LOGIN
"You're twenty-two and still unmated."
The words followed Natasha across the training grounds like an unwanted shadow.
She ignored them.
With a sharp twist, she caught her brother's wrist and used his momentum against him. Kael hit the dirt hard enough to shake the ground beneath them.
A chorus of whistles erupted from the warriors watching nearby.
Kael groaned from where he lay sprawled on his back. "One day I'm going to stop letting you do that."
Natasha snorted and offered him a hand. "You say that every time."
The morning air was cool against her sweat damp skin. Her muscles burned pleasantly from the fight, and for a few precious moments, she could forget the conversation waiting for her back at the pack house.
Forget the whispers.
Forget the pitying looks.
Forget that every unmated female in the kingdom had become a target.
Kael accepted her hand and pulled himself upright.
"Father's looking for you."
Of course he was.
"Let me guess." Natasha grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face. "Another lecture about finding a mate?"
Kael's expression turned apologetic.
That answer was enough.
Natasha clenched her jaw.
She was one of the strongest warriors in the pack. She led patrols. Trained recruits. Had fought rogues twice her size and walked away victorious.
None of that seemed to matter.
To most wolves, she wasn't a warrior.
She was simply an unmated female running out of time.
The blast of a horn echoed from the main gate.
Conversation died instantly.
Every head turned.
A royal courier bearing the Alpha King's crest rode into the courtyard.
Natasha's stomach sank.
Royal couriers never brought casual news.
With a curt nod to Kael, she headed toward the pack house.
---
Her father's study smelled of ink, leather, and old parchment.
Alpha Aldric stood near the window, a sealed scroll in his hand. The royal crest had already been broken.
That alone told her enough.
This wasn't a request.
It was an order.
"A summons arrived this morning from the Alpha King," Aldric said without turning.
Natasha folded her arms. "What now?"
"There is to be a royal ball."
Silence.
Then
"No."
Her father finally turned.
"I haven't finished."
"I don't need you to."
Aldric exhaled slowly.
"Every unmated wolf in the kingdom is required to attend."
Natasha gave a short, humorless laugh. "Required."
"It is not optional."
"I have patrol rotations."
"You will miss them."
"The northern border"
"Will survive without you."
Her jaw tightened.
"I don't belong at a ball."
That made him pause.
Not anger.
Something heavier.
Resignation.
"Natasha," he said quietly.
She hated when he used her name like that.
Like she was already halfway gone from the life she wanted.
"You are of age," he continued. "And the kingdom is watching unmated wolves more closely than ever."
"I don't care what the kingdom is doing."
"You will."
That landed harder than it should have.
Aldric stepped forward, placing the scroll on his desk.
"It is not just a ball."
Her attention sharpened.
"What do you mean?"
His gaze held hers.
"The Alpha King will be present. So will every major Alpha family in the kingdom."
Natasha's arms tightened across her chest.
"So?"
A pause.
Then
"And the Shadow Alpha will attend as well."
The name settled in the room like a weight.
Even Natasha had heard it.
Not from her father directly.
From whispers in training yards.
From traveling warriors.
From warnings disguised as admiration.
The Shadow Alpha.
Damien Blackthorne.
A wolf who had taken leadership by force and turned Shadow Fang into something larger, sharper, and far more dangerous than it had ever been before.
Some called him a strategist.
Others called him ruthless.
Most agreed on one thing.
He was not a man you underestimated.
Natasha gave a short scoff to cover the unease she refused to acknowledge. "A room full of Alphas judging unmated wolves. How festive."
"You will not be judged," Aldric said.
She looked at him sharply. "That's exactly what this is."
Silence stretched.
Then his voice lowered.
"Just attend. For me."
There it was again.
Duty wrapped in family.
Obligation dressed as love.
Natasha looked away.
She hated that it worked.
After a long moment, she gave a single nod.
"Fine."
Relief flickered across his face.
That only made her more irritated.
She turned and left.
---
In her chambers, she stripped away the sweat of training and washed the dirt from her skin.
On the bed lay a gown.
Emerald green.
Soft fabric.
Delicate stitching.
A weapon disguised as elegance.
Her sister's choice, no doubt.
Natasha stared at it like it had insulted her personally.
She would rather wear armor.
At least armor didn't lie.
In three days, she would wear it.
In three days, she would stand in a room full of strangers and be measured like currency.
And in three days, she would meet the Shadow Alpha.
She did not know why that thought lingered longer than it should have.
She turned away from the dress.
Three days.
Then it would be over.
Or it would begin.
---
Miles away, wolves lowered their eyes when Damien Blackthorne entered a room.
Not because he demanded it.
Because power recognized power.
At twenty eight, the Shadow Alpha ruled one of the strongest territories in the kingdom.
Three years after claiming leadership, he had expanded borders, secured trade routes, and crushed every challenge to his authority.
The elders called him the future of the kingdom.
The kingdom called him the Shadow Alpha.
Damien called the Alpha King's ball a complete waste of time.
Steam drifted through his quarters as he dragged a towel through his dark brown hair.
A knock sounded at the door.
Before he could answer, Jax entered carrying a scroll.
"The elders sent me."
Damien groaned. "Let me guess."
"They want your final answer."
"My answer hasn't changed."
Jax tossed the scroll onto the bed.
"They're still pushing the mate selections."
Damien didn't look at it.
A list of daughters.
Political alliances.
Carefully curated futures he had no interest in.
"They keep forgetting something," he said.
"Which is?"
"I don't choose a Luna because they want me to."
Jax exhaled. "You know the pack needs"
"A Luna," Damien cut in. "They say that every week. The pack is doing fine without one."
Jax raised a brow. "The elders disagree."
"The elders are welcome to marry among themselves."
That earned a reluctant laugh.
Damien pulled on a dark tunic, the fabric sliding over his skin as he fastened the silver fang clasp at his collar.
"They'll corner you at the ball," Jax said.
"Let them try."
"You'll be diplomatic?"
A pause.
"I'll be functional."
Jax frowned. "That's worse."
"It means I'll survive it."
Jax left shortly after.
Silence settled.
Damien crossed to the window overlooking Shadow Fang territory.
Dark forests stretched endlessly beyond the glass.
Somewhere out there, fate supposedly waited.
A mate.
A bond.
Something ancient and unproven in his experience.
He had never felt it.
Never heard the call.
Never been claimed by anything beyond his own will.
And yet
Something restless stirred beneath his skin.
Not recognition.
Not certainty.
Just a flicker of unease he couldn't name.
His wolf shifted.
Quiet.
Watchful.
Waiting.
Damien exhaled slowly.
Three days.
Then the Alpha King's ball would begin.
Maren worked in silence, her hands steady and efficient as she unwound the old bandage with careful precision.Natasha sat rigid against the tent post, jaw clenched, staring at nothing while the medic peeled away layers of bloodstained cloth.The wound beneath was ugly.Bruised flesh split along a jagged line, the edges swollen and angry despite days of salve and rest."Hold still," Maren murmured, pressing a clean cloth soaked in a sharp-smelling poultice against the wound.Natasha hissed through her teeth but didn't pull away.The salve burned cold.Then hot.It seeped into tissue that screamed with every pulse of her heartbeat.Maren's fingers worked quickly, spreading the paste evenly before pressing fresh linen over the cut."You're not making this easy," Maren said, winding the first layer of bandage tight around Natasha's shoulder and chest. "The more you strain this, the longer it takes to heal. And the Alpha made it very clear what happens if I send you back in worse conditio
The tent flap parted with a sharp sweep of Damien's hand, dawn light cutting across the dim interior like a blade.His eyes found Natasha immediately.Propped against the far post, her restrained arm bound tight against her torso, jaw set in that stubborn line he'd learned to read like a battle map.Maren hovered nearby, hands wringing a cloth stained with old salve. She straightened the moment Damien stepped inside, her posture shifting to attention the way a soldier responded to a commanding officer. She'd been tending the wound, but the cautious look she cast toward Natasha told him everything about how that had gone."How is she?" Damien asked, his voice low but carrying the weight of an order rather than a question.Maren swallowed."The tissue is healing, but slowly. She keeps trying to use the arm. If she...""I wasn't asking for a diagnosis."His gaze stayed fixed on Natasha."I was asking if she's been difficult."Maren's silence was answer enough.Damien crossed the tent in
Marcus returned with a set of crude iron restraints, heavy bands meant for wolves who needed to be reminded of their place. He handed them to Damien without a word, and the metal clinked with a sound that carried more weight than any threat could.The silent soldier's composure held, but his breathing had changed.Shorter.Shallower.The kind of breathing a man does when he's fighting the urge to bolt and his body knows it can't.Damien crouched behind him, one knee pressing into the dirt. He wrapped the first iron band around the soldier's left wrist, cinching it tight over the existing leather binding, then locked it with a pin that bit into the metal with a sharp click.He repeated the process on the right wrist, pulling until the man's shoulders strained backward, chest thrust forward, spine arched into a position that would become agonizing within minutes."Iron doesn't forgive," Damien said, his mouth close to the soldier's ear. "It doesn't stretch. It doesn't loosen. Every time
Dawn bled across the camp in pale ribbons of grey and gold, the light cutting through the mist that clung to the ground like a reluctant ghost.Damien stood at the center of the interrogation clearing, arms folded across his chest, watching as Marcus and Gideon dragged the captives into a rough semicircle before him.Five rogues.Four from the night's failed extraction attempt, plus Rook, who had been rotting in the supply tent for days, stubbornly silent.Now they knelt in the dirt, wrists bound behind their backs with leather restraints pulled tight enough to numb fingers. Ropes anchored their ankles to iron stakes driven deep into the earth. None of them could move more than an inch in any direction.Damien surveyed them with the cold patience of a man who had all the time in the world and no intention of wasting a single breath on mercy.The first rogue, a wiry man with a broken nose and dried blood crusted along his jaw, met his eyes.Defiant.Stupid.Damien filed that away and mo
The tent flap was warm against his bloodied knuckles as he pushed through.Natasha sat on the edge of the cot, spine rigid, green eyes burning into him the moment he stepped inside. Maren hovered near the supply table, hands clasped tight, but Damien dismissed her with a single look.The healer slipped past him without a word.The tent flap fell shut behind her with a soft whisper.Silence pressed between them.The lantern flickered, casting shifting shadows across Natasha's face, her sharp cheekbones, the stubborn set of her jaw, the fresh bandages wrapped tight around her shoulder. Blood still flecked the gauze.His blood, not hers.He noticed the difference immediately, and something dark and satisfied uncurled in his chest."You're hurt," Natasha said.Her voice was flat, controlled, but the bond betrayed her. Worry laced through it like thread through fabric, sharp and insistent despite her careful composure."Rogue blood."Damien crossed the tent in three slow strides, stopping
The bond snapped taut at midnight.Damien felt it like a blade between his ribs, a sudden, electric jolt that had him on his feet before his mind registered why. The pulse between him and Natasha had shifted, threaded with something sharp and urgent. He pressed his palm flat against his chest, feeling the bond vibrate beneath his sternum like a plucked wire.Something was coming.He was already moving through the camp when Marcus found him."Alpha."Marcus's voice cut through the darkness, low and tight.Damien turned to see his lieutenant striding toward him from the eastern ridge, chest heaving, sweat darkening his temples despite the cold night."Scouts picked up movement twenty minutes ago."Damien's jaw tightened."How many?""Six. Maybe eight rogues moving through the eastern ridge toward the refugee tents." Marcus's breathing was controlled but rapid. "Not our spy. A full patrol. They're not coming for the refugees. They're coming to extract their man before we break him comple
The next morning, the training yard stretched quiet beneath a pale sky, dew still clinging to the packed earth. Natasha moved through her warm-up forms with deliberate precision, her muscles loose but her mind still tangled in the web of suspicions from the night before. The trap was set. All she c
The stronghold gates had barely closed behind them when Seraphine's hand found Natasha's elbow, her grip gentle but insistent."Enough."Natasha opened her mouth to protest. There were reports to deliver, a treaty to secure, a debriefing to attend. But Seraphine's eyes had already fixed on the dark
Natasha’s second morning as Luna of Shadow Fang began not in the training yard but in the council chamber, a stone-walled room heavy with the scent of old parchment and wolf musk. Damien had sent for her before dawn, his messenger’s knock brisk and impersonal. She’d dressed quickly in fitted trouse
The carriage stopped beneath the grand estate of the Alpha King, and Natasha immediately understood why warriors preferred battlefields over silk diplomacy.Because battlefields at least made sense.The emerald gown her sister had forced onto her clung like a second skin, elegant in a way that felt







