Chapter 1

When Celine Vail slid the obsidian bond ring across the counter, Nora Whitlock, the witch behind the deed registry, looked up.

"You're sure you want to trade your whole vow deposit for a refuge deed to Greytide Island?"

Celine pinned her trembling right hand to the counter. "I am."

She had saved the deposit for four years, never spending a cent of the basic stipend the Moon Council paid wolf-soul carriers. Rafe had given her a few trinkets; Gavin sometimes tossed her salt coins for errands. She had put it all into the same iron box. With the moon-map prize she had never dared touch in her first life, it was exactly enough for a one-way deed.

Nora turned the parchment deed around and tapped the final clause. "Once you cross the Tide Gate, your Redridge pack mark goes dark for good. Greytide Island belongs to no pack's scent network. The Council keeps no wardens there, and no tracking spell can pierce the tide fog."

She held Celine's gaze. "Once you cross, no one can find you. You won't be able to contact anyone on this side, either."

"I know."

"The deed is final. The Tide Gate opens in three days. Miss it, and you wait another year. On the other side there are no supply lines, no territorial defenses, and no Alpha's protection. Whatever becomes of you there is no concern of the world you leave behind."

Without hesitating, Celine pushed the iron box across. Nora counted the coins, then slid a thin receipt back to her. "Once the deposit enters the Greytide Fund, the guarantee attached to your old pact with Rafe Blackwood becomes void as well."

Celine lowered her head. "Then let it be void. I never want that life again..."

Celine bit her fingertip and pressed a bead of blood into the center of the deed. A silver sigil crawled from the parchment to her wrist, then sank beneath her skin.

As she watched the sigil disappear, she remembered the last day of her first life. She had lain in a moonstone chair while her mother asked, "Is this enough wolf soul to get Cassandra through the solstice?" No one had asked whether Celine would wake again.

She had once thought death was the worst thing that could happen. Now she knew better: waking up only to suffer it all again was worse.

Three minutes earlier, she had vomited black blood into a sink at the North American Moon Council. The face in the mirror was young and pale, with none of the eclipse marks that had spread across her collarbone before she died. The eclipse was the fatal sickness of a failing wolf soul—and Cassandra's excuse for taking hers. Celine had returned to the past, nine days before her public bonding vow with Rafe.

In her first life, everyone had called the vow her good fortune. She was Redridge's overlooked second daughter; Rafe was the Blackwood pack's Alpha heir. Only after the vow was sealed did she learn the truth: it was no marriage contract, but a permanent license to harvest her wolf soul. Whenever Cassandra had an attack, Rafe and the Redridge Alpha could invoke mate rights and drain her.

They had drained her for four years.

The last time, she had lain in that moonstone chair and heard her mother ask, "Is this enough wolf soul to get Cassandra through the solstice?" Not whether Celine would wake again.

So when she woke this time, she did not go home. She went straight to the Council.

Nora folded a copy of the deed and handed it over, then pointed to the small print at the bottom. "Once you cross, every guarantee attached to this deed is spent. There's no return passage."

Celine tucked the deed into an inner pocket. "I'm not turning back."

At those words, the tension wound through Celine's chest eased for the first time. The choice had been made. The iron box was empty, the bond ring remained at the registry as collateral, and Redridge's scent still clung to her—but soon the tide fog would wash it away.

Just then, the registry doors swung open. The Alpha scent of fir and rust rolled through the room. Rafe strode across the crowded hall and caught her by the arm.

"Why did you shut off your scent signal?" He frowned, his thumb pressing the tendon inside her wrist as if soothing a bristling pup. "Cassandra is having another attack. Everyone is looking for you."

Celine did not answer. The hard edge of the deed bit into her ribs through her inner pocket.

He studied her cool profile and gave an indulgent laugh. "Little wolf, enough. It's only a little wolf soul. I know how strong you are. Helping her won't hurt you."

He pulled her against his chest and rested his chin on her head, his breath warm against the curve of her ear. "When it's over, I'll take you out for that smoked fish you've wanted. I'll buy you a new set of paints, too—and the silver chain you liked. All right?"

In her first life, she had survived four years on sweet words and scraps of compensation. She had mistaken them for love. In truth, they were only bribes to keep her an obedient vessel—her family's private blood bank.

In the healing den, her older sister, Cassandra Vail, lay on a moonstone bed with a carefully induced sheen of cold sweat at her temples. Celine's father, Warren, stood beside the extraction array; her mother, Delia, held Cassandra's hand; and her younger brother, Gavin, urged the healer to hurry.

Nobody asked why Celine had gone white.

Cassandra turned her head, her voice soft as if it had been steeped in honey. "Mom, when I'm a little better I want to go to the Moon Wood myself and gather calming herbs. You have not been sleeping well lately."

Delia's eyes warmed. "I still have the little packet you made me when you were seven. You were so tiny, sneaking out of bed at midnight to dry herbs—and you blushed so hard when I caught you. You've always had the kindest heart."

Celine stood beside the moonstone chair. She knew exactly which sachet Delia meant: laurel root, dried mint, and silverleaf in a five-three-two ratio. She had tested seven variations before finding proportions mild enough not to trigger Gavin's allergy. When Cassandra carried the sachet into their parents' room the next morning, bits of herb from Celine's drying rack still clung to her hair.

In her first life, Celine had fought for the credit, turning to her mother with tears burning in her eyes.

"I worked out the formula from the herb codex," Celine had said. "Gavin reacts to laurel root, so I tested the proportions until the sachet was safe for him."

But the moment she finished, Cassandra turned wounded eyes on their mother. "It's all right, Mom. Celine only lied because she loves you. If she says she made it, I won't argue."

Delia's smile stayed in place, but her voice chilled. "Must you pick a fight over something so small? Your sister is ill, and you still want to upset her?"

This time, Celine stayed silent. Some truths changed nothing, even when spoken aloud.

"Sit down." Warren pointed at the moonstone chair. "The heir's wolf soul is unstable. Tonight we need at least thirty percent."

"The new Council rule requires the carrier's own consent," Celine said.

Delia's eyes hardened. "That rule is for outsiders. You're a Vail. Supporting the heir has always been your duty."

Gavin shoved her down by the shoulder. Rafe took the moonbinding strap and wound it gently around her wrist. He bowed over her hand, the tip of his nose almost brushing her skin, as if she were something fragile. "Do not be afraid. I'm right here, little wolf. I'm not going anywhere."

When the needle went into the core of her wolf soul, Celine watched the side of his face.

In her last life, at the very end, these same hands had tightened the straps for her. This man was not unaware that it hurt. He simply believed Cassandra mattered more.

Wolf soul flowed through the tube, and color returned to Cassandra's face by degrees. She opened her eyes and gave Celine a weak smile. "I'm sorry to put you through this again. When I feel better, I promise I'll ask them to take less."

When the draining was over, Rafe steadied Celine, who could barely stand, and his fingertip brushed the bond ring on her ring finger.

"Nine more days and you're officially mine," he said.

Celine pulled her hand back, took the bond ring off, and put it in her pocket.

No.

She would not belong to anyone again.