Five

Two guards came to my side, their presence suffocating, their armor clinking softly as if to remind me that I was no longer free.

“Don’t worry,” Madam Sonia said, her voice low, almost gentle in a way that did not match the coldness of everything else around me. “I’ll be watching over you from a distance.”

Watching.

Not saving.

I turned and stepped out of my room.

“Ugly bitch!” Hazel slurred from behind me, her voice thick with hatred and grief. “She is cursed. Her Dairus is missing, and now I can’t marry him. I hope Aurelian does to her what they do to captive women of war.”

Her words sliced deeper than any blade.

Then she collapsed into her mother’s—no, Luna Zoran’s—arms, sobbing as though she were the true victim of this moment.

I shivered.

What had I done?

The question echoed endlessly in my mind as I walked down the long staircase, surrounded by guards like a prisoner being led to execution.

What had I done?

Been born?

Had the Moon weaver written this misery into my fate long before I ever took my first breath? Was this punishment for a life I could not remember?

Born a child who killed her mother.

Raised as a burden by a man who was not truly my father, only a guardian bound by obligation—yet who never let me forget I did not belong.

Beaten.

Starved, Humiliated, Broken again and again.

And still… unshifted.

A wolf who could not become a wolf.

Why?

Why was my life carved only from suffering?

Why was I never given even a fragment of kindness?

Who was this man I was being given to now?

What would he do to me?

Behead me?

Break me?

Share me among his warriors like a war prize, just as the whispered stories said happened to captive she-wolves?

Was that to be my fate?

And then—

I saw them.

The great hall stretched wide before me, filled with bodies, voices hushed into a suffocating silence. High-ranking members of the pack stood in rigid formation, their eyes fixed on me—not with sympathy, but with curiosity… judgment… anticipation.

At the center, near the throne—

Luna Zoran stood beside my uncle, presenting herself as the perfect mate, the perfect Luna, as though she had always owned that place.

As though I had never existed.

Men I did not recognize lined the hall—strangers, powerful, dangerous.

And on the throne—

Someone else sat there.

Someone who did not belong to this pack.

I could not see him clearly through the veil covering my face, but I could feel him.

His presence pressed down on the room like a storm about to break.

Kealion stood among the high-ranking wolves, his posture stiff, his gaze carefully neutral—but I knew him well enough to see the tension beneath it.

I was pushed forward until I stood at the front.

Alone.

The man on the throne moved.

Slowly, deliberately, he set his hand aside and rose to his full height.

The sound of his boots echoed as he walked toward me.

Each step heavier than the last.

Each step sealing my fate.

I lowered my gaze immediately, unable to face him—this man who had brought an entire pack to its knees.

Then—

He reached me.

Without warning, he tore the veil from my face.

His hand was rough, unyielding, as his fingers clamped around my jaw and forced my head upward.

And I saw him.

The most beautiful man I had ever seen.

And the most terrifying.

Dark hair, cut short with purpose.

A scar ran beside his eye in a clean, merciless line—proof of battles survived, of bloodshed witnessed.

But his eyes— Amber.

Deep.

Endless.

Cold.

Framed by lashes so thick and long they seemed almost unreal.

The kind of eyes wolves would envy.

The kind of eyes that did not forgive.

His face was flawless, sculpted as though by a god—sharp jawline, perfectly arched brows, a straight, noble nose.

His lips—

Full.

Slightly parted.

Dangerous.

Everything about him was perfection.

Everything about him screamed death.

His body, though partially concealed, radiated strength—years of war, training, survival etched into every line.

He was not like the men of this pack.

He was something else entirely.

A true warrior.

A conqueror.

A monster.

And somehow…My body reacted in a way I could not understand.

Fear.

Yes.

But something else too.

Something that made my stomach twist and my breath falter.

His fingers tightened slightly on my chin as his gaze traveled over my face.

Taking in every flaw.

Every scar.

Every imperfection.

I remembered the scar over my eye—the one they all mocked, the one they said made me hideous.

Shame burned through me, and I lowered my gaze again.

My uncle’s voice echoed in my mind.

Useless.

Ugly.

Worthless.

He must think the same.

He must see a monster too.

“So you are the one,” he said at last, his voice deep, controlled, carrying a weight that silenced the entire hall even further.

“What’s your name?”

There was no kindness in his tone.

No warmth.

Only something dark.Something that felt like restrained fury.

“Seraphine,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my uncle shift.

And I remembered.

I could not fail.

Not now.

Not ever.

Even if this was the only way I could prove that I was not useless…

“I have a gift for you,” the man said.

A gift?

The word felt wrong.

Dangerous.

I hesitated.

Then he stepped back slightly and snapped his fingers.

A man from his pack approached immediately, carrying a box.

My heartbeat quickened.

The man handed the box to him, and then—

He passed it to me.

“Open it.” A command.

Not a suggestion.

The entire hall held its breath.

Silence wrapped around us so tightly it felt suffocating.

My hands trembled as I took the box.

What was this?

A test?

A warning?

A punishment?

Slowly, I pulled at the ribbon.

Opened it.

And—My breath caught.

Inside—The severed head of Alpha Dairus of the Crest Moon Pack.

Hazel’s would-have-been mate.

His lifeless eyes stared up at me, frozen in death, his expression twisted in what must have been his final moment of terror.

The metallic scent of blood hit me instantly.

My fingers went numb.

The box slipped from my grasp.

It hit the ground with a dull thud, the head rolling free, brushing against the hem of my dress, staining it with the last remnants of blood.

A scream tore through the hall.

High-pitched.

Broken.

Hazel.

I lifted my gaze slowly.

My entire body shaking.

And looked at him.

At the man who had just destroyed a life so effortlessly.

He was watching me Not the others Not Hazel Me.And then—He smiled