“Be sure to tell any rogues you encounter that you were once Luna of Blackmaw,” Lady Vela added with false sweetness. “I’m certain they’ll be terribly impressed before they tear out your throat.”
I didn’t dignify either comment with a response, keeping my pace steady as I descended the main staircase for the final time. Pack members scattered as I approached, averting their eyes or openly staring, depending on their courage. News of my bond rejection had spread like wildfire through the territory.
No one offered a goodbye. No one stepped forward with a kind word or well-wish. Three years of service to this pack, and I left as I had arrived, alone and uncertain of my future.
The night air hit my face as I pushed through the main doors, cool and sweet with the scent of pine and freedom. I breathed it in greedily, like a prisoner tasting life outside the cell for the first time.
Behind me, the stone fortress loomed in silence, its windows flickering with torchlight that no longer belonged to me.
My boots crunched through the damp underbrush as I crossed the outer threshold of the pack’s domain. The trees thickened around me, rising like watchful sentinels, branches arched as though eavesdropping. Shadows pooled between trunks, shifting and restless.
Each step deeper into the forest was a step away from the only life I’d known—and yet, I felt no grief for it. Just a hollow ache in my chest where the mate bond had been, like torn flesh that hadn’t stopped bleeding.
My wolf stirred, the primal part of me brushing up against my skin, ears perked.
It was alert, and uneasy. I slowed, the sudden quiet ringing louder than the crackle of leaves. The forest wasn’t dead, but it wasn’t alive either. It was holding its breath.
Something was wrong.
The hairs at the base of my neck lifted, a tingling warning creeping down my spine. I inhaled slowly, scenting the air.
Then I smelled them.
Not Blackmaw. Not Redfang. They were strange wolves that I didn’t recognize—more than one, their scents threading through the wind like smoke. They weren’t chasing me.
Fear lanced through me like ice water. A lone female wolf, estranged, exhausted, and freshly severed from a bond, was little more than a wounded deer to a hungry pack.
My pulse thudded in my ears as I picked up my pace. I moved quickly, weaving through the narrowing path.
My breathing came faster, every muscle pulled taut. The forest around me seemed to darken, closing in. Their scent grew stronger, and coser.
Then came the snap of a twig.
Too close that my heart jolted. I bolted forward without thinking, instinct taking over.
I ran.
Branches clawed at my face, snagging in my hair. My lungs burned, my legs pumping as I leapt over a gnarled root, then a fallen log.
Behind me, the forest erupted. The pursuit was no longer subtle—paws thudding against soil, the crush of underbrush, breathless snarls carried on the wind. I have a feeling they are closing in.
I pushed harder, feet barely finding purchase as the terrain sloped unevenly. I turned sharply left, then right, heart thundering. I didn’t know where I was going.
Suddenly, a dark shape emerged ahead.
It was massive, solid, and blocking the path entirely.
I skidded to a halt, momentum nearly throwing me forward into the creature’s chest. I backpedaled instinctively, breath ragged as my eyes adjusted.
The wolf stood tall, easily a head above any warrior I’d ever seen. His eyes, glowing gold, locked onto mine. Not with hunger. But with purpose.
I twisted to flee, but it was too late. Four more figures stepped from the shadows behind me, flanking like coordinated predators. I was surrounded and trapped.
They were all armed. The moonlight caught the polished edge of silver blades at their sides—deadly, ceremonial, precise. My blood turned to ice.
With no way out, the last remnants of pride dissolved. I fell to my knees, fingers digging into the earth, head bowed. My voice shook as it escaped me, cracked and barely above a whisper.
“Please… I’m leaving the territory. I don’t want trouble. I’m no threat to anyone.”
There was no response or movement. My chest rose and fell with the effort of holding back the sob that wanted to crawl out of my throat.
And then… one by one, the wolves dropped to their knees.
Every single one of them kneels down with their heads bowed.
I stared and blinked in confusion. My mind refused to process what I was seeing. I’d prepared myself to be torn apart. But reverence? This made no sense. My lips parted, dry as bone. “What… what is this?”
The largest of them, the one who had blocked my path, raised his head. His face shifted, the features resolving into a man’s—strong-jawed, older than me but not aged, his eyes the pale gray of storm clouds over stone.
He wore a breastplate etched with a sigil I didn’t recognize: a crowned wolf howling beneath a crescent.
His voice, when he spoke, was low but firm. Foreign, almost regal in cadence.
“It’s time to go home, Princess.”
The word stopped the world.
I stared at him, mouth open, air caught in my lungs. What?
“Princess?” I echoed, barely breathing the word.
The stranger didn’t flinch. “The King is waiting for you.”
