Chapter 3

Madison’s POV

I can’t stop staring at my reflection.

The girl in the mirror isn’t me. Her eyes are hollow, rimmed red from tears she doesn’t remember shedding. Her hair hangs limp against her cheeks, strands clinging to damp skin. But it isn’t her face that makes my stomach twist—it’s the mark glowing faintly on her neck.

Gold. Not the soft silver I’ve carried since Dylan first touched me, not the symbol that tied us together before the goddess and our pack. This one is alive, pulsing faintly as if it’s breathing with me.

I press trembling fingers against it, willing the glow to vanish, but the warmth seeps through my skin as if mocking me.

I've never heard of the mark from fated mate being overwritten by another's. I was supposed to be mated officially soon, with my mark from Dylan as proof of our bond. Now, everything is different.

This can’t be real. This isn’t happening.

Madison.

The sound of Dylan’s voice crashing through the mindlink nearly sends me to my knees. I stagger against the vanity, clutching the counter as his concern floods my chest.

Where are you? His tone is low, clipped, and heavy with worry.

My throat tightens. I’m fine, I lie, forcing the words through a throat gone dry. Just tired. You know how Charity and I get when we drink.

A pause stretches too long. I can almost picture him narrowing his eyes, arms folded across his chest. You’re sure?

Yes, I answer, my voice a little too quick, too sharp.

The silence presses in. Then his presence pulls back, retreating from my mind, leaving only emptiness and the pounding of my heart. I sag against the counter, my chest heaving as though I’ve run a mile.

I can’t tell him. Not this. Dylan is possessive to the point of obsession. I remember once, at a restaurant outside our pack, a waiter flattered me, trying to get a better tip. Dylan almost started a public fight, an action completely unbecoming of a future Alpha, all over a meaningless compliment.

If he knew another man had touched me at our wedding night—let alone left a mark—he would never forgive me. Even if he said the words, the trust between us would be gone.

And our mating ceremony is only a month away. Just four weeks until the future I’ve dreamed of is sealed. I won’t let one mistake destroy that.

The most crucial part of the ceremony is the confirmation of the mating marks Dylan and I, as fated mates, gave each other. That mark is what makes our union legitimate in the eyes of everyone. I have to find a way to restore my original mark before the rite begins.

Charity’s brother is our pack Gamma, so she’s always well-connected and hears everything. That’s why she volunteers to help me fix this mess. For a moment, it feels like things are falling back into place.

Yet the thought claws at me: last night should’ve left me in heat, burning with Dylan’s need as much as my own. Instead, all I remember is fire that didn’t belong to him. His mark has erased my fated mate's. That isn't supposed to be possible.

What exactly did that stranger do to me?

Charity finds me later, her voice hushed, her steps quick. She slips into my room and shuts the door behind her before I can even greet her.

Her eyes are too bright, shining with excitement. “Maddie, I found something.”

My stomach drops. “What kind of something?”

“The mark.” She grabs my wrist, tugging me closer, as if afraid someone might overhear. “It’s not just anyone’s. The golden mark belongs to a royal. It is rare for the royal pack to mate outside their own ranks, so this fact is scarcely known among common wolves.”

The word hangs between us, heavy and dangerous.

“Royal?” I whisper.

“Yes. I checked every archive I could find.” Her grin widens, reckless and giddy. “Royal werewolves can overwrite marks. The higher their rank, the stronger the ability. Maddie, you might be with a prince last night.”

My breath hitches. “No. That’s impossible.”

She squeezes my hands, her excitement bubbling over. “Don’t you see what this means? If he comes back for you… you could be queen. You’ve always deserved more than just being Luna. You’d be perfect.”

Her words slice deeper than she knows. My voice cracks. “Stop.”

She blinks. “What?”

"This is not a romance novel, and this is not a joke."

“I don’t care if he’s a royal.” The heat in my chest breaks through as I yank my hands back. “My heart belongs to Dylan. I don’t want power. I don’t want a crown. I just want him.”

Charity’s smile falters, replaced by something wary, almost pitying. “But Maddie… this mark doesn’t vanish. If it’s royal, it might never—”

“I’ll find him,” I interrupt, the words spilling faster than I can think. “I’ll find him and make him undo it. That’s all.”

Her mouth opens as if to argue, but then she exhales sharply and nods. “Fine. Then we’ll find him. I’ll ask around, quietly. But until then, you need to hide it.”

My hand flies instinctively to my throat, covering the golden glow as if Dylan could see it through the walls. “I know.”

The next week passes in a blur.

Every morning I wake with panic, terrified the mark will shine too brightly for me to hide. I wrap scarves around my throat despite it's not that cold. The constant neglect that used to hurt now feels like a blessing. Not a single person in this house is concerned about my strange behavior. My absence wouldn't create a ripple.

The only thing that worries me is Dylan. Each lie I tell Dylan weighs heavier, each excuse sharper.

“I’m sick,” I tell him, when he asks to take me out. “I don’t want to get you sick too.”

I brace for his anger and jealousy, but instead he surprises me.

Rest, he says through the mindlink, his tone softening. I’ve been swamped with preparations for the pack special guests. I don’t want you pushing yourself.

I nearly sob with relief, though guilt scalds me just as quickly.

Later, he reaches out again. I want you at the reception. You’ll be great, Maddie—your etiquette, your grace. I trust you to represent us.

Sweet words, dripping with pride. I whisper my agreement, even as my stomach knots tighter.

Then Dylan confides in me, his voice dropping, that the wolves visiting our pack are royals.He proudly recounts his family's power, rooted in their connection to the royal bloodline. He speaks of legacy and honor. But the words wash over me, drowned out by a deafening roar in my head.

Is he going to be there? Among the royals I have to welcome?

When the mindlink fades, I collapse against my pillows, every muscle trembling. The walls feel too close, the air too heavy.

I strip off the scarf and stumble into the bathroom. The shower’s steam envelopes me, hot water pounding over my skin, but it doesn’t wash away the dread. It only makes me more aware of the mark, glowing faintly through the mist.

When I step out, a towel wrapped around me, the last thing I expect is company.

But there she is.

Zoey sits on the edge of my bed, legs crossed, her sharp eyes tracking my every move. Her smirk makes my blood run cold.

“Zoey?” My voice cracks, fear slipping through. “I locked my door. How and what are you doing here?”

She tilts her head, studying me like a predator studies prey. “Something’s been off with you lately, Maddie. You’ve been hiding.”

My pulse races. “You’re imagining things.”

Her gaze drops to my collarbone. The towel slips just enough for the mark to peek through, gold glimmering faintly against my damp skin.

Her lips curve into a slow, knowing smile. “I knew it.”

I lunge for the towel, clutching it tight, but it’s too late.

Zoey rises, her steps unhurried, her smirk widening as she closes the distance between us. “That’s not Dylan’s mark. Oh, Maddie.” She tsks softly. "You cheated on your mate."

“What would he say if he knew?”