Around me, wolves scrambled to their feet. The refined, perfect ceremony turned into a panicked stampede. I was still frozen on the floor, the crescent moon on my wrist pulsing with a white-hot ache. It felt like my very bone was being reforged.
"Abomination! She is a fraud!" A high-ranking noblewoman, glittering with jewels, pointed a trembling, manicured finger at me. "The mark must be false! Check her, Guards! Tear her clothes off if you must!"
Two large Alpha Guards, the same ones who had sneered at my scent earlier, lunged forward. They grabbed my arms, hauling me roughly to my feet and dragging me toward the dais. My knees were too weak to hold me, and I stumbled, my cheek scraping painfully against the carpet.
This is it. They're going to kill me. They'll say I tainted the ceremony. They'll say I tried to trick the King.
"Silence!" the King roared, though his voice was swallowed by the clamor of the nobles shouting contradictory orders-Chain her! Burn the Mark off! Put her in the dungeon!
The guards dragged me right up to the foot of the thrones. I was close enough now to smell the rich, dark spice and ancient power radiating off of Alpha Caeser. The scent was intoxicating, terrifying, and deeply familiar all at once.
My wolf, a tiny, terrified thing I barely acknowledged, let out a deep, shivering whimper of recognition.
The King pointed an accusing finger at Alpha Caeser. "Caeser! Tell them! This is a mistake! You are not bound to this creature. Break the connection immediately, before the High Council hears of this shame!"
Alpha Caeser remained perfectly still in his throne. He didn't move a muscle. He simply looked at the room. His silver eyes swept across the screaming nobles, the panicked guards, and finally, settled on his own father, the King.
Then, he spoke.
His voice wasn't loud. It wasn't a roar like his father's. It was a low, steady rumble, like grinding tectonic plates, that somehow cut through the deafening noise.
"Enough."
The effect was instantaneous. The shouting stopped. The frantic shuffling of feet ceased.
Even the heavy breathing of the guards holding me went silent. The whole hall, brimming with hundreds of powerful wolves, fell into a deep, chilling silence that swallowed every sound.
It was the silence of a packed stadium when a single shot is fired.
Alpha Caeser slowly leaned forward, resting his scarred forearms on his knees, his gaze never leaving his father.
"Father," Alpha Caeser's voice was laced with something colder and harder than ice. "You forget. The Moon Goddess selects the mates. Her choice is not dictated by your laws, your caste system, or your personal disgust." He inclined his head toward me, a tiny, devastating gesture of acknowledgment. "She has chosen. I am bound."
The King stammered, his face white with impotent fury. "But... but a slave! It's against the Edicts of the Founders! It will bring the fall of the Varyn Crown!"
"Then let it fall," Alpha Caeser said, his voice flat. It was the most shocking thing he could have possibly said-a casual dismissal of the very throne he sat upon. "But while I stand, she is Mine. And she is no longer a slave."
He stood up.
He didn't move fast, but the sheer size of him made the guards flanking me flinch back. He took one deliberate step off the dais and stood directly in front of me. I was trapped between him and the two heavy guards who still had a death grip on my arms.
"Release her," he ordered the guards.
They hesitated, looking to the King, who could only choke out: "Do as he commands! Foolish boys, don't provoke him!"
As soon as their hands lifted, I sagged, unable to bear the weight of the moment. I would have crumpled, but Caeser's hand shot out, catching my upper arm. His touch was burning hot through my thin tunic. It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't hurting me; it was simply a demand that I remain upright.
He looked down at me, and I finally got a good look at his eyes up close. The silver wasn't metallic anymore; it seemed to be churning with conflicting emotions-anger, certainty, and something that looked terrifyingly like possessiveness.
"What is your name?" he asked, his voice coming as a low, private rumble only for me.
My throat was dry. I had to force the word out. "Ava."
"Ava," he repeated, the name sounding foreign and heavy on his tongue. He didn't ask about my family, my status, or my work. He didn't care. "You will be my Luna. You will stand by my side. You will not refuse this bond."
I wanted to scream, to weep, to tell him I was just a girl who cleaned toilets and that I couldn't possibly be the Luna of the most powerful, feared Alpha in the territory. But the mark on my wrist throbbed, locking my tongue in place.
"This is madness!"
The new voice was piercing, sharp with a terrifying authority. The King's Seer-an ancient, wizened woman who served as the spiritual advisor to the crown-pushed through the crowd. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, entirely white, and she moved as if possessed.
She stopped several feet away, pointing a bony finger past Caeser and directly at me.
"The bond exists! But this union... this is the Curse fulfilled! The prophesy of the Dark Moon is upon us! This slave's blood is tainted, Alpha! Your love for her will be the key to your destruction, the poison in the heart of the crown! She will not bring life; she will bring the Fall! Kill her now! Break the bond by shedding her blood, before she drags you into the shadow!"
Her scream was pure terror, a sound that finally seemed to shake Caeser. For the first time, a flicker of doubt, or perhaps just cold fury, crossed his scarred face.
The seer's words gave the King the courage he needed. "You hear the Seer, Caeser! It is the will of the Ancestors! She must be executed! Guards! Seize the girl and purify the hall!"
The two guards, invigorated by the King's renewed authority and the Seer's pronouncement, rushed me again. One grabbed my arm, the other lunged, his intent clearly not just to hold me but to strike.
And he did.
A heavy, open-handed smack caught me across the cheek. It wasn't a killing blow, but it hurt so bad. My head snapped back, the sharp pain blinding me for a second, and a metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.
The world seemed to slow to a crawl. I heard the gasps, but they sounded distant, watery. I barely registered the heat and fury of the mark on my wrist. I only felt the sting and the cold, crushing realization that this was my life-I'd moved from one master's boot heel to another's fist.
But before the guard could even draw his hand back, Caeser moved.
No one saw it. It wasn't a blur; it was a cessation of motion and then a sudden, terrifying presence. One moment, he was holding my arm; the next, he had shifted, his entire body a wall between me and the guard.
The Cursed Alpha didn't use a claw or a weapon. He simply used the back of his hand-a lightning-fast, brutal strike that connected with the guard's temple.
A sickening crunch echoed through the silent hall. Blood sprayed, a fine red mist against the white of the royal carpet. The guard dropped instantly, hitting the marble with a dull, heavy thud. He wasn't just unconscious; he was out cold.
Caeser stood over the downed man, his chest rising and falling in shallow, controlled breaths. The scent of raw, unrestrained Alpha power rolled off him, making every wolf in the room drop their heads in submission.
He looked down at the bleeding, unconscious guard, and then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to the King. The silver in his eyes seemed to have swallowed the light.
He straightened to his full, devastating height, his voice a low, terrifying vibration that carried nothing but pure menace.
"Try that again," he whispered, "and I'll start with your King."