LOGIN(ELARA’S POV)
The warmth of the hearth seeped through the thick wool coat wrapped around my shoulders, but the cold inside me refused to budge. My fingers trembled against the warm mug of herbal tea Ronan had placed in my hands. “It’ll give you strength” he had said. His eyes were the kindest I’d seen in a long time. Beneath my palm, resting against my lower stomach, I could still feel that faint flutter. I don’t know how, but I could—that tiny spark of life that bound me to the very man who had ruined me. Ronan sat across from me at the small wooden table, his pale blond hair catching the glow of the fire. He didn't rush me. Instead, he let the quiet crackle of burning pine fill the room. His silence was patient— something I wasn't used to receiving from an Alpha or anyone, really. When I felt my voice was clear enough, I started speaking. “The Ironridge pack…they never saw me as one of their own,” I murmured. “Not when they took me in as a child, and certainly not after the Goddess bound me to Darius.” Even as I said those words, I could taste the bile rising in my throat. “If anything, it made them despise me more. In their eyes, I was still just an orphan who had taken a place I didn’t deserve.” I swallowed the lump in my throat, my voice cracking slightly. "Five years I spent as his Luna, treated like little more than a servant. And then there was Farina Whiteclaw— The perfect omega”, I laughed a little and shook my head. “I don’t know how she did it but she framed me. She wants Darius— she has always wanted him”. I wanted to tell him how Darius had always looked at Farina. How every smile I had prayed for belonged to another woman. How the entire pack had celebrated her long before she ever became Luna. But the words refused to leave my mouth. I was already pathetic enough. Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to meet Ronan’s steady blue eyes. “I have nowhere else to go, Ronan.” My voice cracked on his name. I looked down at the untouched tea in my hands and tightened my grip around the warm mug until my knuckles turned white. “I’m pregnant” Ronan’s eyes widened before his expression softened into quiet disbelief. He stared at me for a long moment, the weight of what I’d just confessed settling over the room. “Pregnant?” he repeated carefully, as though he feared he’d misheard me. I gave a faint nod, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s Darius’s child.” Saying it aloud somehow made it more real. “If he ever finds out…” My throat tightened painfully. “He’ll take my baby away.” I swallowed hard, fighting the sting behind my eyes. “Or he’ll kill us both before he ever lets another pack raise his heir.” A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. “So please…” I whispered, my voice breaking completely. “I’m begging you.” “I’ll work. I’ll clean. I’ll cook if I have to. I’ll earn my place here.” “I don’t care what I have to do. Just—“ My breathing hitched. “Please don’t send me back.” Silence settled between us. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, filling the space neither of us seemed willing to interrupt. Ronan didn’t rush to answer. He simply watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Not pity. Never pity. Something quieter. Something that looked painfully close to understanding. Finally, he exhaled. “We’ll need to make sure you and the child are alright,” he said gently. “I’ll have our pack physician examine you first thing tomorrow.” “No.” The word escaped me so quickly it startled even me. Ronan’s brows drew together. “No healers,” I repeated, shaking my head frantically. “You don’t understand.” “If anyone examines the mark…” My fingers instinctively flew to the jagged scar on my collarbone. “If anyone realizes the bond is still alive…” My breathing became uneven. “…or discovers my child…they’ll start asking questions. And questions spread. I can’t risk anyone finding out.” I looked at him desperately. “Please, Ronan—No healers.” For several long seconds, he simply studied me. Then, to my surprise, he nodded. “Alright.” No argument. No demands. No attempts to change my mind. “Until you’re ready.” Relief washed over me so suddenly that my shoulders sagged. “Thank you.” Ronan leaned back in his chair, his eyes lingering on the dancing flames. “You know…” he began quietly. “I understand more than you think.” I looked up. “My parents died a year ago. My whole family, really.” His voice was calm, but there was a heaviness beneath it that made my chest tighten. “They were killed during a raid. We believe the Blackfangs were responsible, though no one was ever caught.” He paused for a moment, as if the memory still weighed too heavily to speak of. “I wasn’t here when it happened.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “I’ve lived among humans for as long as I can remember.” My brows knitted together. “You… lived with humans?” He nodded. “My parents believed it would make me a better Alpha one day.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “They wanted me to understand diplomacy before violence… trade before war… people before power.” His smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared. “I don’t think they expected to die before they could teach me how to lead wolves.” Silence settled between us. “When news reached me, I came back immediately. I had to— my pack needed an Alpha. A leader.” He looked around the modest cabin. His laugh was soft. Humorless. “They got a merchant instead.” I couldn’t help letting out the smallest smile. “I know how to negotiate trade agreements. , I know how to manage supplies, I know how humans settle disputes without bloodshed. But—“ He shook his head. There was pain in his eyes. “Leading warriors?” His fingers tightened around his cup. “I’ve only been Alpha for a year, Elara. I’ve never fought in a war, never led soldiers into battle.” The pain was bleeding into his voice. “My own people look at me and see a man who smells more like human cities than wolf territory.” His voice dropped lower. “They obey because the title demands it. But they don’t believe I can actually protect them.” He finally met my eyes. “And some days… I don’t know if they’re wrong.” Something inside me ached. This was the first person showing me kindness in a really long time—maybe forever— and he was in so much pain. It was unfair. It was so unfair. “You aren’t weak.” The words came without thought. “You saved me; someone you don’t know, you carried me here even though your own pack was clearly against it” I gestured towards my arm injured from the attack. I managed a small smile. “If that’s weakness…I wish Ironridge had more weak men.” For the first time since we’d met… Ronan laughed. It wasn’t loud. Or forced. Just genuine. When the laughter faded, his expression slowly became serious again. He stood and walked around the table until he was beside me. “I was thinking.” His voice was calm. Measured. “If Darius learns you’re alive… He might come after you.” I closed my eyes. “I know.” “And if the other packs discover you’re carrying his child…they’ll tell him.” I didn’t answer. Because he was right. “You need protection.” “And I need my pack to believe I can provide it. I need to show stability.” The realization dawned on me before he even spoke again. “There may be a way…” He trailed as he moved even closer to me, looking directly into my eyes. “We tell the world you’re mine— that you’re under my protection.” His sharp blue eyes held mine. My breath caught when he said the next words; “We stage a mating.” His voice remained steady, like he hadn’t just said one of the most jarring things I’d ever heard. Ronan continued, disregarding the shock on my face. “No one would dare challenge another Alpha’s claim without risking war.” “You would have a home. Your child would have my protection. They would become my child—A Trueblood.” He paused, searching my eyes. “And in return, you will help me lead this pack. You have the experience— the wisdom too, I’m sure. You’ll guide us— you’ll guide me.” He hesitated for the first time that night. Then quietly he said. “Stand beside me, Elara. Not because fate chose us, but because I’m choosing you.” “Let the world believe you’re my mate if that’s what it takes to keep you safe.” Reaching out to touch my cheek ever so lightly, he said, “you have spent your life fighting alone. You won’t have to anymore.”(DARIUS' POV) The war room had become my second home. For three days, I had barely left it. Maps covered the long oak table, weighed down by stone markers representing patrol positions, trade routes, and the territories of the eastern packs. Reports were scattered between them, most carrying the same message: Trueblood was being blamed, and Ronan wasn't doing anything to stop it. I stood at the head of the table, staring down at the map of our eastern border. Matt's blood had been spilled somewhere beyond those trees and Farina had fallen into a thicket of blackthorn in the same place. I could still see it if I closed my eyes: her scream, the blood already soaking into the earth, the way my own legs had refused to move for one terrible heartbeat before instinct took over. Somehow, every road since then seemed to lead back to Ronan. I tightened my grip on the edge of the table. "He is making a mistake," I said quietly. The patrol guard standing across from me lowered his he
(ELARA’S POV) I stared at the tiny bead of blood pooling on my fingertip, unable to move a muscle. For several agonizing seconds, the world shrank down to that single drop. The faint crackle of the oil lamp against the stone wall sounded deafening, punctuated only by the distant, hollow whistle of the night wind rattling the windowpanes. My heart slammed against my ribs with brutal force. It couldn’t be real. There had to be another explanation—a rational, mundane cause for what my eyes were telling me. I spun around and rushed to the washbasin, plunging my hand deep into the cold water. I scrubbed my index finger furiously, using the freezing chill to drown out the stinging cut until my skin was raw. I wanted the water to wash away the impossible. When I finally lifted my dripping hand, the gold was gone. Only a clean, shallow slice remained. I let out a long, shuddering breath, resting my palms against the stone edge as my shoulders caved. Then, another tiny bead of blood
(ELARA’S POV) The rumors had outpaced reality entirely. Trueblood had killed Matt. That was the story carrying through the eastern packs, passed along trade routes until the truth stopped mattering. Some versions claimed Matt was ambushed by Trueblood scouts deep within disputed border forest. Others insisted Ronan had ordered the strike personally because Ironridge stood in the way of his growing influence across the region. None of it was true. But knowing the truth did nothing to contain the damage. Rumors were like water in a flood; once they breached the banks, trying to reason with them was an exercise in futility. I spent most of the morning in the council room with Maeve, wading through formal correspondence that had arrived overnight. The heavy oak table was strewn with scrolls and parchment bearing various pack crests, most of them variations of the same tone—cautious inquiries, requests for clarification, or thinly veiled warnings from allies who were suddenly
(RONAN’S POV) The silence of the packhouse shattered in an instant. I was halfway down the hall, heading to my own chambers, when the sound tore through the quiet corridors. It was not a distant warning horn or the low growl of an intruder at the gates. It was a raw, terrified scream, cutting through the heavy timber of the guest wing like a blade. It was Elara. Instantly, my wolf surged to the surface. My hand was on the hilt of my sword before my mind fully registered the sound, my boots slamming against the cold stone floor as I sprinted toward her chambers. Every protective instinct I possessed flared. I kicked door open, stepping low and sweeping the shadows with my steel drawn, ready to tear apart whatever had dared to breach these walls. "Elara!" I called out, my breath coming hard. There was no assassin. No shadow lurking in the corners. No open window swaying in the night draft. There was only Elara, sitting bolt upright in the center of the bed, her han
(ELARA’S POV) The morning light in Trueblood was cold, filtering through the high archways of the main hall like pale ice. I stood near the edge of the stone courtyard, holding a cup of steamed tea between my hands and watching the low mist roll off the pine-covered hills. Everything in Trueblood felt steady, but it was a quiet, watchful kind of steady. Ever since Ronan returned from his meeting with Darius, the entire packhouse had been moving with a sharp, disciplined urgency. Nobody was panicking, but everyone was aware that a single wrong move across the Ironridge border could set off a spark no one wanted to extinguish. A gentle rustle of silk skirt fabric pulled my attention toward the garden walkway. Three women were strolling along the polished stone path, their laughter soft and familiar against the quiet hum of the morning. It was Maeve, Maren, and Selene. I didn’t even hear them arrive, but it was always wonderful to see them. "Elara, there you are," Maeve
(FARINA’S POV) The silence in my quarters was thicker than the linen bandages wrapped around my throat and chest. Every breath pulled at the long, jagged tears left by the blackthorns. The pack healer had done what he could with his herbs, but the skin was still hot, inflamed, and raw. Yet the burning by the side of my neck was nothing compared to the cold, oppressive stillness in the room whenever Darius stood by the high window. He hadn't touched his tea. He hadn't sat down since returning from his meeting with Ronan. "You should rest," I said, my voice coming out as a raspy, fragile whisper. I rasped deliberately, letting the strain show, playing the role of the fragile, grieving mate to perfection. Darius didn't turn around immediately. His broad shoulders were squared against the fading evening light, his posture rigid with a mix of sorrow and mounting fury. "Matt is dead, Farina. And Trueblood’s Alpha walked into my council chamber today and practically spat on his memory







