Cerys

"Under your guidance, Moon Goddess."

As whispering for the morning sky, the crisp air kissed my face. I revved up my beloved Ducati sports bike, heading toward the mating hall. The roar of its engine, a signature of its fiery red body, echoed through the serene village of Silverwood on the outskirts of the Silverridge Pack. Today was a momentous day—the day Ryker Vaughn and I would seal our bond at our mating ceremony.

I parked my bike in front of the grand hall with a confident flourish. As my boots touched the ground, I removed my helmet, letting my long, slightly auburn wavy hair fall freely around me. I could feel the weight of eyes on me—some filled with admiration, others tinged with curiosity.

"Stay calm, Cerys," I murmured to myself, taking a deep, steadying breath. My heart pounded in my chest—not from fear but from the sheer joy of what lay ahead.

The moment I stepped inside, Niamh, my ever-energetic best friend, rushed to greet me. She was juggling a handful of pins and appeared to be in her usual whirlwind of activity.

"You’re finally here!" she exclaimed, giving me a once-over. "Cerys, you haven’t even changed yet!"

I chuckled softly. "I wanted to enjoy the ride first. Besides, I couldn’t show up to a day this big without making a little statement, could I?"

Minutes later, I stood before a large mirror, clad in the elegant white gown Niamh had carefully helped me into. As I took in my reflection, a wave of nerves washed over me.

"Do I look alright?" I asked, half-hoping she’d calm my jittery thoughts.

"You’re stunning, Cerys. Truly," she said warmly, her smile radiating reassurance. "Ryker won’t know what hit him when he sees you walking down the aisle."

Her words brought a blush to my cheeks. It felt surreal. Ryker Vaughn, the respected Beta’s son admired by so many, had chosen me to spend his life with. He’d always promised me our happiness would be real, and I believed him wholeheartedly.

Before I could respond, a sharp knock broke the tranquility of the room. I turned toward the door, a strange unease creeping into my chest. An omega entered hurriedly, her expression tense and uneasy.

"Miss Cerys… I bring urgent news," she said, her voice trembling.

"I’m sorry, miss," she repeated, her voice wavering. "It’s important."

The world seemed to tilt as her words struck. My father, Alpha Reiner, had passed away suddenly from a heart attack.

"This has to be a joke, right?" I whispered, my voice shaking as the truth clawed at my heart. My chest tightened, and the tears I had tried to hold back brimmed in my eyes.

The omega shook her head, her face etched with sorrow. "No, miss. The pack’s doctor has confirmed it. We are all deeply sorry."

I stood frozen, unable to process what I had just heard. Niamh wrapped her arms around me, trying to provide comfort, but I was too stunned to respond. The bright, beautiful world of the morning now felt like it was crumbling into darkness.

"This… can’t be," I murmured, staring blankly at the floor. My father—the strength of the Silverridge Pack—was gone, without warning or farewell. My legs weakened beneath me, and only Niamh’s steady grip kept me upright.

The mating ceremony planned for that evening was immediately put on hold. The pack members and guests were asked to remain in the hall for further announcements. Meanwhile, I sat numbly in the preparation room, trying to gather enough strength to face this cruel new reality.

But the pain didn’t stop there. When I decided to seek out Ryker for some semblance of solace, the sound of commotion from the main hall stopped me in my tracks. His voice, sharp and unyielding, echoed through the crowd.

"Enough! I can’t keep pretending anymore!"

I hesitated at the door, peering through a crack to see Ryker standing in the center of the room, surrounded by confused guests. Beside him stood a woman I recognized all too well—Mollie de Jesus. My body froze as my gaze locked on her face. Mollie was Ryker’s ex, a name I had heard before, though Ryker had assured me their relationship was long over.

"Mollie is my chosen mate," Ryker declared firmly, his voice resonating throughout the hall. "Not Cerys."

The air buzzed with gasps and whispers as the crowd reacted. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. Had I truly just heard him say that?

"Ryker, what are you doing?" one of the Elders demanded, his tone stern. "This ceremony is a cornerstone of unity for the pack. You can’t just call it off!"

Ryker stood his ground, his face betraying no regret. "I know this isn’t what you all expected," he said evenly. "But I can’t spend my life with someone who isn’t my true mate. Mollie is everything to me. I choose her. I, Ryker Vaughn, rejected Cerys Ortega as my mate."

His words were like daggers, each one striking deeper into my heart. My hands trembled as I clutched at the doorframe for support, trying to steady myself as the world spun around me.

I remained frozen behind the door, too shattered to step inside. My body felt weak, as though every ounce of strength had drained away. Tears I had fought so hard to hold back now streamed freely down my face.

"Niamh…" I whispered hoarsely.

Niamh, standing just behind me, immediately pulled me into a tight embrace. "That bastard doesn’t deserve you," she said gently but firmly. "Let’s leave, Cerys. You don’t have to face this."

I wanted to follow her advice, but my feet wouldn’t move. Inside the hall, Ryker stood with the woman he had chosen—a woman who wasn’t me. Every dream, every hope, and every moment of happiness I had envisioned crumbled in an instant.

That night, I sat at the edge of my bed, still wearing the white gown that now felt like a prison. The images of Ryker and Mollie replayed endlessly in my mind, his cruel words echoing in my ears and breaking my heart piece by piece.

With trembling hands, I reached for the delicate pendant my father had given me days before the ceremony. It was a symbol of our pack’s strength, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind—now painfully hollow without him.

"Dad, what should I do?" I whispered into the suffocating silence.

But there was no answer. Only the stillness of the night remained, amplifying the ache in my chest.

That night, I made a promise to myself. If life had shattered me today, I would not let it keep me broken. Someday, I would rise—not for Ryker, not for Mollie, but for myself and for the pride that had been stolen from me.

Cerys

My reflection in the cracked mirror across the room stared back at me with hollow eyes. I wasn’t the Luna they wanted. I wasn’t the mate Ryker chose. I wasn’t enough.

But if this pack didn’t want me, then I wouldn’t stay.

I had to leave.

I packed my things hastily, my movements fueled by a mixture of anger and despair. A small duffel bag held everything I owned—a couple of clothes, a few mementos, and the pendant my father had given me.

Clutching the pendant tightly, I whispered, “I’m sorry, Dad. I have to go. I, Cerys Ortega, daughter of Alpha Reiner Ortega, sever my connection with the Silverridge pack.”

With that, I slipped out of the pack house with my bike. The Silverridge Pack’s territory was eerily silent, save for the occasional howling of distant wolves. I avoided the main roads, sticking to the shadows as I made my way to the border. Each throttle was heavy, as though the land itself was trying to hold me back.

‘Cerys, are you sure about this?’

The Niamh’s question echoed in my mind, but the answer came swiftly. Yes, I was sure. Staying meant facing more ridicule, more judgment. Staying meant letting them win.

The moment I crossed the boundary of the Silverridge territory, a strange sense of liberation washed over me. The bond to my pack, faint as it had become after Ryker’s betrayal, snapped entirely. It hurt, like a thread being ripped out of my soul, but it also freed me.

I didn’t know where I was going, but anywhere was better than here.

The ride was grueling. Days turned into nights, and nights into days as I traversed unfamiliar lands. With nothing but my instincts to guide me, I wandered through dense roads, crossed bridges, and passed abandoned human towns.

Every mile brought with it a new challenge. Hunger gnawed at me, and exhaustion clawed at my resolve, but I pressed on. Whenever the pain threatened to overwhelm me, I reminded myself why I was doing this—why I had to keep moving forward.

Ryker’s words played in my mind like a broken record: “Mollie is my mate, not Cerys.” The memory of his cold eyes, the dismissiveness in his tone, and the smug smile on Mollie’s face fueled my determination.

It wasn’t just Ryker, though. It was everything—years of feeling inadequate, whispers behind my back that I wasn’t strong enough, graceful enough, or wise enough to be a Luna. Even my father, who had always believed in me, hadn’t been able to shield me from the judgmental stares of the pack.

I shook off the thoughts and focused on the road ahead.

It was on the seventh day of my ride when I reached a place I hadn’t expected to find: the territory of the Crimson Claw Pack.

Crimson Claw was a name spoken with a mix of respect and caution. Known for its fierce warriors and some riders, it was one of the strongest packs in the region. Alpha Justice Valenzuela ruled with a firm but fair hand, and his warriors and riders were said to be unmatched in skill.

Standing at the edge of the Crimson Claw border, I hesitated. Could I start over here? Would they even accept packless she wolf like me?

I took a deep breath and stepped across the invisible line. Almost immediately, two warriors appeared from the shadows, their eyes sharp and assessing.

“Who are you, and what is your business here?” one of them demanded, his voice deep and commanding.

“My name is Cerys Ortega,” I replied, keeping my tone steady despite the fear twisting in my stomach. “I’ve left my pack. I seek refuge and a chance to prove myself as a rider.”

The warriors exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Finally, the taller one nodded. “Follow us. You’ll speak to the Alpha.”

My heart raced as I trailed behind them, the weight of my decision settling heavily on my shoulders. This was it—my chance to start anew.

The Crimson Claw territory was vastly different from Silverridge. The pack’s downtown was bustling, with wolves of all ranks working together seamlessly. Despite the order and discipline evident in every corner, there was a warmth here that Silverridge had lacked.

We reached a city hall at the heart of the territory. Inside, Alpha Justice Valenzuela sat on a raised platform, his presence commanding yet oddly comforting. He was tall, with broad shoulders and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through me.

“Kneel,” one of the warriors instructed. I obeyed, lowering myself to one knee and bowing my head.

“State your name and purpose,” Alpha Justice said, his voice deep and steady.

“My name is Cerys Ortega,” I began, forcing my voice to remain firm. “I come from the Silverridge Pack. I have no pack now, no rank. I’ve been betrayed by those I trusted most.” My voice cracked slightly, but I pressed on. “I seek a new beginning. I wish to train as a rider under your authority.”

The Alpha studied me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he spoke. “You’re either very brave or very desperate to come here alone, with nothing but your name and a plea.”

“I am both,” I admitted.

A flicker of something—approval?—crossed his face. “Very well. You’ll be tested. If you prove your skill, you’ll have a place here. If not, you’ll be free to leave, but only after we’re certain you pose no threat to this pack.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” I said, bowing my head once more.

As I was led to temporary quarters, a strange sense of hope blossomed within me. I wasn’t sure what awaited me in Crimson Claw, but for the first time in days, I felt like I had a chance to reclaim my life.

This wasn’t the end—it was only the beginning.

Justice

I stood on the balcony, observing the training field growing busier with warriors and riders. The morning air was biting, yet it didn’t deter them from their routines. My gaze fixed on one figure among them—Cerys. She was smaller than most riders, a woman whose movements were still stiff as she wielded her weapon. And yet, there was something in the way she persisted, a resilience that was impossible to ignore.

I heard Beta Marcus approaching behind me. “She won’t last long,” he remarked, his eyes following mine.

I didn’t reply, only raised an eyebrow. They all doubted her—a former Luna candidate trying to become a rider at Crimson Claw. They didn’t know the full story of what had happened to her, and I only had fragmented pieces of it myself. But I knew one thing: she wasn’t here to give up.

From my vantage point, I watched Cerys struggle to master the combination of her motorcycle and handgun. Her bike moved at a moderate speed, weaving through obstacles made of steel barrels. Now and then, the rear wheel skidded, but she quickly regained her balance, though her movements were awkward. Beads of sweat rolled down her temple, dampening her auburn hair, which clung to her forehead.

At one point, she stopped momentarily, taking a deep breath before continuing. Drawing the handgun strapped to her hip, she aimed at wooden targets at the end of the course. One shot missed widely, striking the ground. A few chuckles echoed from the sidelines, but Cerys didn’t waver.

She lowered her gun, revved her bike, and sped back onto the track. At a sharp turn, her body leaned slightly too far to the left, causing the bike to wobble dangerously. Yet, she managed to steady the handlebars quickly, straightening herself and refocusing. Later, she halted at a smaller obstacle, raised the handgun again, and this time, her shot hit the target, though it didn’t land in the center.

Her face showed no satisfaction, but determination radiated from her. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her arm, holstered the gun, and prepared to ride again. Her gestures were rough, a bit clumsy, but I could see her effort to maintain a tough exterior in front of the werewolves watching.

Then, she fell. Her bike tipped, and her weapon clattered to the ground with a loud thud. A few riders laughed softly, but I watched as she rose without hesitation, dusting herself off. She retrieved the weapon and righted her motorcycle, climbing back onto it with a fierce resolve.

“Enough,” I finally said, my voice cutting through the laughter. The training field fell silent, all eyes turning to me. “Cerys, come with me.”

She looked at me, hesitation flickering in her eyes, but she obeyed, stepping away from the group and following me to a secluded corner of the field.

I studied her as she stood before me, trying to mask the exhaustion evident in her posture. “Why are you pushing yourself like this?” I asked directly.

She lifted her gaze to meet mine, her eyes cold and guarded. “Am I not allowed to try?”

Her flat tone tugged at the corner of my mouth, almost coaxing a smile. “This isn’t about permission. I want to know your reason.”

She shifted her focus away, her eyes drifting toward the trees beyond the field. I saw her wrestling with an answer, but all she said was, “My reasons are my own, Alpha.”

Her response was sharp yet tinged with bitterness, and I could sense there was more beneath the surface—a wound yet to heal. I resisted the urge to press further. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” I said, trying a gentler approach.

She let out a small, bitter laugh that stung more than it should have. “Sometimes, the only person you can rely on is yourself.”

Her words settled heavily in my chest. I wanted to say something, but the way she closed herself off again made me realize this conversation wouldn’t go anywhere. I gave her a slight nod, allowing her to return to her training.

I watched her walk away, her back straight and proud despite the weight she clearly carried. There was something about her that lingered in my mind, refusing to let go.

That night, I sat in my study, trying to focus on the day’s reports. But Cerys’s image haunted my thoughts. The way she spoke, her unwavering determination, and that bitter smile—all of it played over and over in my mind.

I sighed, setting down the pen I had been using to scribble aimlessly on a blank sheet of paper. “Am I pitying her?” I murmured to myself. But no, this wasn’t pity. This feeling was deeper, more complex.

I rubbed my temples, trying to suppress the thoughts that began to surface. She was new here, someone who simply wanted to prove herself. So why did I feel like she was more than that?

From my desk, I could see the riders’ and warriors’ quarters. That’s where she would be now, likely tending to her wounds from today’s training. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. But somehow, she had managed to take up residence in my thoughts in a way I couldn’t explain.

I sighed again, staring out the window. “Cerys…” I murmured, her name strange yet familiar on my lips. There was something about her—something that made me want to know more, even if I knew it might only lead to trouble.