Alaric’s POV

I could hardly breathe when the whispers reached me.

The omega servant stammered the words like she was afraid they’d slice my chest open, “Alpha… Lady Aveline… she’s gone. Burned in the garden.”

For a moment, I thought my ears deceived me. No—my mind refused to accept it. I stood there frozen, but my wolf stirred violently inside me, howling and thrashing against my ribs.

“No,” I muttered, shaking my head, clenching my fists.

But the look in her terrified eyes told me it wasn’t a jest.

My legs carried me before I even realized it, storming out into the garden with dread clawing up my throat. The scent of ash and char filled my lungs the moment I stepped outside. Wolves murmured, scattered about with their heads low, avoiding my gaze.

And then I saw it.

The earth was blackened, still smoking faintly, and there among the cinders lay a shape—small, scorched beyond recognition. My heart dropped into a pit so deep it felt endless.

Beside it, half-buried in the ashes, was a necklace. Her necklace. The one I gave Aveline when I swore I would never let her feel alone again.

My knees buckled. I stumbled forward, my hands trembling as I picked it up, its chain burnt and warped, the pendant charred but unmistakable.

“No…” My voice cracked, my chest squeezing so hard I could hardly get air. “Aveline…”

My wolf wailed inside me, the sound so raw I nearly doubled over. I wanted to deny it, to rage and demand proof, but the truth was burning in front of me.

She was gone.

And I had done this.

I sank to the ground, numb, my hands shaking around the broken necklace. My breath came ragged. My vision blurred with tears I didn’t even know I still had in me. My heart was breaking open, bleeding memories. Aveline’s laughter. The fire in her eyes when she challenged me. The warmth of her touch when she carried my pup inside her.

I should have been at her side. I should have fought for her. Instead, I let lies and schemes take root. I chose Elowen. And now… now there was nothing left.

“Aveline…” I whispered her name like a prayer, but the wind only carried smoke.

I didn’t know how long I knelt there before I heard footsteps. Elowen. Her scent reached me even before her soft voice did.

“Alpha…” She crouched beside me, her hand reaching for my arm. “Don’t… don’t look at it anymore. Come inside. Please.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Her hand rested lightly against my shoulder, but it felt like ash against my skin. I flinched away, eyes still fixed on the ruin before me. Words choked me, trapped in my throat.

“She’s gone,” I finally rasped, the words tasting like venom.

Elowen’s breath hitched, but she tried to sound soothing. “You… you still have me.”

I turned to her then, and the look in her eyes startled her into silence. Because I saw it, clear as the flames that consumed Aveline—this was the cost of my betrayal. I had planned to return to Aveline once Elowen’s illness had run its course. I thought time would wait for me, that I could twist fate to my liking.

But fate had burned her alive before I could crawl back.

And I had no one to blame but myself.

The funeral was held the next day. The air was heavy, the pack cloaked in black. The wolves gathered, heads bowed as the pyre was lit anew. They spoke of Aveline as though she had been nothing but a troublesome she-wolf, a fiancée who had lost her way. Lies. All lies.

I stood apart, the flames reflecting in my eyes, burning the hollow inside me.

I hadn’t wept openly in years, but now I couldn’t stop. I let my pack see me on my knees, fists pressed to the earth, shoulders shaking. My wolf howled in mourning, echoing through the bond, raw and unrestrained. They were wondering why me—Theo—was weeping like I lost my other half.

I realized, in that merciless firelight, just how much I loved her still.

I had convinced myself otherwise, let myself be led by guilt, duty, and Elowen’s fragility. But Aveline, she was supposed to be my luna, my true heart. Every memory of her burned sharper than any blade. Her stubbornness, her courage, even the way she looked at me when she was angry, it was all gone, and I would never hear her voice again.

Elowen stood behind me, her hand brushing my arm, whispering, “You’re not alone, Alpha. I’m here.”

I didn’t move. My chest was stone.

Her words rang hollow. Because no matter how she clung to me, I couldn’t feel anything. Not warmth. Not comfort. Only regret so sharp it carved me open.

If I hadn’t agreed to Elowen’s plan, if I hadn’t staged my death to be with her, none of this would have happened. Aveline wouldn’t have spiraled. She wouldn’t have been left to suffer, to abort our pup, to stand alone against whispers and cruelty.

I had destroyed her.

After the funeral, I shut myself away. I didn’t want Elowen near me. I didn’t want anyone. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the flames, heard Aveline’s voice, remembered the feel of her hand in mine the night I first swore I’d never leave her.

But I had left her.

I became cold to Elowen. Her gentle touches, her attempts at comfort, they turned my stomach. My wolf snarled at her presence, a beast that wanted nothing to do with the woman I had sacrificed everything for.

“Alpha,” she whispered one night, tears brimming in her eyes. “Why won’t you look at me? I… I need you.”

“You need me?” I finally snapped, my voice breaking. “She needed me. And I wasn’t there.”

Elowen flinched, shrinking back. “I never meant for this—”

“Don’t.” My voice was ice. “Don’t speak her name. You will never understand what you cost me.”

I left her there, sobbing softly in the shadows. I didn’t care. Because the truth was simple, cruel, and unchangeable.

Aveline was gone. And I had loved her too late.

That night, I sat alone in the garden where the fire had claimed her. The scorched earth still smelled faintly of smoke. I clutched the charred necklace in my hand until it cut into my palm.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the night, though no one would answer. “If there is a moon beyond this sky, if there’s a place where your spirit roams, hear me, Aveline. I was a fool. And I’ll never forgive myself.”

The wind stirred, cold against my face. My wolf curled into himself, silent in his grief.

And I knew then that no matter how long I lived, no matter how strong I became, I would carry this regret until the day the Moon Goddess called me home.

Aveline’s POV

I could barely recognize myself when I finally stepped foot back into Thorndike territory. My body was weak, my spirit even weaker, but what truly weighed me down was the betrayal festering in my chest like a poisoned wound. Every breath tasted of ash, and every memory of Alaric burned like fire in my veins.

I almost married that man. I almost gave my life, my future, my heart, all of me, to someone who could stage his death and walk away as if I were nothing.

Coward. Liar. Betrayer.

The words looped in my head until I felt sick.

I told myself that faking my death had been the only way out of that hellhole. And it was true. But truth didn’t soothe the bitterness. No, it sharpened it. I had been driven to such an extreme because of Alaric, because of Elowen, because of the Vandolph Pack that coddled lies and drowned me in humiliation.

I would never forgive him. Not in this lifetime.

As I crossed the familiar gates of Thorndike, the scent of pine and mountain air hit me, wrapping me in the comfort of home. This was where I belonged, where my blood ran deep into the soil. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until now.

The first person I saw was my mother, Luna Grecia. She rushed toward me the moment her eyes landed on me, her face wet with tears. “Aveline!” Her voice broke as she pulled me into her arms, clutching me as if she’d never let go again.

“Mother,” I whispered, my throat tightening. I hadn’t cried since I left Vandolph, but now, against her embrace, my dam nearly broke.

“My child, my sweet girl,” she murmured into my hair. “You’re home. You’re safe now.”

Behind her, my father, Alpha Gregory, stood tall. But even an Alpha’s stoic mask couldn’t hide the way his eyes glistened. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, fury rippling through his aura. When I stepped out of Mother’s arms, he came forward and held me by the shoulders.

“They will pay,” he growled. His voice was low, trembling with a dangerous promise. “Vandolph dared to treat my daughter this way, dared to—” He cut himself off, grinding his teeth. “They will have no ties with Thorndike ever again.”

A sob tore from my chest, not because of weakness, but because of relief. “Father…”

“You don’t need to say a word.” His jaw tightened, but his eyes softened when he looked at me. “You’re home now, Aveline. That’s all that matters.”

I nodded, though anger still gnawed at me. “I can’t believe I almost—” My voice cracked. “—almost gave my life to Alaric.”

Mother’s arms wrapped around me again, as if shielding me from the very name. “Don’t you speak of him again. He’s not worth your breath.”

“I won’t.” I forced my tears back. “He’ll never see my face again.”

And I meant it. I would never look back. Never meet that man again in my life. Let him rot in his own lies with Elowen clinging to him like a parasite. I was done.

The Thorndike Pack received me with open arms. Wolves I grew up with, warriors who once sparred with me in training, omegas who served in the kitchens—all of them gathered around, offering embraces, smiles, tears of joy. Their happiness at my return was like a balm to my battered soul.

“You should rest,” Mother insisted once the greetings quieted.

But before I could retire, I noticed a group of strangers near the edge of the training grounds. Their scents were different. Stronger, sharper—like steel and storm. Lycans.

I frowned. “Father, why are there lycans here?”

He followed my gaze, his expression unreadable. “They’re not enemies. They came seeking refuge.”

“Refuge?” My brow furrowed. Lycans rarely mingled with packs.

“They’re tired,” Father explained. “Tired of endless battles, of living on the edge every day. You know their kind has been hunted and threatened for decades. Some wanted a quieter life, away from the bloodshed. Thorndike offered them sanctuary.”

Mother nodded in agreement. “They are warriors no less, but even warriors grow weary.”

I studied them from a distance. They were taller, broader, carrying an air of restrained power. Even in stillness, their presence was commanding. I should’ve been wary, but instead, curiosity tugged at me.

“They’re different,” I murmured.

“Different, yes,” Father said. “But they will follow our laws while they stay here. That is all that matters.”

I nodded slowly, though unease lingered. My thoughts wandered to the rumors I had overheard even before returning—rumors about the lycan princes.

Two of them, heirs of a bloodline both feared and revered. The older was said to be the steady one, the one wolves could admire. But the younger… they called him dangerous. Evil. Ruthless.

I pushed the thought aside. Princes and politics had nothing to do with me anymore. I had too much to heal from, too much to rebuild inside myself. I wouldn’t waste a single heartbeat thinking about men—lycan or wolf.

As I finally retreated to my chambers, I sat by the window and stared at the forest stretching out beneath the twilight sky. The moon was rising, silver and solemn. My wolf stirred faintly inside me, weary but alive.

“You’re home,” I whispered to her, to myself.

Yet even in the peace of my own room, rage simmered beneath my skin. Rage at Alaric, at Elowen, at the life they stole from me and the baby they forced me to lose.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, eyes burning. “Never again,” I vowed. “No one will ever break me like that again.”

For the first time since that nightmare, I felt something new stir within me—not weakness, not despair, but resolve. Revengeful, perhaps. But above all, determined.

Aveline’s POV

The sala of the Thorndike packhouse smelled faintly of pinewood and lavender polish, the kind of scent that always reminded me of home. I sat cross-legged on the long couch, the cushions swallowing me whole, my phone still warm in my palm. I shouldn’t have opened the damn thing, I told myself again, but curiosity had gotten the better of me.

Alaric.

The screen was littered with his name. Drunk texts, drunk calls, even voicemails I refused to open. His words were messy, half the letters swapped or missing, like he couldn’t even keep his own fingers steady.

“Ali… I’m sorr… I… shoul’ve never… gods, I still…”

I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. With a sharp exhale, I pulled out the tiny SIM card and stared at it resting in my hand. This little chip was the last thread tying me to him, to everything that almost destroyed me.

“Good riddance,” I muttered under my breath.

I stood, crossed the sala, and tossed the SIM into the trash bin near the hearth. My heart felt lighter instantly, as if I’d just cut off a chain that had been dragging me under. Never again. Not in this lifetime. Alaric Vandolph could drink himself into oblivion for all I cared.

That night, restlessness gnawed at me. My wolf paced inside me, unsettled, agitated. The walls of the packhouse felt too close, too suffocating. So I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and slipped out into the night, my bare feet quiet on the earth as I walked toward the woods.

The moon was high, casting silver light through the pines. Crickets sang their endless song, and an owl hooted in the distance. I inhaled deeply, letting the cool air cleanse me, letting it seep into the cracks of my weary soul.

Then I heard it.

A snarl. Sharp, vicious, carrying the promise of blood. My body stiffened, my wolf ears pricking up though I was still in human form.

Another snarl. Louder. Then the thunder of bodies colliding.

I followed the sound, heart pounding, until the trees opened up into a clearing. That’s when I saw them—two wolves locked in a brutal fight.

One was broad and massive, his fur bristling like shadows come alive. The other was smaller, still strong, but compared to the beast towering over him, he looked like prey.

It wasn’t a fight. It was a massacre.

The larger wolf moved with terrifying precision, every strike deliberate, every bite calculated. The smaller wolf’s yelps tore through the clearing, raw with desperation. But within moments, he faltered. Blood sprayed across the grass.

“No,” I gasped, too shocked to move.

With a final snap of powerful jaws, the massive wolf struck the killing blow. The smaller body crumpled, twitching before it stilled. Slowly, painfully, the dead wolf shifted back to human form—a man I recognized. One of the Lycans who had sought refuge in Thorndike. His lifeless eyes stared up at the stars, unseeing.

My stomach twisted. He had been under our roof… and now he was gone. Just like that.

The killer wolf lifted his head. His chest heaved, his muzzle slick with blood. His eyes locked onto me.

I froze. My body screamed at me to run, but my feet rooted themselves to the earth. My wolf inside went wild, howling in a way I had never heard before.

Because in that moment, something shifted.

The bond.

I felt it slam into me like lightning, rushing through my veins, into my very marrow. Heat bloomed in my chest, spreading fast, curling into my fingertips. The mate bond. The unmistakable tether of the Moon Goddess.

My breath caught.

“No,” I whispered. My lips trembled as I said it.

The wolf’s eyes glowed faintly, golden and fierce. He felt it too—I could see it in the way he stilled, the way his massive frame shuddered as though the world had tilted beneath him.

A murderer. The Moon Goddess had tied me to a murderer.

The wolf growled low in his throat, but it wasn’t directed at me. It sounded conflicted, tortured. Then, without another glance, he turned. Muscles rippling under his dark fur, he bounded into the trees and vanished, swallowed by the night.

I stood there, trembling. My lungs burned, but I couldn’t force air in.

“This can’t be real,” I muttered. I pressed a hand to my chest, where the bond still pulsed like a brand.

The murdered Lycan lay before me, blood soaking into the soil. The metallic tang coated the back of my tongue. My wolf whimpered inside me, torn between fury and recognition, between the instinct to mourn and the instinct to chase.

I sank to my knees, staring at the lifeless body, and felt rage claw up my throat. The Moon Goddess must be laughing at me. First Alaric, now this? Was this some kind of curse on my life.

My father’s voice echoed in my head from earlier, “The Lycans are restless. Some seek peace, but not all are to be trusted.”

And here I was, staring at the proof. One Lycan dead. Another, my supposed mate, running into the night with blood on his paws.

When I finally stumbled back toward the packhouse, dawn was beginning to lighten the horizon. My shawl clung to me, damp with night dew and sweat.

Inside, the packhouse was still and quiet. I slipped through the doors and up the stairs to my chamber, my hands still shaking.

I couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet. How could I? Hey, Father, Mother, I just witnessed one of our new guests being slaughtered by my fated mate. No. I would be locked away, pitied, feared.

I gripped the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, my eyes wild, my lips pale.

And all I could think was, the Moon Goddess chose him for me. A killer.

I pressed my forehead to the cool wood of the bedpost, whispering through clenched teeth, “I won’t accept this. I won’t.”

But even as I said it, the bond hummed stubbornly in my chest, reminding me of the truth I didn’t want to carry.

That somewhere out there, in the depths of the Thorndike woods, my mate was running. And he had blood on his hands.