Chapter 2 – A drink, a Dress and a lie
Even though my heart had been shredded just hours ago, I let Rhiannon dress me however the hell she pleased. I stood in front of the mirror, and for a second, I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me.
I looked like I belonged to someone else’s fairytale.
The emerald-green dress clung to my body like it had been made just for me, the fabric kissing every curve and dip. I knew I was decent-looking, sure...but this? I looked like I’d just stepped off a damn runway.
"...and now for the final touch," Rhiannon said with a mischievous grin. “Perfume.”
“I’ve got something,” I said quickly, digging into my bag for the bottle. It was my own creation...something I’d been working on for weeks at the perfume shop. The scent was inspired by something deep in my memory, a fragrance I couldn’t quite explain. My boss, Elias, must’ve sensed how important it was to me. He gave it to me as a birthday gift.
“Smells divine,” Rhiannon said, misting it all over me before handing it back. “Come on. Tonight’s going to be unforgettable.”
She practically dragged me down the street, walking like she owned the damn night. She had confidence in spades. Me? I felt like I was wearing someone else’s skin. I wasn’t used to short dresses and low necklines, especially not in public. The streets were packed, buzzing with people.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked, trying to dodge bodies and not trip in my heels.
“It’s Theron’s engagement ceremony,” she replied like I was supposed to know who the hell that was.
“Theron?”
She rolled her eyes. “First prince of the Lycan Court? The future king? He’s marrying Isolde tonight...daughter of the oldest and noblest wolf bloodline.”
“Oh.”
Well, that explained the crowd.
The Lycan Court ruled over every pack. The King had two sons, but only he and the boys were true Lycans. The rest of us were wolves...lesser in blood and power, whether we liked it or not.
Our Duskwatch Pack was close to the capital, so we saw nobles pass through all the time. But I’d never seen this many people swarming the streets. Not even close.
Rhiannon gripped my hand and guided me expertly through the chaos until we reached an open-air bar lit with lanterns and swarming with bodies. People were packed shoulder to shoulder, music thumping in the background. The air smelled like sweat, booze, and expensive perfume.
She ordered two drinks and slid one into my hand. I hesitated.
“It’s your birthday. Live a little,” she nudged.
I took a sip. Strong. Burned going down. I coughed.
“That’s the spirit,” she grinned and vanished into the crowd.
Panic prickled in my chest as drunk men started eyeing me up like fresh meat. One even leaned in too close.
“Back off,” Rhiannon snapped, returning like a damn shield-maiden. She shoved them off and pressed a hotel keycard into my hand.
“What’s this?”
“We’re getting plastered,” she laughed. “You really wanna go home to my mother wasted? Hell no, I chose life. We’ll crash at a hotel nearby and sneak in tomorrow.”
She caught the doubtful look on my face and softened her tone. “It’s just one night. We deserve this.”
I was about to argue when the crowd erupted in cheers. A giant screen lit up above the bar, showing a man and woman in flashy formalwear. Theron and Isolde. I’d never seen people so... polished. So rich.
Rhiannon pointed excitedly, but I wasn’t paying attention to her. I was too distracted by a conversation happening right next to me.
“Theron is so fucking gorgeous, it's unbelievable,” one girl squealed. She was rail-thin, long-necked, wearing a pink mini-dress two sizes too small.
“Sure,” said her chunkier friend. “But the bride’s the real prize. Most beautiful wolf in the capital.”
“She was born on the Blood Moon,” Pink Dress whispered, like that explained everything.
My stomach dropped.
So was I.
Same night. Same moment. Different destinies.
The Blood Moon was supposed to mark greatness...for power, for beauty, for fate. And maybe I’d gotten the looks, but the rest? The strength? The gifts?
Nada. Zilch. Zero
I turned away from the screen, the cheers and glamor making my insides ache. That’s when I saw him.
Tall. Still. Leaning on the edge of the bar like a storm cloud ready to break. He stared at the screen, not smiling. Not clapping. His aura was cold as hell, like smoke leaking from an icehouse.
There was something about him...his stillness, the sheer pressure that bled from his presence...that made it hard to look away. Until he turned.
Right. At. Me.
Grey eyes. Glacial. Piercing straight through my chest.
I panicked and looked away like I’d been caught doing something wrong. The couple on the screen kissed, and the crowd lost its shit again...but I didn’t care.
All I could think about was him.
“That’s so damn tragic,” the girl in pink sighed. “The second prince...Lucian? He was her fated mate.”
“No shit?” her friend gasped.
“Yep. They were in love. But he was born from a surrogate and cursed or whatever. So he can’t be king. She had to marry Theron instead.”
“Fuck,” the fat girl whispered. “Imagine losing your mate and your crown.”
Yeah. Imagine that.
For a second, my pain felt... small. Because I knew what rejection tasted like. Knew what it meant to be overlooked, unloved, unwanted.
And now I understood exactly who that man at the bar was.
Lucian. The second prince.
I scanned the crowd again, but he was gone.
“Who’re you looking for?” Rhiannon asked, appearing out of nowhere with a drink in hand.
“No one,” I lied quickly. “What’s that?”
“For you,” she said with a giggle. “To help you forget that cheating bastard and actually have a good time.”
“I don’t know...”
“Come on, Selene,” she pouted. “Drink the damn thing.”
I hesitated. Then drank it in one go.
“Atta girl,” she clapped. “I’ll go grab another.”
She vanished again. And then the world tilted.
One minute, I was upright...the next, I was spiraling. Hot and cold at the same time. Dizzy as fuck.
I reached into my purse, fumbled for the keycard she’d given me earlier, and stumbled toward the towering hotel across the street.
I could barely walk straight. The lights blurred. My head was spinning.
I somehow made it to the elevator, then to the hallway, clutching walls to stay upright. I squinted at the doors.
320.
I shoved the keycard into the lock. The door clicked open. I staggered inside, reached for the light...
And froze.
I wasn’t alone.
Something growled low in the dark.
Deep. Predatory. And it didn't sound human.
Chapter 65 – A Promise for JonesSelene’s POVThe moment Lucian appears at the doorway, my heart feels as if a massive weight has been lifted. His arrival is like a breath of air after drowning. He’s a mess—his dark hair damp with sweat, his clothes sticking to his powerful frame, his chest rising and falling with the effort of whatever trials he had faced to bring me what I needed. His skin glistens beneath the torchlight, and though exhaustion drags at his features, his eyes—those fierce, unyielding eyes—find mine and soften.Without a single word, he strides forward, determination in every step despite the weariness in his bones. He places the ghost orchid into my trembling hands. The delicate blossom, pale as moonlight, feels strangely heavy with the weight of so many hopes. I swallow hard, my throat tight with gratitude and fear. Lucian has done his part. Now everything depends on me.For a long, breathless moment, I just stare at the tools laid out before me: the worn, smudged n
Chapter 64 – Dawn's TearSelene’s POVA wave of relief crashes over me as Lucian pries the ancient grimoire from beneath a collapsed stack of decaying tomes. For a heartbeat, I allow myself to believe that salvation is within reach. My hands, slick with sweat and grime, tremble as I open the cracked leather cover. The scent of aged paper and dust fills my lungs, oddly comforting in our moment of panic.Fingers trembling, I thumb through the fragile pages, each one threatening to crumble under my touch. Symbols and scripts, some familiar, most foreign, blur before my eyes. For a fleeting moment, hope ignites in my chest... a warm, bright flicker.But as I read on, that fragile flame is snuffed out, replaced by a cold pit in my stomach. My shoulders slump, the weight of reality settling heavily upon them.Lucian, ever watchful, notices instantly. He leans in, his voice low and steady, as if afraid his words might shatter me completely. “Selene? What is it? What’s wrong?”I hesitate. How
Chapter 63 – RemedySelene’s POVThe healer’s words cling to me, heavy and cold, long after he’s left my side. It feels like they’ve sunk deep beneath my skin, poisoning me with the same helplessness that’s overtaking Aria. I manage a stiff nod, murmuring a thank you I don’t mean. What else can I say? What else can I do? The healer gives me that look... the one filled with quiet sorrow, the kind of look someone gives when they’ve seen too much loss. I see the sympathy in his eyes, but I don’t want it. I can’t bear it. If I take even a scrap of that pity into my heart, I’ll fall apart right here in front of him, in front of everyone.And so, I force myself to move. To do something. Anything.I throw myself into the chaos of the infirmary. My hands tremble, but I keep them busy. I change bandages that are already stained through. I fetch buckets of clean water, though my arms ache. I whisper soft words to frightened children and weary parents, though my voice feels like it might crack w
Chapter 62 – Tainted RiverSelene’s POVThe world has never felt so quiet, so crushingly still. I sit frozen at Aria’s bedside, my fingers trembling as they brush her soft cheek, cool but not cold. I keep telling myself that’s a good sign. That she’s still here. That I haven’t lost her. But with every second that passes, the fear burrows deeper. Her chest rises and falls, so faintly I have to lean in to see it, to reassure myself I’m not imagining it.“Aria,” I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of my terror. I nudge her shoulder gently, then harder. “Baby, please. Open your eyes. Look at me. Just a little.” But she doesn’t stir. Not even the smallest twitch of her lashes. Not the tiniest sigh.My heart pounds so loudly I swear it echoes in my ears. I can’t sit here and do nothing. I can’t watch my child fade in front of me. Panic propels me to my feet, and I bolt from the house, barefoot, barely noticing the sting of stones against my soles.Lucian’s cabin comes into view, a
Chapter 61 – The River’s Curse Selene’s POVThe final crackle of the fireworks fades into the night, leaving behind faint trails of smoke that twist and curl like ghostly fingers into the sky. The air feels heavy now... thick with the lingering scent of burnt powder and that quiet promise of rain. The kind of stillness that settles after a celebration, where for a heartbeat the world seems to hold its breath.I don’t move. I just stand there, watching the last spark die out, my heart pounding strangely in my chest. My thoughts are jumbled, like the smoke above me... drifting, directionless. And then, from the corner of my eye, I sense her.Joy.She steps up beside me so quietly that I almost don’t notice at first. There’s a gentleness about her tonight, as if she’s afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace of this moment.“Selene,” she says, her voice soft, her eyes kind but serious, “let me take Aria home.”I follow her gaze, and that’s when I see him.Darian.
Chapter 60 – The day the light dimmedLucian’s POVI’ve always hated banquets. They’re nothing more than stages where masks are worn, not on faces like tonight’s masquerade, but in hearts. I’ve endured too many... lavish gatherings where nobles flatter one another with syrupy words while sharpening daggers behind their backs. I expected no better here, as I stepped into the Nightborne Pack’s grand hall. But I was wrong.The space isn’t large... not compared to the opulent ballrooms I’ve known... but it’s alive in a way those cavernous rooms never were. Soft silver fabric drapes the walls, shimmering under the warm, flickering light of a hundred candles. The tables don’t groan with excess, but what they do hold... woven garlands of forest blooms, carved figurines that could only have been shaped by loving hands... speaks of care, of pride. Laughter rings out, not forced or polished, but real. This room is small, yes, but it holds more joy than any royal feast I’ve ever attended.I find