I moved to the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Outside, clouds gathered on the horizon—thick, dark masses that promised either rain or simply more gloom. The grounds of the Elder estate stretched before me, immaculate gardens and stone paths leading to buildings that had stood for centuries. This place had been my sanctuary—not home, never that, but safer than where I was being sent.
And yet... my magic reacted to him. Even from this distance. Even through anger and betrayal. The silver light pulsed in time with my heartbeat, responding to emotions I didn't want to acknowledge.
Because the bond was never fully severed.
The realization wasn't new, but it hit me with renewed force. I'd been feeling him through it for days—his pain, his confusion, his building rage. I'd told myself it was just echoes. Just remnants that would fade with time.
Because he never let go.
That was the truth that burned most deeply. For all his rejection, for all his cruelty, some part of him—his wolf, perhaps—still clung to the bond. Still refused to release it completely.
And neither did I.
I looked down at my hands, watching the silver light dance across my skin. This power had come from pain—his pain. Our pain. The broken bond had transformed me, made me something new, something dangerous. A Moon Healer who could mend or destroy with equal ease.
What would he see when he looked at me now? Would he recognize what he'd created? Would he fear it?
I dressed slowly.
Not because I wanted to impress him.
Because I wanted to look like the girl who survived him.
I chose a muted black cloak from the wardrobe—simple but elegant, embroidered faintly with silver thread that shimmered when the light caught it. Nothing flashy. Nothing regal. But strong. Whole.
Not omega rags.
Not something he'd overlook this time.
I braided my hair back from my face in a severe style that emphasized my cheekbones, the lines of my jaw. No softness there. No vulnerability. Just sharp edges to match his own.
As I dressed, I couldn't help wondering what awaited me at Crescent Hall. Had his condition worsened? Was he dying, as I'd felt through the bond? Was this a desperate attempt to fix what he'd broken?
Or was it something worse—a ploy to control me now that my powers had manifested? Had word reached him about what I'd become?
I slid a small dagger into the sheath at my waist—not that it would help against an Alpha, but the weight of it was comforting. A reminder that I wasn't defenseless anymore.
Not physically.
Not magically.
Not emotionally.
By the time the hour passed, the sun had dipped low enough to cast long shadows over the Elder Hall. A thick, moody fog had rolled in from the river that curled behind the estate, wrapping the outer steps in a curtain of silver mist.
It suited the moment. Nature itself setting the stage for what was to come—veiling the world in uncertainty, in half-seen shapes and whispered promises.
Two Keepers stood on either side of an expensive car. Not one of the Council's modest vehicles, but something sleek and black, with curved lines and polished chrome that gleamed even in the dim evening light. The wolves harnessed to it were equally impressive—sleek, massive, and silent, their coats a midnight black that absorbed the light rather than reflected it. Their eyes glowed faintly as they waited, still as statues, trained to perfection.
Crescent Fang wolves. Kael's personal guard, no doubt.
The door of the car stood open, revealing a glimpse of luxurious interior. An invitation. A command.
I hesitated only for a second before stepping inside, refusing to show fear or reluctance. The Keepers exchanged glances as I passed, their expressions carefully blank, but I could smell their concern—sharp and acrid beneath the formal scents of ceremonial oils.
They were worried for me.
Or perhaps worried about what I might do.
The interior was surprisingly warm, lined in deep charcoal velvet that seemed to absorb sound, creating a cocoon of silence. The seats were soft leather, butter-smooth to the touch. Everything spoke of wealth, of power, of attention to detail.
And a faint scent lingered that made my stomach turn.
Smoke. Pine. Leather.
Kael.
He'd prepared this himself.
Of course he had. Alpha to his core, controlling every aspect of this encounter, from the summons to the transportation. Making sure I arrived on his terms. In his vehicle. Surrounded by his scent.
I leaned back against the seat, forcing my breathing to remain steady. The door closed with a soft click, sealing me in darkness broken only by the faint blue glow of hidden lights along the floor. The car began to move, smooth and silent.
The journey wasn't long, but it was thick with silence.
I watched through tinted windows as the Elder estate gave way to forest, then to the outskirts of Crescent territory. The fog grew thicker as we approached, curling around ancient trees like spectral fingers. Occasionally, I caught glimpses of wolves moving through the mist—sentries patrolling the borders, their eyes flashing in the gathering darkness.
I would not let my powers flare inside a space he chose.
I would not give him that satisfaction.
But the closer we got, the more the air shifted.
Magic lingered in the trees. The wards of his estate. The invisible command of territory marking and Alpha energy. It brushed against my senses like pressure—subtle, but building. Like descending underwater, the weight increasing with every foot of depth.
By the time the car slowed and stopped, I felt like I'd stepped into a storm I hadn't dressed for. The bonds and markers of his territory pressed against my skin, recognizing me as both belonging and foreign. The contradiction made my head spin slightly.
The door opened.
Mist curled inside the car, cool and damp against my skin, carrying the earthy scent of wet stone and pine. The evening had deepened while we traveled, the sky now a dark canvas painted with the first stars.
And through the mist, I saw him.
Kael stood at the top of the stone steps leading into Crescent Hall—tall, sharp, and motionless. Cloaked in black that matched the night around him, he looked carved from shadow itself. No warriors. No guards. No Beta or Delta flanking him as protocol demanded.
Just him.
Waiting.
I stepped out slowly, boots crunching on gravel, head high. The silver light inside me responded immediately to his presence, surging upward like a tide, pressing against my skin from within. I forced it down, refusing to show how much his mere presence affected me.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
But the bond between us tightened, pulling taut like a string about to snap. I could feel his awareness of me—sharp, focused, almost predatory in its intensity. His eyes, those ice-blue shards that had once looked at me with desire before turning cold with rejection, now burned with something I couldn't name.
My heart stuttered. My wolf rose like a question, pressing against the cage of my ribs, suddenly alert and wary.
Not in longing.
Not in fear.
In readiness.
Let him see the power he abandoned.
I straightened my shoulders, letting the cloak fall open slightly to reveal the silver embroidery that matched the light now faintly visible beneath my skin. Let him see what had become of the woman he thought too weak to stand at his side. Let him face the consequence of his cruelty.
Let him choke on it.
I walked toward him through the mist, every step deliberate. The gravel path gave way to stone steps—ancient, worn smooth by centuries of wolf feet. Lanterns flickered along the path, their light distorted by the fog, creating halos of amber in the silver mist.
His eyes never left mine.
And for the first time since the Ceremony…
He looked like the one who couldn't breathe.
Kael Blackthorn—Alpha of the Crescent Fang, terror of the Northern Territories, man who had rejected me before gods and wolves alike—stood frozen at the top of his own steps. His chest barely moved with breath. His hands, usually so controlled, curled into loose fists at his sides. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
As I climbed the last step, bringing us to the same level, I noticed the changes in him. Subtle, but unmistakable to eyes that had once memorized every line of his face.
Shadows beneath his eyes, deeper than before. A gauntness to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the Ceremony. His skin, always pale, now had an almost translucent quality, the veins at his temples visible beneath.
He was suffering, just as I'd felt through the bond.
And now I was here, standing before him—neither supplicant nor savior.
Just waiting to see which of us would break first.