The castle rose from the earth like a nightmare made of stone. Lyra stumbled as Garren shoved her forward, her wrists raw from the rope that bound them. The Bloodmoon Pack's fortress towered above them, all sharp angles and black walls that seemed to swallow light. Gargoyles perched on every corner, their stone eyes following her movement. "Home sweet home," Garren sneered. "Hope you like dark places, little rogue." The main gates groaned open, revealing a courtyard filled with wolves.
Dozens of them. They stopped what they were doing—sparring, talking, working—and turned to stare. Lyra felt their eyes like knives on her skin. She lifted her chin, refusing to show fear even as her heart hammered against her ribs. "Look at her," someone whispered. "Filthy as a street dog." "Those scars on her hands—disgusting." "Alpha Kael chose that as our Luna?" Their words hit like physical blows, but Lyra kept walking. She'd survived worse than cruel gossip. Much worse. A woman stepped forward from the crowd. Beautiful, with perfect blonde hair and a dress that probably cost more than most wolves made in a year. Her blue eyes raked over Lyra with obvious disgust. "Surely there's been some mistake," the woman said loudly. "This... creature can't be our new Luna." Garren grinned. "Oh, but she is, Vivian. Alpha's orders." Vivian's perfect face twisted with rage. "I've been training my whole life to be Luna of this pack. I'm nobility. I'm pure-blooded. I'm—" "Not his mate," Garren interrupted. "The Moon Goddess chose little Lyra here. Who are we to argue with divine will?" The sarcasm in his voice was thick as honey. Lyra realized this was all a show. Garren wanted the pack to see her humiliation. Wanted them to reject her before she even had a chance. "Where is Kael?" Lyra demanded, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. "Alpha Kael," Garren corrected, yanking on her rope. "Show some respect." "I'll show respect when he earns it." Gasps echoed through the courtyard. Several wolves shifted closer, their eyes beginning to glow red. The scent of anger filled the air. "Careful, rogue," Vivian hissed. "Disrespecting our Alpha is punishable by death." "Everything seems to be punishable by death around here," Lyra shot back. "No wonder you all look so miserable." More gasps. A few growls. Garren's grip tightened on the rope.
"Keep talking, Luna. See how long your mate bond protects you." Before Lyra could reply, the crowd parted. Wolves scrambled to get out of the way as a figure emerged from the castle's main doors. Kael. He moved like liquid shadow, all controlled power and deadly grace. His gray eyes swept the courtyard before settling on Lyra. She felt the mate bond pulse, sending unwanted warmth through her chest. "Having trouble with our guest, Garren?" Kael's voice was calm, but something dangerous lurked beneath the surface. "Nothing I can't handle, Alpha." Garren jerked the rope again, making Lyra stumble. "Just explaining pack rules to the little rogue." Kael's eyes narrowed. "I don't recall asking you to explain anything." The temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop ten degrees. Garren's confident smile faltered. "Of course, Alpha. I was just—" "You were just bringing her inside. Immediately." Kael's tone brooked no argument. "The rest of you, back to your duties." The crowd began to disperse, but Lyra caught their whispered comments. "She won't last a week." "Alpha will tire of her soon enough."
"Poor little rogue doesn't know what she's gotten into." Vivian was the last to leave, her blue eyes promising murder as she glared at Lyra. Kael watched until the courtyard was empty before approaching. Without warning, he grabbed the rope from Garren's hands and sliced through it with a knife that appeared from nowhere. Lyra rubbed her wrists, watching him warily. "Thanks." "Don't thank me yet." Kael sheathed the knife. "You'll need those hands for tomorrow's ceremony." Right. The forced bonding. Lyra's stomach twisted. "Garren, prepare the Luna's quarters," Kael ordered. "Fresh clothes, food, whatever she needs." "Alpha, surely a simple cell would be more appropriate—" Kael's head turned slowly toward his Beta. His gray eyes had gone fully black. "Are you questioning my orders?" Garren paled. "No, Alpha. Of course not." "Good. Then go." Garren rushed away, his scarred face tight with anger. Lyra filed that response away for later. The Beta clearly had his own agenda. "Come," Kael said, turning toward the castle. "We need to talk." Lyra followed him up stone steps worn smooth by centuries of use. The castle's interior was just as intimidating as its outside—all dark wood and heavy tapestries depicting battles and bloodshed. "Cheerful place," she muttered. "It keeps enemies away." "And friends too, I'd guess." Kael's mouth twitched. Maybe amusement. Maybe annoyance. "I don't have friends. I have allies and enemies. Nothing in between." "Lonely way to live." "Safe way to live." They climbed a winding staircase to the upper floors. Portraits lined the walls—previous Alphas and Lunas, all looking stern and powerful. None of them looked happy. "Your pack hates me," Lyra said as they walked.
"They don't know you well enough to hate you yet." "Vivian seems to manage just fine." Kael stopped walking. "Vivian was supposed to be my Luna. Her family has been planning our union since we were children." "What changed?" "The mate bond." His gray eyes fixed on hers. "The Moon Goddess decided I belonged to you instead." The way he said it made it sound like a disease. Or a curse. "You could reject the bond," Lyra pointed out. "Choose her anyway." "And show weakness? Let other packs think the Moon Goddess's will means nothing to me?" Kael shook his head. "Impossible." So she was just a political necessity. A way for him to appear strong and faithful to tradition. The knowledge shouldn't have hurt, but it did. They reached a hallway lined with doors. Kael stopped at one near the end and pushed it open. "Your rooms," he said simply. Lyra stepped inside and froze. The chamber was beautiful—far nicer than anywhere she'd slept in ten years. Silk curtains, a massive bed with soft furs, a fireplace crackling with warmth. And covering every surface, silver objects glinted in the firelight. Hairbrushes. Jewelry boxes. Picture frames. All decorated with moons and stars. All exactly like things Elara used to love. "This was her room," Lyra whispered. "Yes." "You kept everything exactly the same." Kael's jaw clenched.
"She was... important to our pack." "Important enough to preserve her room like a shrine?" "Important enough to remember." Lyra turned to face him. "You loved her." It wasn't a question. She could see it in his eyes—the same pain she carried, the same guilt that ate at him every day. "She was seven years old," Kael said quietly. "Innocent. Happy. She made everyone around her better just by existing." "What happened to her?" For a moment, Kael's mask slipped. Lyra saw raw grief, crushing regret, and something else. Something that looked like fear. Then his walls slammed back up. "She drowned," he said coldly. "In the forbidden river. Just like you almost did." "But how did she get there? Why was she alone?" "Too many questions, little rogue." Kael backed toward the door. "Rest. Eat. Tomorrow you become Luna whether you want to or not." He started to leave, then paused. "One more thing. Guards will be posted outside your door. For your protection, of course." "Of course," Lyra echoed dryly. "Don't try to run again. Next time, I won't be so... gentle." The door closed behind him with a solid thud. Lyra heard the sound of heavy boots taking position outside. She was alone. Alone in a dead girl's room, surrounded by a dead girl's things. Lyra walked to the window and looked out at the courtyard below. Wolves moved about their business, none of them looking up at her tower jail. As she watched, a figure emerged from the darkness near the castle wall. Small. Pale. With long dark hair that seemed to move in a breeze Lyra couldn't feel. Elara.
The ghost-child looked up at Lyra's window and waved. Her mouth moved, making words Lyra couldn't hear. But she could read words. Tomorrow, Elara mouthed. Tomorrow it starts. Then she melted back into the shadows, leaving Lyra looking at empty stone. A knock at the door made her jump. "Luna?" A servant's voice. "I have food and fresh clothes." Lyra backed away from the window, her heart racing. Tomorrow what begins? The bonding ceremony? Or something worse? As she let the servant in, one thought repeated in her mind. Whatever was coming, she had less than twenty-four hours to figure out how to survive it.