CHAPTER 1

*Kira, Age 24*

> *Twelve years. And I still taste blood when I breathe in pine.*

The guards drag me through the gates like I matter. Like I’m a threat.

I let them.

Because I planned this.

Because I wanted this.

Since I arrived for him.

My wrists are chafed from the silver bands, my knees bruised from the rough trail. Yet I maintain my head high, back straight, and gaze fixed on the way forward—toward the arena, the core of the Crescent Howl Pack. Toward him.

The Trial Grounds haven’t changed. Blood shed is a tradition here. Still ancient stone walls wrapped in vines. Still blood-soaked dirt at the center. Still the platform of power looming above it all—where the Alphas and Council sit.

Where *he* sits.

I was twelve when I last walked these woods.

I left with blood in my mouth and fire behind my eyes.

I return to finish what never should have been started.

“Trial begins,” a council member announces, voice thick with tradition. “Alphas may approach. Take what is owed. Reject what is weak.”

Wolves step forward like it’s a market. Browsing. Judging. Choosing.

A blonde female alpha grabs the boy beside me by the jaw. “Too soft,” she says, and kicks him aside.

The girl on my left is taken. The one on my right cries when her mate rejects her for being too thin.

Me? I kneel in silence. Back straight. Eyes forward. Not a whimper.

Then It was my turn,

"Trespasser found near the border," one of the guards barks, shoving me forward. "No ID. No pack scent."

“I don’t sense pack bond,” says a female elder. “She’s not claimed. Not alpha-born. Not even ranked.”

“She could be hiding her scent,” Jehrin murmurs. His Beta. His right hand. His past.

And the snake watching me like prey she thought already dead.

Gasps ripple through the watching crowd. Dozens of wolves, high-ranking and snarling, peer down at me. Some lean forward with interest. Others sneer.

I meet every gaze without flinching.

Let them look.

Let them wonder.

Let them *fear* what they can't name.

The guards force me to my knees at the center of the arena. The silver cuffs bite into my skin, but I don't cry out. I don't even blink. I won't give them the satisfaction.

The High Elder steps forward. His robes brush the dusty floor. His voice cuts sharp through the murmurs.

"Name."

I stay silent.

"Your name, girl."

Still nothing.

One of the guards grabs my shoulder, squeezing hard. "Answer when spoken to."

I look up, slow and calm, eyes burning.

"I wasn’t aware being prey required introductions."

The silence that follows is sharp as broken glass.

Then—a growl.

And *him*.

Ronan Maddox.

He steps from the shadows behind the dais, tall and broad, wrapped in command like a second skin. He wears black leather and the Crescent crest over his heart. His face is harder than I remember—sharper jaw, colder eyes. Stormclouds over wildfire.

His presence rolls out like thunder, rippling through the arena. The other alphas still. The Council watches him.

He watches *me*.

His eyes lock on mine.

And nothing.

Not recognition. Not rage. Not regret.

> He doesn’t know me.

Not the girl under the roots.

Not the scent he bit into.

Not the voice he told to *stay silent*.

I should be relieved.

Instead, something splinters in my ribs.

"Kill her," the High Elder says, waving a dismissive hand. "She's nothing."

The words strike harder than I expect.

Even after all this time, it’s so *easy* for them.

To destroy.

To erase.

To forget.

"Wait."

His voice cuts through the rising tension.

Ronan steps forward. His hands are loose at his sides, but I can smell the change in him. His wolf is near the surface. Agitated. Confused.

He stares at me again. Harder this time.

Like something in him *remembers*. But not enough.

"She's mine."

The world halts.

The crowd erupts.

Gasps. Shouts. A few wolves leap to their feet.

The High Elder narrows his eyes. "Explain yourself, Alpha Ronan."

He hesitates. Just a flicker. Just enough.

"The bond... it's recent. I hadn’t announced it yet."

> Liar.

I jerk against the guards holding me. “Let me go.”

“She’s not an omega from our records,” someone argues. “There’s no mate bond registered.”

“It’s… new,” Ronan says.

> Oh, you liar.

I feel the words like a slap. My mouth twists. He’s *lying* to protect himself, or maybe me, or maybe the pack. I don’t care.

But the gall of him—

“Trial mate,” the council member confirms. “Accepted?”

Ronan nods once. Cold. Final. “Accepted.”

He doesn’t look at me again.

The guards release me, and I stand. Not gracefully. Not triumphant. I stand because I’ve done worse for less.

He claimed me.

That wasn’t part of the plan.

He walks ahead, and I follow.

Through the crowd. Through the eyes that whisper. Into the center of Ironclaw’s keep, where stone halls echo with ancient blood and duty.

“You’re insane,” I mutter.

Ronan doesn’t stop walking. “Probably.”

“You just made me your trial mate in front of a full council.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

He pauses then. Turns to face me in the shadowed corridor, his jaw ticking.

“Because the council wanted your head. And my wolf wouldn’t let that happen.”

I stare at him.

“And now what?” I say. “You pretend I’m yours until the heat passes? You keep me as some pet in your war room?”

“I don’t pretend,” he says, voice low.

“But you forgot me,” I shoot back, my voice sharp.

He freezes.

Bingo.

I step closer. Let him see me. Really see.

“You bit me,” I whisper.

He doesn’t move.

“Twelve years ago. Under a burning sky. You bit me, told me not to scream, then vanished.”

His mouth parts. No sound.

“I waited,” I say, softer now. “And you never came back.”

He blinks once. And I see it—fracture. Confusion. Memory. Pain.

I don’t care.

“You saved me once,” I continue. “But that doesn’t make you a hero. And I’m not a girl who forgets.”

Ronan’s gold eyes burn into me, unreadable. Then—

“You’ll be safe here.”

“I don’t want safety,” I snap.

“You’ll have it anyway.”

He turns again. Walks away.

I stay standing in the dark hall, fists clenched at my sides, my jaw aching from how hard I’m grinding my teeth.

He doesn’t remember. But something inside him does.

I saw it.

And now?

Let him play this lie.

Let him think he’s saving me.

Because while he’s pretending to protect me, I’ll be cutting the strings from the inside.