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.

Aveline’s POV

I couldn’t sleep that night. No matter how tightly I pulled the sheets around me, the memory of what I had witnessed in the woods clawed at my mind. The sound of bones snapping, the sheer violence of the fight, and then that moment—those glowing eyes meeting mine, and the shiver that rolled down my spine like fire and frost combined.

My mate.

The word made me sick.

I sat at the edge of my bed, my fingers curled into the sheets. How can the Moon Goddess be so cruel? Of all the wolves, of all the men in the world… why him? A killer. A lycan who had no mercy, who tore down another of his own kind before my eyes.

I didn’t even see his human face. I had no name, no voice to attach to him. Just his wolf—massive, dark, and terrifyingly strong. A beast that made my heart stutter with fear and something I hated to acknowledge: recognition.

I pressed my palm over my chest as if I could crush that bond before it rooted deeper. No. I wouldn’t accept it. I didn’t need a mate, not after everything. Especially not one drenched in blood.

By morning, Thorndike was in uproar. News of the lycan’s death spread fast. I heard it from the halls before I even stepped out of my room. The pack house buzzed with whispers, with warriors rushing in and out, with my mother’s sharp commands ringing down the corridors.

When I entered the dining hall, my parents were already waiting. Luna Grecia’s eyes were stern but softened when she saw me. Father’s jaw was set tight, the way it always was when he was preparing for conflict.

“Aveline,” my mother said as I sat down, though I had no appetite. “You look pale. Did you not sleep?”

“I couldn’t,” I admitted. “Because… I saw it happen.”

Both of them froze.

Father’s voice was immediate, commanding. “You saw the fight?”

I nodded, throat dry. “I went for a walk near the woods last night. I didn’t mean to—” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. “One of the lycans you took in… he was killed. I saw it. I saw everything.”

My mother leaned forward. “Tell us. Every detail.”

So I did. I told them about the fight, about the sheer dominance of the killer wolf, about how easily he overpowered the other. My voice trembled when I described the moment he turned his glowing eyes on me. I didn’t say what else I felt, not the burning pull of the mate bond that nearly dropped me to my knees. That was mine to carry—and mine to bury.

When I finished, my father’s hand slammed against the table, rattling the plates. “Unacceptable. Thorndike offers sanctuary, not a battlefield. The lycans will answer for this.”

“They’ll claim it’s a private matter between their kind,” my mother said sharply. “But not when it happens on our lands. Not when it endangers one of our own.”

I swallowed. “You’re… you’re calling the lycan leaders?”

“Yes,” Father said without hesitation. “An emergency meeting is already being arranged. If one of their princes has lost control, we’ll know soon enough.”

I lowered my gaze, blood rushing in my ears. A prince.

The rumors I’d overheard days ago surfaced—two princes, the younger whispered to be the evil one. Could it be…?

I shook my head violently. No. I wouldn’t even think it.

“I don’t need a man in my life,” I muttered, more to myself than to them.

My mother’s eyes softened. She reached over and squeezed my hand. “You don’t, child. You’re strong enough on your own.”

I clung to those words like a lifeline.

That evening, the entire pack house was on edge. Guards patrolled every entrance, and the meeting hall was prepared for the lycans’ arrival. The scent of tension hung heavy in the air, burnt wood from the torches, the iron tang of sharpened blades, the restless energy of wolves preparing for confrontation.

I stood near the back of the hall, my parents at the front. Warriors flanked the walls. My heart pounded harder with each passing second.

Then the doors opened.

The lycans entered, one by one. They were taller, broader, carrying that aura of raw power that made even seasoned warriors stiffen. Their presence filled the room like a stormcloud, suffocating and impossible to ignore.

And then it happened.

The moment they stepped inside, something in the air shifted. My breath caught in my throat, and my wolf inside me—restless, aching—rose with a low growl I couldn’t contain. My body trembled, my heart pounding so loud I thought the entire hall could hear it.

He was here.

I lifted my gaze, and there he was among them.

The second lycan prince.

The bond slammed into me with full force, stronger than before, undeniable. My chest tightened as his scent hit me—wild forest, storm winds, danger wrapped in something inexplicably intoxicating.

Our eyes met.

Cold, piercing eyes that gave nothing away. He looked at me as though I were just another face in the crowd, but I felt it. I knew he felt it too. The bond shimmered between us, an invisible chain locking us together.

My lips parted, but no words came.

It’s him. My mate. The killer.

The room around us blurred, voices muffled as if I were underwater. All I could focus on was him.

And yet, he didn’t falter. He didn’t flinch. His expression was carved from ice, his posture proud and unyielding. If he felt the bond, he didn’t show it.

But his eyes didn’t leave mine. Not for a second.

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Of all wolves, of all men—the Moon Goddess tied me to a murderer, to a prince who had spilled blood on our lands.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to deny it.

Instead, I stood frozen, locked in his gaze, as my parents began the meeting with heavy accusations and demands.

And all I could think was: I don’t need a mate. Not him. Not ever.