Holden kissed me goodbye that morning like he always did—soft, lingering, his hand cradling the back of my neck. Cedar smoke and winter rain wrapped around me, and for a moment, everything felt right.

"I'll be back by dinner," he said, his grey eyes steady on mine.

"Where are you going?" I asked. I tried to keep my voice light, casual. Like I wasn't asking for the third time this week.

"Just some meetings," he said. "Trying to figure out where we fit in all this."

We. He said we. That should've been enough.

But my wolf whimpered low in my chest.

I watched him leave from the window. He walked with purpose, his shoulders set, like a man who knew exactly where he was going. And he did. He just wasn't telling me.

I pulled my phone out and texted Mckenzie.

*He's gone again.*

Her reply came fast.

*I'm coming over.*

She arrived twenty minutes later with coffee and a look on her face that said she was done being patient.

"Ariella," she said, setting the cups down on my kitchen counter. "We need to talk."

"I know what you're going to say."

"Then you know I'm right."

I wrapped my hands around the warm cup and stared into it. "He's my mate, Kenzie. The Moon Goddess gave him to me. That has to mean something."

"It means you're bonded," Mckenzie said bluntly. "It doesn't mean he's honest."

I flinched.

She softened, just a little. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to protect you. You pulled me out of hell once. Let me return the favor."

"He's not lying," I said. But even as the words left my mouth, they tasted wrong.

Mckenzie leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "Then where is he?"

I didn't answer.

"Exactly," she said quietly.

We sat in silence for a while. Then my phone buzzed.

I picked it up. Unknown number. The message was short.

*Alpha Joseph Morgan wishes to meet his daughter. There are things you deserve to know about your birthright. Come to the cabin on Silvercrest's northeastern border tomorrow at noon. Come alone.*

My heart stopped.

My father. My real father. The Alpha of Silvercrest. The man who had never once reached out to me in my entire life.

And now he wanted to meet.

"What is it?" Mckenzie asked, watching my face.

I handed her the phone.

She read it. Then she looked up at me, and her expression went cold.

"No."

"Kenzie—"

"Absolutely not. This is a trap."

"You don't know that."

"I know enough." She set the phone down hard. "Ariella, listen to me. You don't just get a message like this out of nowhere. Not after a lifetime of silence. Not from an Alpha who displaced you and raised some other girl in your place."

"Maybe he regrets it," I said quietly. "Maybe he wants to make things right."

Mckenzie stared at me. "And maybe he wants you gone."

The words hung in the air between us.

I looked away. "I have to go."

"No, you don't."

"He's my father."

"He's a stranger who happens to share your blood," Mckenzie shot back. "That's not the same thing."

I stood up. "I've spent my whole life wondering why he didn't want me. Why I wasn't good enough. If there's even a chance he has answers—"

"Then I'm coming with you."

"The message said alone."

"I don't care what the message said."

I met her eyes. "Kenzie. Please. If I show up with backup, he'll think I don't trust him. I need him to see that I'm willing to meet him halfway."

She shook her head slowly. "This is a mistake."

"Maybe," I admitted. "But it's mine to make."

Mckenzie was quiet for a long time. Then she pulled me into a hard hug.

"If you're not back by sundown," she said into my hair, "I'm coming after you. And I'm bringing every wolf I know."

"Deal," I whispered.

When Holden came home that night, he smelled like expensive furniture polish and something floral I didn't recognize. He kissed me at the door, his hands warm on my waist.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Good," I lied. "Yours?"

"Productive." He smiled. "I think things are finally starting to come together."

I wanted to ask what things. I wanted to ask where he'd been. I wanted to ask why he smelled like someone else's world.

But I didn't.

Because I was afraid of the answer.

That night, I lay awake beside him, listening to his breathing. His arm was draped over my waist. His scent surrounded me. And my wolf—my wolf, who should've been content, should've been purring—was silent.

I stared at the ceiling and thought about the message.

Tomorrow at noon.

Northeastern border.

Come alone.

I told myself it would be fine. That my father wanted to meet me. That maybe, finally, I'd get the answers I'd been searching for my whole life.

But deep down, in the part of me I didn't want to listen to, I knew.

Something was wrong.

The cabin sat at the edge of Silvercrest territory, half-hidden by pines. I approached slowly, my boots crunching through the snow. The air was still. Too still.

My wolf stirred uneasily.

I reached for the door handle. Before I could touch it, they came.

Six rogues burst from the tree line—coordinated, fast, fanning out to surround me. No hesitation. No warning. They'd been waiting.

I shifted my weight and dropped low as the first one lunged. My fist connected with his jaw. Bone cracked. He went down hard.

The second came from behind. I spun, drove my elbow into his ribs, and felt them give. He stumbled back, wheezing.

But there were four more.

Claws raked across my shoulder. Pain exploded white-hot down my arm. I twisted away, kicked out, caught someone's knee. Another rogue grabbed my hair and yanked. My scalp screamed. I threw my head back, felt the impact, heard him curse.

They were stronger than me. Faster. And they knew exactly what they were doing.

A fist slammed into my stomach. Air left my lungs. I doubled over. Someone kicked my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, snow and dirt grinding into my cheek.

Panic clawed up my throat.

I reached through the mate bond—desperate, instinctive—and screamed his name.

*Holden!*

The bond flared. He was close. I felt him moving, felt him respond, felt the pull of him rushing toward me.

Relief flooded through me so fast it hurt.

He was coming. He would fix this. He would save me.

Footsteps pounded through the snow. The rogues hesitated, heads turning.

Holden broke through the tree line.

I tried to push myself up. Blood ran warm down my arm. My shoulder throbbed. But I smiled—God, I smiled—because he was here.

"Holden—"

His hand cracked across my face.

The world tilted. My cheek exploded in pain. I tasted copper. My lip split open, blood hot on my tongue.

I stared up at him.

He stood over me, chest heaving, grey eyes cold. Colder than I'd ever seen them. Like I was nothing. Like I was a stranger.

"You set this up," he said.

The words didn't make sense.

"What?"

"The attack." His voice was flat. Final. "You orchestrated this to frame the pack. To make yourself look like a victim."

"No." I shook my head. Blood dripped from my chin. "No, I didn't—Holden, I didn't do anything—"

"Don't lie to me."

Movement at the edge of my vision. A figure stepped from the tree line, composed and elegant even in the snow.

London Bell.

She looked at me with soft, sympathetic eyes. The kind of eyes that said she was so, so sorry this had to happen.

"It's over, Ariella," she said gently. "We know everything."

The rogues scattered. Silent. Coordinated. Like they'd been given a signal I couldn't see.

I looked back at Holden. My mate. The wolf the Moon Goddess gave me.

"Please," I whispered. "Please, you have to believe me."

He didn't answer.

London stepped forward and took his arm. Her hand rested on his sleeve like it belonged there. Like she'd done it a thousand times before.

Holden didn't pull away.

Two wolves I didn't recognize grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. Pain shot through my injured shoulder. I bit back a scream.

"Take her to the pack house," London said quietly. "Alpha Joseph is waiting."

They dragged me through the snow. I didn't fight. I couldn't. My body was shutting down, shock and pain and something worse—something breaking inside me that had nothing to do with the wounds.

I looked back once.

Holden stood beside London, watching me go. His face was carved from stone. His scent—cedar smoke and winter rain—drifted toward me on the wind.

It smelled like goodbye.

The judgment chamber was all dark wood and cold stone. Silvercrest's crest hung on the wall behind the Alpha's seat—a silver moon over crossed claws.

Alpha Joseph Morgan sat in that seat now. My father. The man whose blood I carried. The man who had never once looked at me before today.

He looked at me now.

I stood in the center of the room, wrists bound in silver cuffs that burned. Blood had dried on my face. My shoulder screamed with every breath. But I kept my chin up.

London stood to the Alpha's right, poised and perfect. She held a folder—thick, official-looking.

Holden stood beside her.

"Ariella Morgan," Alpha Joseph said. His voice was measured. Tired. "You stand accused of conspiring with rogues to attack pack members and fabricate evidence of persecution."

"I didn't," I said. My voice cracked. "I didn't do any of that."

London opened the folder. She pulled out documents, laid them on the table with careful precision.

"Communications between Ariella and known rogue contacts," she said softly. "Timestamps match the weeks leading up to today's attack. Financial transfers. Meeting locations."

I stared at the papers. I'd never seen them before in my life.

"Those aren't real," I said. "I don't know those people. I've never—"

"The evidence is clear," London interrupted gently. She looked at Alpha Joseph with wide, earnest eyes. "I know this is difficult. But we have to protect the pack."

I turned to my father. "Please. I'm your daughter. Doesn't that mean anything?"

Alpha Joseph's expression didn't change. "If you were truly my daughter, you would never have put this pack at risk."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"I didn't," I whispered. "I swear I didn't."

No one spoke.

I looked at Holden. My mate. The bond between us was still there—faint, muted, but there.

"Holden," I said. "Tell them. Tell them I wouldn't do this."

He met my eyes. For one heartbeat, I thought I saw something flicker. Doubt. Regret.

Then it was gone.

"I'm sorry, Ariella," he said quietly. "But the evidence doesn't lie."

Something inside me shattered.

Alpha Joseph stood. "You are a threat to this pack's security. You will be confined until we determine the full extent of your conspiracy."

"No—" I lunged forward. The guards caught me, slammed me back. Silver burned my wrists. "No, please, you have to listen—"

"Take her to the basement," Alpha Joseph said.

They dragged me from the chamber. I screamed. I fought. I called for Holden through the bond until my voice gave out.

He never answered.

The basement room was small, windowless, locked from the outside. They threw me in and shut the door. The bolt slid home with a sound like finality.

I collapsed against the wall and pressed my bound hands to my mouth.

Somewhere above me, in the world I'd just been ripped from, Mckenzie was trying to reach me. I could feel it—faint, desperate pulses through the cross-pack channels we'd used since we were young.

But Silvercrest's borders were closed. Gamma-level security. London's work, probably.

No one was coming.

I closed my eyes and felt my wolf whimper.

And for the first time since I pulled Holden from the snow, I wondered if the Moon Goddess had made a mistake.

The smoke woke me.

Not the heat. Not the sound. The smoke—thick, acrid, crawling under the basement door like something alive.

I jerked upright. My shoulder screamed where the rogue's claws had torn through. The silver cuffs still burned my wrists. But none of that mattered.

Fire.

I scrambled to the door and pressed my hand against it. Hot. Not burning yet, but close.

"Help!" I shouted. My voice was raw from earlier. "Someone—there's a fire!"

No answer.

I slammed my fists against the wood. Pain shot through my bound wrists. The silver seared deeper.

"Please!" I screamed. "I'm locked in—please!"

Silence. Just the crackle of flames somewhere above, growing louder.

My wolf surged forward. Not gently. Not carefully. She threw herself against the cage of my ribs and *howled*.

I felt her strength flood my limbs—wild, desperate, furious.

I stepped back. Braced. Kicked.

The door shuddered but held.

I kicked again. The wood splintered near the lock.

Again.

The bolt tore free. The door flew open.

Smoke poured in. I choked, covered my mouth with my bound hands, and ran.

The basement hallway was already hazy. Orange light flickered from the stairwell. I took the steps two at a time, lungs burning, eyes streaming.

The first floor was chaos. Flames crawled up the walls. Timber groaned overhead. Somewhere, glass shattered.

I didn't stop.

I hit the main staircase and climbed. The second floor—that's where the private rooms were. That's where people would be trapped.

That's where Holden was.

I felt him through the bond. Faint. Muted. But there.

*Holden!*

I screamed it through the bond with everything I had. My wolf threw her voice behind mine, primal and raw.

*Holden, I'm here—please—*

The bond flared. Just once. A pulse of acknowledgment.

He heard me.

Relief crashed through me so hard I stumbled. He heard me. He was coming.

I pushed forward, coughing, half-blind. The hallway split ahead—left toward the guest wing, right toward the main suites.

I went left. Toward where I felt him.

"Holden!" I choked out loud this time. "Holden, where are you?"

Footsteps. Running. Coming closer.

I stopped, pressed against the wall, trying to see through the smoke.

A figure appeared at the far end of the hall.

Holden.

I nearly sobbed.

He stood there, chest heaving, grey eyes cutting through the haze. For one heartbeat, we just stared at each other.

Then he turned right.

Away from me.

"Holden—" My voice cracked. "Holden, wait—"

I stumbled after him. The smoke was thicker here. The heat unbearable. I saw him stop at the entrance to the main suite hallway.

London sat on the floor, one leg stretched out in front of her. Her face was pale, composed. She looked up at Holden with wide, frightened eyes.

"My ankle," she said softly. "I can't walk."

Holden didn't hesitate.

He bent down. Slid one arm under her knees, the other around her back. Lifted her like she weighed nothing.

London's arms came up around his neck.

I stood there, frozen, watching.

*Holden.*

I didn't scream it this time. I whispered it through the bond. Quiet. Broken.

*Please.*

He didn't look back.

He carried her toward the main staircase. Away from me. Away from the flames that were closing in on both sides.

I tried to follow. The ceiling groaned. Something cracked overhead—loud, final.

I looked up just as a beam gave way.

I threw myself backward. The beam crashed down where I'd been standing, sending sparks and burning wood across the floor. The hallway was blocked.

No way forward. No way back.

I turned and ran the other direction. My lungs screamed. My vision blurred. The smoke was so thick now I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.

I hit a door. Locked. I kicked it open.

A bedroom. Flames already climbing the curtains. But there—a balcony.

I stumbled toward it, shoved the glass door open, and fell onto the stone balcony. Cold air hit my face. I gasped, coughed, tried to breathe.

The balcony overlooked the front courtyard. Two stories down. Stone.

I looked back. The bedroom was an inferno now. Flames licked through the doorway I'd just come through. The hall beyond was collapsing.

No other way out.

I gripped the balcony railing. Looked down. The courtyard swam in my vision.

Two stories. Stone. I'd break something. Maybe everything.

But I'd be alive.

I climbed onto the railing. My bound hands made it clumsy. The silver burned. My injured shoulder shook.

I looked toward the front entrance.

Holden emerged, carrying London. He set her down gently on the grass, away from the building. She clung to him. He knelt beside her, checking her ankle, his hand on her shoulder.

Neither of them looked up.

I opened my mouth to scream his name. To beg him to look. To see me.

The balcony lurched.

I lost my grip.

I fell.

The world tilted. The stone courtyard rushed up. I tried to twist, to land on my side, to do something—

I hit the ground.

Pain exploded everywhere. White. Blinding. My head cracked against stone. My ribs—something snapped. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.

I lay there, staring up at the smoke-filled sky.

Footsteps. Voices. Shouting.

I turned my head—slow, agonizing.

Holden stood at the front entrance, London still in his arms. He was looking at the building. At the flames. At the pack members rushing out.

Not at me.

London's head rested against his chest. Her arms around his neck.

They walked away. Into the cold night air. Into safety.

My vision blurred. Darkness crept in from the edges.

The last thing I saw was them disappearing into the crowd.

Together.

And then there was nothing.