chapter 1

Raelin’s POV

The dress fits like it was made for me.

Because it was.

Silken white, with silver threading down the sides to catch the light of the moon—the same moon that’s supposed to witness our bond tonight. My bond. My ceremony. My moment.

The one I’ve earned.

I stare at my reflection and see a Luna. Hair braided back with white roses. Shoulders square. Eyes sharp. No blood on my hands tonight. Just elegance and power.

“You ready, Raelin?” my cousin whispers as she peeks into the tent flap. “They’re waiting.”

I nod once. I’m not nervous. I’m not scared.

I’m ready.

Darius and I have been through everything together. War. Famine. Political tension between packs. He promised me this. Not just the title, not just the bond—but us. I saw it in his eyes every time he touched me. Felt it in the bond that sings low in my chest.

He is mine.

And I am finally, officially, about to be his.

The clearing is lit with lanterns and lined with wolves in human form, standing in silence. When I step onto the path, their heads turn. The dress clings to my legs, catching just enough air to billow like smoke. I hear murmurs—beautiful, strong, finally—and I hold my chin higher.

I reach the altar.

Darius isn’t there yet.

Strange.

But I stay poised. There’s no panic. Not yet.

The Elder nods to me in greeting. “You look radiant.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, voice clear, heart steady.

Then the crowd parts. Footsteps. His scent hits me before I see him—cedar and frost. My lungs draw it in instinctively.

Darius walks out from the trees, tall and composed, dressed in ceremonial black. A dagger belt cinches around his waist, the Alpha sigil glinting against his chest.

But something’s wrong.

He’s not looking at me.

He’s looking at someone behind me.

I follow his gaze.

Mira. Standing near the front, her hair slicked back into a gleaming braid, lips stained crimson. She isn’t supposed to be up here. She’s not part of the circle. She—

Darius steps past me.

No.

He doesn’t even pause. Doesn’t touch my hand. Doesn’t smile.

My stomach drops.

“Darius,” I say, soft but sure, a reminder—of where we are, of what this is.

He turns then. Looks me in the eye. There’s nothing there.

No warmth. No regret. Just cold.

“I can’t do this,” he says.

The Elder frowns. “Alpha—?”

“I reject Raelin Thorne as my mate and Luna.”

Silence.

I don’t move.

“I declare her unfit to stand beside me.”

My breath leaves me in a hard punch. Not a gasp. Not a cry.

But the kind of stillness you reach after being gutted.

The clearing is too quiet. The trees, the wind, the lanterns—all waiting. Watching.

Mira walks forward. Slides her hand into Darius’s. She does it slowly, deliberately. She wants me to see it.

I do.

And still, I don’t move.

The bond in my chest twists, sharp and real. Not broken. Not yet.

Because bonds don’t just snap like twigs. They rot. Decay. Die slow deaths in silence.

My fingers curl at my sides. I meet Darius’s eyes and wait—for what, I don’t even know. An apology? Hesitation? Something to show this hurts him, too.

But he doesn’t flinch.

He holds Mira’s hand like it belongs there.

And now the whispers start. The murmurs. The disbelief.

I hear my name. I hear “rejected”. I hear “Luna no more.”

I lift my chin.

I look at Mira. Her smile is made of honey and poison.

I smile back. No teeth. Just steel.

I don’t scream. I don’t run.

Instead, I turn.

And I walk off the altar in silence, every step echoing louder than any roar.

Behind me, the mating bond pulses once more in my chest.

But it won’t for long.

Not after this.