Fated in the Dark

The Northern Moon Summit

Alpha Rhett Calder hated crowds, even ones filled with other Alphas.

The ceremonial grounds were carved into the bones of a mountain, surrounded by pine and mist, lit only by torchlight and the looming glow of the full moon. Every step he took echoed against the stone-lined circle where the Summit was held, drawing wolves' attention from every pack in the northern territories.

He kept his expression cold, unreadable. As Alpha of the Blackstone Pack, he had a reputation to uphold—brutal in battle, decisive in politics, and impossible to sway. That’s what they said about him. That’s what he needed them to believe.

But beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his instincts itched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was off tonight.

He smelled it before he saw it—sharp pine, lightning in the air, and something else, something alive and primal that hit him like a punch to the chest. His wolf lunged forward inside him, clawing for release.

Mate.

Rhett halted mid-step, his boots grinding against the stone. Around him, conversations faded. He barely registered the startled look from Alpha Rourke across the circle or the subtle tightening of shoulders from the war-hardened Alpha of the Thorn River pack. All he could focus on was the scent twisting through the air.

Then she stepped into view. She wore all black—tight leather pants, a fitted jacket, combat boots, and a scowl that looked like it belonged there. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid that brushed her spine as she walked, and her eyes—wolf eyes, silver with flecks of storm—locked with his.

His wolf howled. The moment stretched, thick and electric, tethering him to her with an invisible thread that yanked hard and didn’t let go.

Mira Ellan.

He didn’t know her name yet. Didn’t know she was from the Ridgeback Pack. Didn’t know she’d been raised outside of the traditional pack system, trained as an enforcer, a ghost with no Alpha and no one to claim her.

All Rhett knew was that something ancient had just shifted under his feet, and the mate bond had snapped into place.

Mira stopped walking. Her nostrils flared, eyes narrowing as she took in Rhett’s broad frame, clenched fists, and rigid jaw. She didn’t soften. She didn’t smile. She tilted her head.

“Well, that’s inconvenient,” she muttered. The words hit him like a slap. Rhett blinked, stunned. “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” She crossed her arms, looking entirely unimpressed with the towering Alpha before her. “The gods have a wicked sense of humor.”

He stepped closer, drawn by something beyond logic. “You’re my—” “I know what I am to you,” she interrupted him coolly. “Doesn’t mean I asked for it.” The insult didn’t sting so much as it intrigued him.

Rhett wasn’t used to being dismissed. He wasn’t used to mates who looked like they were considering bolting. “I didn’t ask for this either,” he said carefully. “But I won’t ignore it.”

“I didn’t say ignore,” she replied. “I said inconvenient. There’s a difference.” Before he could answer, the Council’s drums sounded from the far end of the circle. Alphas, Betas, and their entourages turned toward the raised stone dais where the Summit rituals would begin.

But Rhett couldn’t look away from her, and Mira didn’t flinch from his gaze. She stared back like she was assessing a threat or memorizing him before she burned the whole thing down.

Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked toward the central fire. Rhett stood frozen, heart hammering with something dangerously close to awe. His mate was fire wrapped in a storm.

The Summit dragged. Political posturing. Territory disputes. Trade agreements. Rhett kept one eye on Mira the entire time. She stood alone, arms crossed, expression unreadable. No pack insignia. No visible allies.

A lone wolf. Claimed by the gods, not a pack. He should have been suspicious. He should have asked questions, but all he could think about was how the bond had snapped taut in his chest. Every instinct told him to follow her, speak to her, claim her, but he waited until dusk fell again, and the firelight flickered shadows across stone and bone.

Rhett made his move. He found her behind the council tent, where the torchlight didn’t quite reach and the air smelled like smoke and anticipation. She didn’t startle when he stepped from the trees.

“I figured you’d come looking,” she said without turning. “I figured you’d run,” he answered. “I still might,” she replied, spinning to face him. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Rhett Calder.”

He paused. “I haven’t asked for anything yet.” Her lips curved—sharp, not soft. “Then let me make it easy. I’m not interested in belonging to anyone.” “I’m not here to cage you.” His voice was low. “But don’t pretend you didn’t feel it.”

She did. He could see it in the tremble of her fingers, the tightness of her jaw. “I felt it,” she admitted. “And I don’t know whether to worship it or rip it out of my chest.” A pause. Heavy. Real. “That’s the bond,” Rhett said. “It doesn’t ask permission.”

She stared at him for a long time. “You’re not the only one it snapped to.” His brow furrowed. “What?” “I don’t think it’s done,” Mira whispered. “I thought it was just you. But there’s something else.” She turned slowly, gaze lifting toward the path behind the tents.

Rhett followed her line of sight, and from the shadows, a man emerged. He was taller than average but lean, dressed simply in dark clothes. He walked like a soldier—deliberate, cautious, guarded. His hair was tousled, his jaw stubbled. There was a scar at his temple and a flicker of something unreadable in his dark blue eyes.

He didn’t look at Rhett. He looked at Mira, and she inhaled like she’d been struck. “You,” she whispered. Rhett’s wolf bristled. Not in challenge—but confusion. Something ancient stirred, uncoiling.

The stranger stopped a few feet away, visibly tensing as his gaze snapped between them. He hadn’t spoken yet, but Rhett could feel the energy ripple around him—wrong, off, important.

“Who are you?” Rhett asked, already suspecting he wouldn’t like the answer. The man met his eyes finally. “Jace Rowan. Beta of the Hollowshade Pack.” Mira’s voice was barely a whisper, “He’s mine too.”