It was my father’s birthday. He was standing beneath the silver light of the full moon, making a silent wish to the Moon Goddess, when my mother suddenly leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

My father, Alpha Daniel—strong, ruthless, and feared by many—had always been terrified of death. But after hearing those words, his face drained of all color. A cold shiver ran through him before he shifted into his wolf form and threw himself off the cliff at the edge of our territory.

After his death, countless wolves questioned my mother, desperate to know what she had said to him.

Some even offered rare wolfsbane and forbidden magic to buy those words from her.

But she remained tight-lipped, never revealing the secret.

Until the day of my mating ceremony.

My mother showed up at the sacred grounds — and whispered those same words into my mate’s ear…

—

After my father’s death, my mother became infamous.

My father had always been known for his strength and dominance as the Alpha. He was feared and respected across the territory—a werewolf who could command a room with a single glance. He wasn’t the kind of man to be shaken by anything. That’s why his death shocked the entire pack.

The fact that he suddenly shifted into his wolf form and threw himself off the cliff at the edge of our territory could only mean one thing: my mother’s whispered words had driven him to it.

Rumors spread like wildfire. The pack was restless, hungry for answers. Why would the Alpha take his own life? What could my mother possibly have said to make him do such a thing?

Countless wolves came to our pack, desperate to know the truth. Some were driven by curiosity; others by fear. A few hoped to protect themselves from whatever dark secret had taken down an Alpha.

There was even a powerful Luna from a neighboring pack, trapped in a loveless bond, who offered a chest of rare moonstones and forbidden herbs, enough to secure her power for a lifetime—just to buy the words that could drive someone to end their own life.

But my mother remained silent, refusing to speak.

Even when the Elders gathered and demanded answers, she lowered her gaze and said nothing. Their eyes burned with suspicion and rage, but my mother’s expression remained impassive, her silence an iron wall they could not breach.

In the end, my mother was sentenced to three years of confinement for inciting the death of the Alpha. The Elders’ decision was swift and ruthless. An Alpha’s death, especially under such mysterious circumstances, could not go unanswered.

After handling my father’s funeral, I went to see her. The pack’s holding cells were cold and damp, the air heavy with the scent of stone and silver. My mother sat on the other side of the silver bars, her posture relaxed despite her surroundings.

Unable to suppress my confusion, I asked her, “Mom, what exactly did you say to Dad? Why would he kill himself?”

My mother’s gaze was steady, her face devoid of emotion. The moonlight filtered through the cracks in the ceiling, casting pale shadows across her face.

“He didn’t want to live anymore,” she said flatly. “What does that have to do with me?”

Her calmness cut through me like a knife. My throat tightened, a bitter ache spreading in my chest.

“Dad was terrified of death,” I said, my voice rising. “He would call the pack healer over the smallest scratch, convinced it would get infected and threaten his life.”

I took a shaky breath, anger mixing with sorrow. “Every year during the Blood Moon, he prayed to the Moon Goddess for a long life—and to see me mated and raising his grandpups.”

I leaned closer to the bars, my hands curling into fists. “Tell me—why would he suddenly end his own life when everything was fine?”

My mother’s gaze sharpened, but her expression remained unchanged.

I was heartbroken—and confused. My father had always been a strong and compassionate Alpha. His bond with my mother had seemed unbreakable. I had grown up watching them move through life as a united front—their love was fierce and intense, the kind of connection that other wolves envied.

So why would my mother say something that would drive him to such a fate?

What exactly did she say?

Faced with my desperate questions, my mother simply gave me a long, deep look. Her silver eyes were unreadable, the faintest trace of something dark flashing beneath the surface.

“Stop asking,” she said coldly. “Knowing too much won’t do you any good.”

Her words settled over me like a shadow. My mother was hiding something dark enough to shatter the strongest wolf I had ever known.

I stepped back, my breath hitching in my throat. Deep down, I knew this was far from over. And whatever secret my mother was keeping was dangerous enough to kill an Alpha.

After that brief encounter, my mother refused to see me again, retreating into the shadows of the forest.

I told myself I wouldn’t care. I assured myself that her answers were unnecessary. But the silence she left behind echoed louder than any explanation.

Returning home felt strange. The den, once filled with warmth and laughter, now felt cold and hollow. My father’s absence weighed heavy in the air, like a storm cloud that wouldn’t break.

I stepped carefully through the den, half-expecting to hear his deep voice or the sound of his steady footsteps. But there was nothing. Only the quiet creak of the wooden floor beneath my feet.

The walls were still decorated with pieces of our history, a wolf pelt from a hunt he’d led, trophies from pack challenges that once symbolized our strength and unity.

But now, these trophies served as heavy reminders of what we had lost.

I traced my fingers over the rough texture of his old leather belt, hanging from a hook near the door. His scent lingered faintly, and for a moment, it felt like he was still with me.

My heart squeezed painfully. My father had always been our rock—the one who stood between us and the dangers of the world. He protected the pack and led us with strength and wisdom, and now he was gone.

And my mother had let it happen.

I wanted to believe there was some reason for it—some hidden truth I hadn’t uncovered yet—but every time I tried to approach her, she shut me out. Her coldness cut deeper than any weapon ever could.

I sought comfort in Damien. He had been by my side since we were pups—loyal and steady, even when the ground beneath us was crumbling. He understood my silence, never pushing me for more than I could give.

On the hardest nights, when sleep refused to come, Damien would sit with me beneath the stars. He’d hold my hand, letting the quiet night fill the space between us until my breathing slowed.

Three moons passed. The pack was still trying to find its footing without my father’s leadership, but life carried on. Damien and I decided it was time to take the next step—our sacred bond ceremony beneath the full moon.

The night before the ceremony, Damien and I sat beneath the ancient oak tree near the den. The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting soft shadows across his face.

He turned toward me, his dark eyes searching mine. “Aurora,” he said gently, “your mother is back now, but you still haven’t invited her to the ceremony.”

I stiffened.

He took my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Is the rift between you two still that deep?”

I sighed, leaning my head against his shoulder. “It’s not just a rift, Damien. It’s everything. My father was our protector, our strength. And then she said a few words, and he was gone.”

He was quiet for a moment, his arm tightening around me.

“Maybe there’s more to it,” he said softly. “Maybe she didn’t mean to hurt him. She lost him too, you know.”

I closed my eyes, trying to let his words sink in. I didn’t want to think about her pain. I was too caught up on my own.

“What if it’s not that simple?” I whispered. “What if she knew exactly what she was doing?”

He pulled back slightly, his dark brows furrowed. “Do you really believe that?”

I hesitated.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just… I want to know why.”

“Then maybe you need to ask her,” Damien said. “Not to accuse her—but to understand.”

His words lingered in the air, pressing against the walls I had built around my heart.

He brushed his fingers along my jaw, tilting my face toward his. “Whatever happened… you deserve answers.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Damien had always been my steady place. He was the one constant in my life, even when everything else crumbled.

And maybe he was right.

My mother was the only family I had left. If there was even a small chance of healing the distance between us, I had to try.

Filled with hesitation—and hope—I resolved to send her an invitation to our ceremony.

The next morning, I stood at the edge of the forest, clutching the small envelope in my hand. My fingers trembled as I walked toward the old path leading to her cabin.

The frost-covered leaves crunched beneath my boots. The air was sharp and cold, biting at my cheeks.

When I reached the cabin, I hesitated. Through the window, I saw her sitting near the fire, her long silver hair falling over her shoulders.

My heart pounded as I knocked lightly on the door.

After a long moment, the door creaked open.

My mother stood there, her gaze steady but unreadable. Her pale eyes flicked to the envelope in my hand.

“What is it?” Her voice was calm, but her expression gave nothing away.

I held the envelope out toward her. “It’s an invitation. Damien and I are bonding tomorrow night.”

She took the envelope, studying it like it might burn her fingers.

“I… I want you to be there,” I said.

Her gaze lifted to mine. I saw something flicker there—surprise, maybe even pain—but it was gone in an instant.

For a moment, I thought she might refuse.

Then, to my surprise, she said, “I’ll think about it.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

As I walked back toward the den, the cold air stinging my cheeks, I realized my heart felt a little lighter.

I didn’t know if my mother would come.

But at least I had reached out.

The day of the ceremony arrived, bright and bustling under the protective gaze of the full moon.

My heart hammered painfully in my chest as I stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the crowd swell. Pack leaders, warriors, and elders stood in tight clusters, exchanging low murmurs. Their expressions ranged from quiet curiosity to thinly veiled suspicion. This wasn’t just a ceremony—it was a reckoning.

The scent of burning sage and pine lingered in the air, sharp and familiar. It was meant to cleanse the energy, to usher in peace. But I could feel the tension beneath the surface. An unease that curled beneath my skin.

Then I saw her.

My mother stood at the far end of the crowd, her figure frail beneath the glow of the moonlight. Her long silver hair was pulled back into a braid, and her sharp blue eyes swept over the gathering with cool detachment.

Despite the weight of time on her body, she stood tall. Composed. Unyielding.

“Are you ready?”

Damien’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. His hand found mine, his warmth steadying my trembling fingers.

I glanced at him. His dark eyes reflected the soft glow of the moon, his jaw tense beneath the weight of the moment. His black hair fell just over his brow, and when he smiled faintly, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I think so,” I whispered.

The pack leader stepped onto the ceremonial platform. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his cloak of deep crimson lined with fur. His gaze swept over the crowd as he raised his hands, signaling for silence.

“It is time,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Tonight, we bear witness to the union of two souls beneath the light of the full moon.”

The crowd stilled. Breathless anticipation settled over the clearing as Damien and I stepped toward the platform. My heart beat wildly in my chest as his hand tightened around mine.

Damien’s gaze was steady as he stood beside me, his shoulders straight. “It’ll be over soon,” he murmured. “We’ve got this.”

But the tension in his eyes betrayed his calm tone.

The pack leader raised his hands toward the moon. “Aurora Hale and Damien Blackthorn, do you stand willingly before the pack to pledge your bond?”

“Yes,” Damien said without hesitation.

“Yes,” I echoed, though my throat tightened around the world.

The pack leader lowered his hands. “And if any soul here has cause to challenge this union, speak now.”

A ripple of silence stretched through the crowd. I scanned the faces—some tense, others carefully guarded. My gaze drifted toward my mother.

And then she moved.

My mother stepped forward, the crowd parting around her like water. My pulse quickened as she walked toward the platform with measured grace.

“I have a message for my daughter,” she said, her voice steady but cold.

Damien’s hand tightened around mine. I could feel the shift in the air—the sudden chill of uncertainty.

My mother climbed the steps with a quiet authority that made the pack leader hesitate. Her gaze settled on me, sharp and unyielding.

“You deserve to know the truth,” she said.

My chest tightened. “What truth?”

Her gaze shifted toward Damien. “About him.”

Damien’s brows furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his eyes widened.

Suddenly, his entire body tensed. His breath hitched, and a strange, haunted look crossed his face.

“Damien?” I whispered.

My mother took a step forward, whispered something in Damien's ear.

He stumbled backward, his hand slipping from mine. His chest heaved as his gaze darted wildly across the crowd, his pupils blown wide with terror.

“Damien!” I reached for him, but he jerked away.

“No—no—I can’t—” His voice cracked. His hands flew to his head as if trying to block out a sound only he could hear.

Then he turned toward the cliff.

My breath caught.

“No!” I screamed, but he was already moving.

He bolted toward the edge of the cliff, his breath ragged and shallow. His feet pounded against the earth as he sprinted, his dark figure illuminated beneath the silver light of the moon.

“Damien!”

I lunged after him, my feet flying beneath me. He was fast—too fast.

He reached the edge—

And jumped.

“No!”

My scream tore through the air as his body plummeted down the rocky cliffside.

Thud.

The sound hit me like a hammer to the chest. A brutal, sickening crack that made my knees give out beneath me.

A chilling silence fell over the ceremony.

Gasps and cries erupted as wolves rushed toward the edge of the cliff. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs as I stumbled forward.

Damien’s body lay twisted among the jagged rocks below. His dark hair was splayed around his head, and his limbs were bent at unnatural angles.

“Damien!”

I dropped to my knees, my breath ragged and broken.

Someone’s hand gripped my arm—my mother’s. Her face was pale, her lips parted in shock.

“Aurora,” she whispered.

“No,” I choked out. My chest tightened painfully as tears blurred my vision. “No, no, no—”

Damien’s chest wasn’t moving. His body was still. Lifeless.

I tore away from my mother’s grasp and stumbled toward the edge. My hands curled into the cold dirt as I screamed down toward him.

“Damien!”

No response.

My throat burned as sobs ripped through me. The world blurred around me—whispers, screams, the sound of wolves moving. None of it mattered.

My mother’s hand touched my shoulder. “Aurora—”

“Why?” My voice was hoarse and broken.

She shook her head, her eyes glistening with something that almost looked like regret. “I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Then why?” My voice rose in desperation. “Why was he so terrified?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

The pack leader’s voice cut through the chaos. “We need to bring him up.”

Several wolves began to descend the cliffside.

I sat frozen, tears streaming down my face. My body felt hollow—like something vital had been ripped from me.

Damien’s hand had been in mine only moments ago. His breath. His warmth. His heartbeat.

And now, he is gone.