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.