was laced with copper and pine.

The river roared not far behind me.

And Levi was gone.

He left with a bruise on his jaw, bite marks down his chest, and blood on his tongue. I didn’t need him to stay. That was the difference between me and every Omega they tried to mold me into.

I didn’t need anyone to stay.

But I remembered what he said.

“The Alpha King’s watching.”

Yeah. I felt it.

Like a thread of heat at the base of my spine. A prickle beneath my skin that didn’t belong to my body, but something older. Something tethered to me by history and blood and hate.

He hadn’t spoken to me in years.

Not since the exile. Not since he branded me a disgrace to his bloodline and spat on the bond that had once almost connected us.

Alpha Kings don’t kneel.

But back then… I was just a trembling little Omega, on the edge of my first shift, daring to challenge him.

Now?

Now I was everything he feared I’d become.

The campfire I built was weak.

I didn’t care.

I wasn’t trying to stay warm.

I was baiting wolves.

Sure enough, I heard them.

Not footsteps wolves don’t move like that. Not when they’re trained. What I heard was the shift of air. A rhythm in the leaves. A subtle disruption in the wrong direction of the wind.

Trained soldiers.

Royal guards.

I smiled.

Let them come.

They didn’t attack.

They didn’t charge.

They surrounded me.

Three of them Alphas, clearly. Clad in dark armor etched with the symbol of the royal crest: a crescent moon over a wolf’s skull. The Alpha King’s sigil.

One of them stepped forward. Scar down his cheek. Eyes like ice and judgment.

“Zaria of Black Hollow,” he said, stiff and formal. “The King requests your return.”

I yawned.

“Tell the King to shove his request up the nearest royal *ss.”

The soldier didn’t blink. “Refusal will be considered treason.”

“Oh no,” I mock gasped, pressing a hand to my heart. “Treason? What a terrifying word for someone who was already thrown out like rotten meat.”

The other two wolves bristled. The one who spoke narrowed his eyes.

“You are to return with us. Now.”

“And if I don’t?”

His lips curled. “Then we drag you.”

That made me laugh.

I rose slowly, blade in hand, firelight licking the side of my face.

“I’d love to see you try.”

The wolf lunged.

Too slow.

Too loud.

Too Alpha.

I ducked, spun, and carved a clean arc across his leg. He dropped with a grunt. Not dead just embarrassed.

The second came next. I slammed the hilt of my blade into his throat before he could draw his dagger. The third? He hesitated. Smart.

“Tell your King,” I said, standing over them, voice cold, “that if he wants me, he can come get me himself.”

They left.

Crawled, limped, stumbled away into the trees. Bleeding. Shamed.

And I stood there, chest rising and falling, my blade dripping at my side.

I didn’t smile this time.

Because now I knew.

He really was watching.

Not from the shadows.

Not through the guards.

But from the place only bonded wolves could feel through the tether.

Yes. That bond.

That almost bond.

He’d reached for it tonight.

A pulse.

A spark.

Not strong enough to control me.

Not yet.

But strong enough to know I was still his at least in blood. If not in body.

The King still thought he could summon me like some mutt.

He forgot who I was.

I turned my eyes to the distant hills.

Toward Red Hollow his territory. His throne. His seat of power.

Maybe it was time I started sending messages.

The kind that burned.

The next day, I found the village.

A border town, straddling no man’s land between rogue country and royal rule. Half of them followed the crown. Half followed coin. No loyalty. Just survival.

My kind of place.

I walked in with my hood up and my boots caked in dried blood. Nobody stopped me. Nobody dared.

They whispered.

"She’s back."

"That’s her Zaria, the cursed Omega."

"I heard she made an Alpha sl*t his own throat just to breathe her scent again."

Let them talk.

I needed supplies.

And a map.

And a plan.

But first, I needed to visit someone.

The woman who'd taught me how to sharpen a blade with broken bones.

The healer who’d sewn up my stomach the night my first heat nearly killed me.

The one person left in this world who didn’t want to tame me.

Mother Myra.

I found her in the apothecary shop, grinding herbs with calloused hands, eyes white as snow from age but seeing more than any seer ever could.

She didn’t look up when I entered.

“You reek of lust, blood, and vengeance,” she said, voice rasping like smoke.

“Your perfume’s gotten better,” I replied.

She cracked a smile.

“Sit, child. The King’s finally stirred, hasn’t he?”

I froze.

“…you knew?”

Myra looked up. Blind, but somehow staring straight into my soul.

“I dreamed of him last night. His claws dipped in gold. His eyes burning like war. And your name… written in ash on his tongue.”

My throat tightened.

“What does he want from me now?” I asked.

Her voice dropped.

“He doesn’t want to claim you, Zaria. He wants to kill the part of you he couldn’t ever control.”

I stared at her.

Then whispered, “And if he fails?”

Myra grinned, all teeth.

“Then you’ll wear his crown like a trophy. And every wolf who doubted you will kneel in your scent.”

Later that night, I sat on the rooftop of the tavern, wine in my hand, blade in my lap, stars overhead.

The wind was shifting.

The King’s soldiers would come again.

But this time?

I’d be waiting.

And if he dared show his face?

The exile would end the only way it ever could.

With blood on a throne.

And an Omega ruling alone.

~The Alpha King (Jasper) ~

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The taste of her still clung to my tongue.

No, not her scent. Not her skin. Not her heat.

Her defiance.

It was metallic. Sharp. Bitter like betrayal and sweet like sin. Zaria. The Omega I cast out. The one I should have broken.

But instead?She broke me.

No one knows that part of the story. No one dares to ask why the King of Red Hollow bears no Queen. Why the bond that should’ve been sealed during her first heat was left bleeding in the dark.

Because if they knew what she did how she refused me, challenged me, bit me before I could mark her they’d question my rule.

So I buried her name. Burned her image from every scroll, every hall. Declared her a rogue.

But a King doesn’t forget.

Not when she was mine before the moon ever whispered her name. Not when the tether still throbs in the marrow of my bones, refusing to break, no matter how many others I’ve touched, f*ck*d, or killed.

And now she’s stirring hell again.

She thinks she’s fire.

Let her burn.

I watched through the scrying flames as my soldiers limped back to the gate. Bloodied. Shamed.Her name on their lips like a curse.Zaria.

Even hearing it sent something feral through me.

My Beta approached from the shadows, cloak dragging over the marble.

“She refused to come willingly,” he said.

“She always did,” I murmured, rising from the throne.

My Beta swallowed. “Shall I send more? Or… go myself?”

I turned. Slowly.

He flinched.

“Tell me, Cade,” I said, voice low. “If I sent you, and she tore your throat out the way she did Darius’s, would you beg for mercy, or would you thank her for the privilege of dying by her hand?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Because no wolf walks away from Zaria without scars. Physical or otherwise.

And that’s the thing about scars…

They belong to her now.

The war room reeked of sweat and metal.

Map spread across the table. My kingdom fragmenting at the edges.

Territories slipping. Borders disobeyed. Packs questioning the bloodline.

All because she returned.

One woman.

One goddamn Omega.

But Zaria was never just anything.

The other Alphas want her.

Some to claim her.

Some to tame her.

Some just to watch her fall.

They’ll never get the chance.

Because I will reach her first.

And this time?

She won’t walk away.

Two nights later, I rode alone.

No guard. No banner. No crown.Just me and the scent trail still clinging to the northern wind.

She was smart covering her tracks with ash, pine, blood.But the bond didn’t need a trail.It sang to me.

And I followed the hum of it straight to a tavern that reeked of piss, smoke, and danger.

I didn’t knock.Didn’t pause.

I kicked the door off its hinges.

And every b*st*rd inside scattered like fleas from a flame.

Except her.

Zaria sat at the bar, boots on the stool, glass in hand, looking at me like I was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Not fate.Not fury.Not the King of all she once swore to destroy.

Just a man she used to love.

Or maybe loathe. The line always blurred with her.

“Awful dramatic entrance,” she said, sipping. “Trying to impress someone?”

I stepped forward, the room warping around us.

“I should rip your throat out for the mess you’ve made.”

She stood slowly, leaned against the bar.

“Do it, then. But you’ll still smell me on your hands.”

Gods. That mouth.

She had no idea how close I was to slamming her against the wall and reminding her why she once whimpered my name beneath moonlight.

Or maybe she did.

She stepped closer.

The scent hit me. it was faint. Not heat. Not lust.Just Zaria.

Like dark forests and the bite of winter.Like everything I was ever denied.

“You came all this way,” she whispered. “Just to pretend you don’t want me?”

I reached for her throat.

She didn’t flinch.

My fingers curled, not to choke but to touch.

Her pulse fluttered beneath my thumb like a wild thing trapped in a cage.

“You left me,” I said.

“You exiled me,” she shot back.

“I spared you.”

“You feared me.”

We stared.Tension so thick it could’ve torn the room in two.

“You could have been my Queen,” I said quietly.

“I still might be,” she answered.

Then smirked. “But I’m not sure the crown is worth the King anymore.”

I backed her into the wall before I could think.

Her breath hitched.

I kissed her like a punishment.

She bit back like a challenge.

Teeth. Tongue. Bruises blooming.

It was violence disguised as desire. Or maybe the other way around.

When I pulled back, blood trickled from both our lips.

“I don’t want your heat,” I snarled.

She licked her lip. “Good. Because I wasn’t offering it.”

“You think I’ll let you burn my kingdom to the ground?”

She leaned up. “I don’t think, your Majesty. I plan.”

I should’ve shackled her then.

I should’ve dragged her home and broken her bond by force.

But I didn’t.

Because there was still something I hadn’t admitted.

I missed her.

Not just the body. The fight. The fury.

But the fact that when she looked at me, she saw the monster I tried to hide and loved me anyway.

Even when she left.

Even now.

She slipped from my grasp like smoke, walking toward the shattered tavern door.

“Go back to your palace,” she said. “Your throne’s lonely without you.”

I stared.

She turned.

“But soon, it’ll be mine.”

Then she was gone.

And the tether?

It pulled.

Stronger than before.

More alive than ever.

She wasn’t mine.

But I was still hers.

And if I wanted to keep my crown…

I’d have to take her heart.

By force.

Or by fire.

Zaria~

They say some wars are fought with steel.

Mine?It’s fought with scent. With secrets. With skin.

And I’m about to win it all.

The tavern burned behind me.

No literal flames yet. But the tension Jasper left in his wake was enough to set every wall crackling. I could still feel his breath against my mouth. His voice in my blood. His rage braided into the tether that pulsed under my ribs like a war drum.

I hated that he still moved me.

I hated more that I let him.

But there’s a difference between feeling a pull and following it. And I had no intention of crawling back into a collar, no matter how much gold they poured over it.

I made it two miles into the woods before I felt him again.

Not Jasper.

Levi.

His presence wasn’t a roar it was a shadow. Silent. Familiar. A comfort wrapped in chaos. I knew he’d follow me. He always did.

“You still smell like him,” came his voice from the dark.

I didn’t turn. “And you still think that bothers me.”

He stepped out from between the trees, shirt half-unbuttoned, chest rising with the rhythm of a storm barely held back.

“It should bother you. He’s the reason you were exiled.”

“And you’re the reason I survived it.”

Silence.

Gods, it hurt to look at him sometimes.

Levi wasn’t just a Beta. He was the only wolf who didn’t flinch when I bared teeth. Who didn’t try to tame me, chain me, or break me. He knew how to fight beside me not above me.

He moved closer.

“You let him touch you,” he said, low. “Why?”

I met his eyes. “Because I wanted to remind him what he lost.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Zaria.”

I smiled. “Good. Danger’s the only thing that makes me feel alive.”

He reached for me. Not roughly. Not like Jasper. He cupped my jaw like I was made of ash and starlight something precious and barely held together.

“I know you don’t need anyone,” Levi said. “But d*mn it, Zaria, I’m here anyway. I always have been.”

My throat tightened.

He leaned in.

I let him kiss me.

It wasn’t fury like Jasper’s.

It was something else. A promise. A prayer. The kind of kiss that tasted like home if home had ever been safe.

But safety wasn’t what I needed right now.

Power was.

I broke the kiss with a breath that trembled more than I wanted it to.

“Tell me what you’ve heard,” I said, switching gears before I crumbled into him again.

Levi stepped back, jaw clenched.

“There’s movement in the east. Alpha Ronin’s packs are shifting toward Red Hollow. They smell blood in the water.”

“And they’ll drown in it if they think Jasper will fall that easily.”

Levi’s gaze hardened. “And what about you, Zaria? Where do you stand in all this? With the King? Or against him?”

I didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth?

I didn’t know yet.

JASPER

“She left you standing in a pile of your own power,” Cade muttered as he stitched a wound on my side. “Bet that felt nice.”

I didn’t kill him.

That’s how you know I’ve matured.

“She’s planning something,” I said through gritted teeth. “She wouldn’t show up just to tease the throne. She wants a war.”

Cade nodded. “Then maybe it’s time we give her one.”

I stared out the window of the war room.

The sky was turning black.

Not with clouds.

With wings.

Scouts. Messengers. Smoke trailing behind.

And every single whisper they carried was the same.

Zaria. Zaria. Zaria.

My exile had become her legend.

And now the legend was coming home.

ZARIA

Mother Myra didn’t flinch when I returned.

But her voice was steel wrapped in velvet.

“You kissed him again, didn’t you?”

I blinked. “You spying on me now?”

“I don’t need eyes to smell your soul.” She pointed at my chest. “It’s fraying.”

“It’s burning,” I corrected. “That’s different.”

Myra shook her head, mixing herbs with something that hissed and smoked. “You can’t war with two men at once. Not when one still holds your name in his blood, and the other holds your heart.”

“I’m not choosing between them.”

“No,” she agreed. “You’re choosing yourself. And that’s why it terrifies them.”

LEVI

I found the Alpha King’s guard before they found me.

Stalking near the southern ridge. Trying to pick up Zaria’s trail.

Idiots.

I killed the first one fast. Arrow to the neck. He never made a sound.

The second begged.

I didn’t listen.

The third?

I left him alive. Just barely.

“Tell your King,” I whispered, crouched beside his bleeding body, “that she’s not his anymore. And if he touches her again, I’ll burn his palace to the ground brick by brick.”

Then I walked away.

Because Levi the Beta wasn’t soft anymore.

Not when it came to her.

ZARIA

The next night, I stood on a cliffside, wind whipping through my hair, cloak snapping like a banner of war.

Below me? Red Hollow glowed like a city of embers.

Behind me? Wolves stirred. Rogues. Outcasts. Scars on their skin and fury in their eyes. My army wasn’t royal. Wasn’t pureblooded.

But it was mine.

“We ride at dawn,” I said, loud enough for the stars to hear.

“To take back what they tried to bury.”

“To carve our names into the bones of kings.”

And deep in the dark, the tether snapped.

Not broken.

Activated.

Jasper felt it too I knew he did.

Because for the first time in years…

He howled.

And it wasn’t a call for power.

It was a warning.

That the Queen was coming.

And she wasn’t coming to kneel.

She was coming to reign.