Chapter One — The Beast of MoonRiver

The MoonRiver Forest never truly slept.

Even in the hours before dawn, when frost clung to the moss and the world went quiet under a veil of pale blue mist, there were always sounds. Wings. Breath. Distant howls carried across the water. Sometimes, if you listened hard enough, you could hear the trees themselves groan like old bones, shifting in the cold.

Lillieth listened.

It was the only time she was allowed to.

Her fingers were numb where they gripped the rope, knuckles bone-white as she hauled up another heavy bucket from the river. The current was faster this morning; snowmelt from the northern ridge had swollen the water to a cold, deep rush. The bucket slipped once, splashing up icy spray that soaked through her sleeves and made her hiss softly at the sting. She didn’t complain. Complaining cost too much.

Her long hair swung forward as she leaned, brushing her hip and then the damp ground. Even braided, it nearly reached her knees, thick and glossy black like ink poured in moonlight. It should have tangled with twigs and grit and river mud by now. She thought it was unfair that even the forest failed to ruin her. Beauty brought all the wrong attention here.

“Faster,” came the sharp voice from the rise behind her. “Do you think Alpha Draven waits for rats like you?”

Lillieth swallowed.

“No, Beta,” she said quietly.

“‘No, Beta Marla,’” Marla snapped back. “Again.”

Lillieth tightened her jaw. “No, Beta Marla.”

Marla made a satisfied sound.

Marla had not come down to help. She was wrapped in a thick dark coat lined with fur, arms folded, standing above Lillieth on the slope of the riverbank like a queen watching a servant crawl. Her blond hair was curled and perfect despite the hour. Her lips were painted a deep berry red. Even at four in the morning.

Marla never missed an opportunity to be seen.

Especially today.

“It’s a full run this morning,” Marla went on, flicking a speck of lint off her cuff. “The Alpha is training all warriors at sunup. He’ll expect food, coffee, and silence. I shouldn’t have to remind you that omegas eat last. You understand why.”

Because omegas were lowest. Because omegas didn't matter. Because Lillieth, despite her face, despite her eyes, despite the way every unmated male that crossed her path stared too long and swallowed too hard, would always be considered less than dirt.

“Yes, Beta Marla.”

Marla arched a brow. “Look at me when you answer.”

Lillieth’s stomach went cold.

Looking higher-ranked wolves in the eye without permission was considered a challenge. It was one of their precious rules, and they clung to their rules because rules gave them reasons to hurt her. She’d learned that before she could shift. She’d learned that on her knees, with blood in her mouth.

But refusing a direct order—especially from the Beta’s daughter—was worse.

So she lifted her chin, just a little. Let Marla see her.

Emerald.

That was always the word people used when they talked about Lillieth’s eyes, if they didn’t know she could hear them: emerald. Fierce. Poison green. Eyes that looked like they’d been stolen from something older than wolves.

For a breath, Marla’s lips thinned.

Lillieth knew what she saw. She’d seen it in the mirror when she’d been foolish and hopeful enough to look into one, years ago.

She saw pale skin that didn’t freckle, that seemed almost luminescent under moonlight. She saw lashes curled dark and thick. She saw a mouth shaped soft and full, a mouth that would have belonged to a princess in a story if this world had any use for princesses. She saw the line of a throat too elegant for an omega who scrubbed floors.

She saw beauty.

And she hated it.

It should have protected Lillieth.

It had damned her.

“Mm,” Marla said, that bitter sound she made whenever she had to acknowledge the obvious. “Ugly inside, though. That’s what matters. Hurry up.”

Lillieth dropped her gaze again. “Yes, Beta Marla.”

When Marla was gone and her footsteps had faded back up toward the packhouse, Lillieth finally let herself breathe.

The early cold bit at her lungs, sharp and metallic. Each exhale came out in a pale ghost-cloud, dissolving slowly in the mist above the river. She flexed her fingers once, twice, feeling how stiff they’d gone. Feeling how the rope had burned grooves into her palms.

Her body always hurt.

It wasn't always the same kind of hurt, but it was always there.

Her back still ached from yesterday, when she’d been too slow sweeping the training hall and two of the warriors—Tomas and Reed—had decided that the floor would get cleaner if they pushed her face into it. Her shoulder burned from where someone had grabbed her too hard in the dining hall last night. Her ribs had a dull, familiar throb from a kick two days ago.

She never bruised for long.

That almost made it worse.

She gripped the bucket, heaved, and set it down beside the others. Four now. Six more to go.

Her breath formed pale ribbons in the air as she moved, and her mind began to drift, just a little, the way it always did in the thin quiet between orders.

To her wolf.

Nyx?

Silence answered.

Always silence.

Lillieth had first shifted on her sixteenth birthday. The pack had waited, watching her, whispering, betting on what she would be—small and pale like she was? Some washed-out gray? Some mousy brown? Something forgettable.

Instead, she’d screamed.

Her bones had cracked, bent, reshaped. Her skin had split in white-hot lines of agony, blood spilling down her arms in bright trails. She’d felt heat and ice all at once, felt something inside her break open and pour out like night.

And then she’d seen herself—really seen herself—for the first time.

Black.

Not dark. Not russet. Not charcoal.

Black.

Like the moon had gone out.

Her wolf’s fur absorbed light. Her paws looked like shadows given form. Her eyes had gleamed that same cutting green, too green, almost unnatural in a wolf’s face.

The pack had gone silent.

Someone had whispered, “Void-born.”

And then—

Then Nyx had said four words.

Run, little star. Run.

Lillieth had tried.

She didn’t make it past the border.

The patrol brought her back by her throat.

And Nyx had never spoken since.

Lillieth dragged in a slow breath and tried to push the memory back down. Thinking of it made her chest feel strangled. Some nights, she sat awake and begged her wolf to answer her. She prayed to the Moon Goddess, desperate and small, whispering please like a song.

Please talk to me.

Please tell me what to do.

Please don't leave me alone here.

Nothing.

Maybe Nyx hated her. Maybe Nyx had realized what the rest of the pack already knew: Lillieth didn’t belong. Lillieth was wrong.

She hoisted another bucket, jaw clenched against the cold burn in her shoulders.

By the time she staggered up the slope toward the packhouse, her arms were trembling and her braid was damp and heavy down her back. The packhouse loomed ahead of her like a hungry animal.

It wasn’t beautiful.

Some packs lived in sprawling glass mansions with modern lines and open windows and soft lights. MoonRiver had… MoonRiver.

The main house was three stories of dark wood and old stone, built into the side of the hill like it had grown up from the bones of the forest. Torches burned along the outer walkways instead of the clean, golden sconces other packs boasted about. Antlers and skulls were mounted over the front doors. The MoonRiver crest—a jagged crescent over black water—was carved deep into the heavy beams.

It felt less like a home and more like a warning.

The closer she got, the more awake the place felt. She could hear voices inside already, laughter, clinking dishes, chairs scraping across floors. The pack was gathering.

For him.

For their Alpha.

Her stomach twisted.

She pushed through the side entrance into the kitchens, shoulders curling in on instinct. If she made herself smaller, sometimes they forgot to pick at her.

Most of the females were already moving in practiced rhythm. Pans hissed and popped. Trays of meat were already laid out. Sacks of root vegetables were split at the tops, pale orange and white spilling out like entrails. The smell of coffee, dark and bitter, hung thick in the air.

Lillieth set the bucket down and went straight to work, silently ladling water into the big metal kettles. No one said thank you. No one asked if she was freezing. They never did.

They’d told her once, during her first month in the packhouse, that omegas should be grateful to serve their betters. It was “pack balance.” It was “tradition.”

What it was, really, was cruelty dressed up nice.

“Careful,” sneered a voice to her left. “Do try not to drop anything today. I don’t think your pretty face could handle another meeting with Alpha Draven’s temper.”

Lillieth didn’t look at who’d spoken.

She knew the voice.

Cassia.

Cassia was twenty and gorgeous in that bright, attention-seeking way. Honey-brown hair, tanned skin, curves she made obvious in whatever she wore. Laughter like bells—if bells could cut. She had a talent for getting too close to Draven whenever he walked past. She also had a talent for elbowing Lillieth into things.

“I remember last time,” Cassia went on, loud enough for the whole kitchen to hear. “Such a scene. You crying on your knees like a kicked pup.”

A few of the other girls snickered. Lillieth kept her eyes down, hands steady. If she fed Cassia, Cassia would bite deeper. If she didn’t respond, maybe Cassia would get bored.

Cassia leaned in closer anyway, her breath touching Lillieth’s cheek. “You think you’re better than the rest of us, don’t you? You think you’re special because you’ve got that face. Those eyes. That hair.”

Lillieth said nothing.

Cassia smiled without warmth. “But you’re not special. Do you hear me? You’re nothing here. Nothing. He’ll never pick you.”

The words cut deeper than they should have.

Her? Picked?

The idea was so absurd, it should have made her laugh.

No Alpha claimed an omega as Luna. Not unless he wanted the pack to question his strength, to question his judgment. Especially not an omega with no family status, no alliance value, no wealth, no fighting rank.

Especially not an omega like Lillieth.

Lillieth had no last name anyone spoke.

Lillieth had no one who would fight for her.

Lillieth had nothing to offer but herself—and here, that wasn’t a gift. It was bait.

Cassia hummed, pleased with the silence she’d created. “That’s what I thought.”

“Cassia,” Marla’s voice cut across the room. “Enough. Don’t waste your time taunting garbage. We have an Alpha to feed.”

A chorus of movement followed those words. Platters were arranged. Meat was carved. Coffee was poured. The kitchen shifted from chatter to tension.

Because he was coming.

Because Alpha Draven did not wait.

Lillieth could feel it, the way the air itself went tight, like a bowstring being drawn back. She swallowed and wiped her wet hands quickly on her worn dress, heart stuttering faster and faster without her permission.

She'd seen Draven before, of course. Everyone in MoonRiver had. He’d been Alpha for three years and terror for all three. But Lillieth had learned, for her own safety, to observe him from the edges. From shadow. From where he wouldn’t notice her.

You lived longer when he didn’t notice you.

The double doors swung open.

Every instinct in Lillieth’s body screamed submit.

Silence fell like a dropped blade.

Alpha Draven stepped into the kitchen with his Beta, Kade, at his shoulder. He didn’t belong in a kitchen. He didn’t belong anywhere mundane. Power followed him like a scent.

He was not the largest male in the room—Kade was broader in the shoulders, thicker in the arms—but Draven carried himself like the world bowed a little wherever he walked. His dark brown hair fell in a messy sweep over his forehead, the ends brushing his brows. There was a silver ring through his lower lip, and two small black hoops along the cartilage of his left ear. The piercings should’ve looked rebellious, careless.

They looked lethal on him.

His eyes, though.

They weren’t warm brown, like Lillieth had expected the first time she’d dared to glance up. They weren’t honey, or amber, or gold like so many wolves with power. His eyes were steel.

No.

Not steel.

Storm.

Gray with that hint of violence inside. The color of a sky right before lightning split it open.

He was in a black shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, revealing veined forearms roped in lean muscle. A thin scar ran across one knuckle on his right hand, pale against tan skin. The shirt strained over his chest and shoulders. He moved like a weapon sheathed in human skin.

His scent hit her a second later.

Woodsmoke and rain. Fresh earth after a storm. Something darker beneath it—blood, rage, heat. It rolled through her lungs and she panicked at the way her body reacted.

No. No, no, no.

Please, Goddess, no.

“Report,” Draven said.

Kade cleared his throat, handing over a folded sheet of notes. “Border is clear. Rogues haven’t pushed back since last week’s warning. Patrol rotation is solid. Hunting teams pulled in three deer and a hog last night. We can stock the freezers within the next hour.”

Draven nodded once. He barely seemed to listen, and yet Lillieth knew—everyone knew—that he missed nothing. She had seen him correct warriors using details they thought he hadn’t heard. She had watched him call lies like he could smell them.

His wolf was infamous.

Red.

It wasn’t a rumor. She had seen it herself once, from a distance. The MoonRiver wolves had gone out to drive off rogues that had wandered too close to the southern border. She hadn’t been permitted near the fighting—omegas were forbidden anywhere near conflict unless it was to clean up the mess afterward—but she’d caught a glimpse from the treeline. A flash of movement, a growl that shook her bones.

A wolf, massive and furious, with a coat like fresh blood.

They called him the Beast of the Silver Vale.

They said the Moon Goddess cursed him at birth, made his wolf that color to warn everyone: this Alpha would never love. He would only hunger.

Lillieth believed it.

“Food,” Draven said simply.

That was the signal.

Marla practically glided forward with a platter of seared meat like a priestess delivering an offering. Cassia followed with a tray of roasted potatoes dusted with herbs. Two other pack females carried mugs of coffee and water. Everyone moved in a practiced circle around the Alpha like planets around a sun.

They did not look at him for too long.

They did not touch him unless invited.

No one ever touched him without invitation.

Lillieth knew this rule with a scar.

She had not meant to touch him. She’d tripped. Someone had shoved her and she’d stumbled into him, her hands bracing against his chest.

He’d grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall before she could gasp an apology.

He hadn’t squeezed hard enough to crush anything. He didn’t have to. The message had landed. Omegas do not touch the Alpha.

Those fingers—those same fingers—now wrapped around a fork as he cut into his meat, slow and controlled. He didn’t sit. He didn’t waste time in chairs like normal men. He stood at the head of the long center table, eating in silence, watching everyone else with that predator awareness.

Lillieth kept her eyes down. She focused on stacking plates, on filling glasses, on moving quiet, quiet, quiet.

And then fate destroyed her.

A cup slipped.

Her hands were slick from condensation and the handle was small and she’d had barely any sleep and she was tired and sore and cold and—

The ceramic mug tipped.

It hit the stone floor.

It shattered.

For one long heartbeat, she could hear nothing but the sound of her own pulse hammering in her ears.

Please.

Please.

Please.

She dropped to her knees instantly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll clean it, I’ll—”

The room had gone silent.

No laughter now.

No mocking whispers.

Just… waiting.

Because sometimes, Draven let little mistakes slide. Sometimes. If he was distracted. If his temper was already fed by something else. If he’d already hurt someone that morning and wasn’t hungry for more.

But sometimes—

Her hands shook as she reached for the largest shard. Her braid slid over her shoulder, pooling on the floor like liquid night.

And then she felt it.

A pull.

It punched through her chest so hard she gasped.

It was like being hooked from the inside, like something had sunk claws into her ribs and yanked forward. Heat shot through her veins. Her heartbeat went feral, slamming against her throat, racing so fast she thought she might pass out.

Her breath caught.

Her vision tunneled.

The room, the voices, the air itself—all of it fell away.

There was only him.

She hadn’t looked.

She hadn’t meant to look.

But she couldn’t not.

Her chin lifted, slow and trembling, and her gaze collided with Alpha Draven’s.

The world tore open.

The bond slammed into her with the force of a lightning strike.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t the delicate, shimmering feeling the old stories whispered about, where the Goddess wrapped two souls in moonlight.

It was violent.

It was need.

Her lungs forgot how to work. Her body tilted toward him without her permission, like gravity had shifted and he was the only solid point in a breaking world. Her wolf—silent for years, dead for years—lunged awake in a snarl so fierce it made her choke.

Mate.

The word ripped through her skull, her blood, her bones.

Her wolf's voice.

Nyx.

Nyx was awake.

Nyx was screaming.

MATE.

Lillieth’s lips parted on a small, shocked sound as pain and relief and terror all crashed through her at once. Her heart felt like it was going to split wide in her chest.

Alpha Draven had gone still.

He stared at her, his face carved in stone, no readable emotion there for several long, horrible seconds. But his eyes—his storm-gray eyes—flickered.

Shock.

Then fury.

Then something like horror.

“No,” he said, but it was barely air. Barely sound.

Kade turned his head, confused. “Alpha?”

Draven didn’t answer him. His gaze was pinned on Lillieth like a blade to the throat. “No,” he repeated, louder this time, venom curling under the word. His lip curled back over his teeth. “No. Goddess-damned no.”

Lillieth's stomach dropped.

She swallowed, throat tight. “Al—”

“Shut up,” he snarled.

The kitchen collectively flinched.

Lillieth bowed her head so fast her braid whipped forward across her face. She pressed her hands flat to the stone floor, shards of the broken mug biting into her palms, cutting skin. She didn't care. She barely felt it over the wild pounding in her chest.

He hates this.

He hates this.

He hates me.

Her vision blurred.

The bond between them pulsed. Alive. Demanding. It coiled through her like a living thing, like roots digging in, like fire catching dry leaves. It shouldn't have been possible to feel so much so fast. It shouldn't have been possible to ache for someone who had never touched her gently, never spoken her name like it mattered.

Mate.

Luna.

Future.

The pack would already be thinking it. Whispering it. A mate bond was sacred. No Alpha could ignore it.

Except—

Draven took one slow step toward her.

And the air changed.

His rage rippled off him like heat. Cassia stumbled back, eyes wide. Marla straightened but said nothing. No one dared move.

Lillieth kept her forehead close to the floor. Submit. Submit. Submit.

His boots stopped inches from her fingers.

Up close, his scent crashed through her again. Woodsmoke. Storm. Blood. It made her dizzy. It made something low in her abdomen ache in a way that terrified her.

She heard the quiet intake of his breath.

Then, in a voice that was cold enough to freeze bone, he said, “Look at me.”

Her heart tripped.

Her body obeyed before her mind had time to be afraid.

She lifted her gaze, slowly, slowly, until she was staring up at him from her knees.

And for a moment—a single, shattering heartbeat—there was nothing but him.

Gods, he was beautiful.

Not pretty. Not clean. Beautiful like a blade was beautiful. Beautiful like stormlight over a battlefield. His jaw was sharp, dusted with the dark shadow of stubble. A small scar cut through his left brow. His mouth, even with the metal caught in his lower lip, was full, almost too full for the rest of his harsh face. He shouldn't have looked young.

He did.

He shouldn't have looked breakable.

He didn’t.

“Say it,” Kade breathed behind him, almost reverent. “Alpha—she’s—”

“She’s nothing,” Draven snapped.

The word hit like a slap.

Lillieth flinched.

Something ugly twisted in Draven’s expression, like the bond was physically hurting him. His hands clenched at his sides, veins standing out in his forearms. He looked like he wanted to tear something apart. Preferably her.

“The Moon Goddess made a mistake,” he said, loud enough for the room to hear. “She dares to tie me to… to this?”

There was a murmur around them—shock, excitement, envy, horror all blending together.

Cassia’s eyes flashed with hate.

Marla's lips parted, then pressed into a delighted, poisonous smile.

Lillieth tried to speak, voice shaking. “I—I didn’t—”

“Silence.”

That one word wasn’t just sound.

It was command.

It hit her like a wave, crashing into her bones, forcing obedience. Her throat closed. The rest of her body dropped lower without her consent. She pressed her palms against the cold floor, breathing hard through her nose.

Her eyes stung.

She would not cry.

She wouldn't.

Not here. Not in front of them.

Not in front of him.

Draven leaned down until his face was level with hers. Up close like this, the difference in their sizes felt almost obscene. He wasn't a giant, but he was power. He was 6'1 of controlled rage and sharpened strength, and she could feel it in the bond like static under her skin.

He stared at her, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. He wasn't looking in admiration. He was assessing her like a problem. Like a threat.

“I don’t care what thread the Goddess spun,” he said softly, so only she could hear. The softness made it worse. “I don’t care what magic snapped awake. Hear me, omega. I will never claim you.”

Her stomach knotted.

Claim.

The word meant everything.

Claiming meant acknowledging the bond. Marking. Binding power. Lifting her to Luna.

Without a claim?

She was nothing.

Worse than nothing.

Unclaimed mates didn’t get protected.

Unclaimed mates became targets.

He straightened and raised his voice again, addressing the room. “From this moment,” he said, every word precise, crisp, deadly controlled, “Lillieth is forbidden from using that word for me. She will not address me as mate. She will not speak of any bond. She will not approach me unless ordered. She will not touch me. She will not sleep in packhouse quarters. She will remain where she belongs.”

A slow, cold horror spread through Lillieth’s chest.

Where she belongs.

He didn’t mean her pallet by the kitchen hearth.

He meant the omega barracks.

The omega barracks weren’t inside.

They were out back, past the training grounds, near the old kennels.

Filthy. Cold. Exposed.

Her heart hammered faster. Her skin felt too tight.

“Alpha,” Kade said carefully, like a man trying to step between a wildfire and a dry forest. “The bond—there are consequences if you—”

Draven turned his head slowly. “Are you questioning me?”

Kade shut his mouth.

The kitchen held its breath.

Draven looked back down at Lillieth. “Stand.”

Her legs refused at first. They were shaking too hard. She forced them anyway, pushing herself upright, keeping her eyes low, her chin tucked, her braid falling forward over her shoulder to hide the heat in her face.

Standing brought her close enough to feel his body heat.

That was a mistake.

Her wolf surged against her ribs with a needy, desperate sound, and Lillieth had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the whimper that tried to escape.

Mine.

The word pulsed through her from Nyx, raw and possessive and wild.

Lillieth swallowed hard.

He isn't. He doesn't want us. He—

Draven’s nostrils flared, and for a split second, something flickered in his eyes. Want. She would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been this close. If she hadn’t been drowning in him.

Then it was gone.

His voice dropped lower, dangerous. “You will continue your duties. You will work. You will serve. You will obey every command given to you by any ranked wolf in this pack. You will accept punishment without question.”

Lillieth’s throat tightened.

Punishment.

He was giving them permission.

Out loud.

In front of witnesses.

No one would hold back now.

Her voice was barely more than air. “Yes, Alpha.”

Something unreadable flashed across his face at the sound of her voice saying that word in that tone. His jaw flexed.

Then he leaned in just enough that only she could hear his next words.

“And you,” he whispered, the words like a blade dragged sweetly along skin, “will never, ever believe that you are mine. Do you understand me, omega?”

Her wolf howled inside her.

Her chest hurt so badly she thought she might scream.

She forced the answer past numb lips. “Yes, Alpha.”

He pulled back.

“Good,” he said to the room. “Now clean up your mess.”

He turned away from her.

And that—

That hurt more than any strike she’d ever taken.

Because when he turned, she felt it.

Through the bond.

Like a cord, raw and new, connecting their chests.

And he walked away from her.

And it felt like skin being peeled from muscle.

Pain lanced through her sternum so suddenly her knees buckled. She swallowed the cry that rose, barely managing to brace a shaking hand on the table so she didn’t collapse in front of him.

He didn’t look back.

Of course he didn’t.

Alpha Draven walked out of the kitchen with Kade at his side, warriors falling in behind him like shadows. The kitchen exhaled all at once in a flurry of whispers.

“Did you hear—?”

“He said never claim—”

“The Goddess mated him to her?”

“Maybe he’ll kill her.”

“Oh, please, Marla, don’t tease me—”

Cassia’s laughter cut through the noise, too sweet, too bright. “Well,” she purred, circling Lillieth like a cat that had finally caught a crippled bird. “That was exciting. Congratulations, I guess? You’re a disgrace now officially instead of just in theory.”

Lillieth couldn’t answer.

She couldn’t breathe.

She pressed a hand against her chest, right over her heart. The bond burned there, hot and raw and wrong. She felt sick. Her vision swam.

Nyx was pacing inside her, raking claws against her ribs.

He’s ours. He’s ours. He’s ours. WHY IS HE LEAVING—

Lillieth squeezed her eyes shut.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him not to hate her.

She wanted to bite him.

She wanted to curl up and disappear.

She wanted—she didn’t even have words for what she wanted. Everything felt too big. Too much. Too fast.

And then Marla’s voice slid in, hateful and smooth.

“On your knees.”

Lillieth opened her eyes, dazed. “What?”

Marla smiled with her teeth. She loved smiling when she was about to hurt someone. “You made a mess. You heard the Alpha. Clean it.”

Lillieth blinked at the shattered ceramic still scattered across the stone floor. It sparkled faintly in the kitchen light like broken ice. Her palms were already bleeding from where she’d grabbed at it too fast. Her head felt light. The world was still tilting from the bond.

“Now,” Marla said, her voice turning sharp. “With your hands. And don’t you dare drip on the Alpha’s floor.”

Cassia giggled.

Lillieth sank back down to the floor.

Her knees hit stone. The pain grounded her, barely.

She pressed her shaking fingers to the shards, gathering them by feel instead of sight. They sliced deeper into already-torn skin. Bright pinpricks of red dotted the floor under her hands.

“Careful,” Cassia cooed in false sympathy, leaning against the table and pretending to watch her nails. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect skin. That’s all you’ve got, after all.”

“Maybe Draven will scar it for her,” someone else muttered. “Mark her so nobody else has to look at her.”

“I hope he does,” Marla said, voice dreamy. “Right across her face. Deep.”

Lillieth’s hands didn’t stop.

She wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing her flinch.

She wouldn’t.

Her vision blurred for a second, and she sucked in another breath, forcing her focus to stay small. Shards. Hands. Bleed. Gather. Ignore the way her heart felt like it was tearing. Ignore the bond thrumming through her veins. Ignore everything but the work.

You survive by staying small.

You survive by staying silent.

You survive by not fighting what you cannot beat.

She repeated those truths in her head like prayer until her pulse finally stopped racing so violently.

When the last visible shard was stacked in her palm and her blood was dripping slow and sticky down her wrist, Marla clicked her tongue.

“You missed one,” she said sweetly.

Lillieth looked up.

Marla kicked a small sliver of ceramic toward her face. It sliced a neat, shallow line along Lillieth’s cheekbone.

Cassia clapped quietly like it was entertainment. “Oops.”

Warmth trickled down Lillieth’s cheek. She did not react.

Marla’s smile thinned, mildly annoyed that she hadn’t gotten a flinch. “Omega quarters,” she said coolly. “Now. Take your things and get out of the kitchen hall before sunrise. You were told where you belong.”

Lillieth swallowed.

Her throat still hurt from where Draven had ordered silence. “Yes, Beta Marla.”

Marla’s eyes flashed with triumph at the way Lillieth’s voice cracked.

Cassia leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to make sure Lillieth heard the last cut. “Enjoy the kennels, little Luna.”

That word.

That word.

Luna.

It twisted like a knife in her gut.

She was not Luna. He had said so. He had said it in front of everyone. He had made sure they all heard.

She was nothing.

Nothing but a mistake the Moon Goddess had dropped at his feet.

Lillieth turned and left the kitchen without another sound.

The hall outside the kitchens opened into the main corridor of the packhouse. Normally she kept to back routes and service passageways, all the narrow stone halls and ladder-tight staircases that omegas used to stay out of sight. But her body felt unsteady and floaty now, like she’d lost blood, like she’d lost air, like she’d lost something, and she found herself walking down the main corridor without thinking.

The walls here were covered in old hunting trophies. Claw marks scarred the support beams—marks left by Alphas long dead, proof of dominance, victory, rage. Torches snapped and spit resin-scented smoke, lighting the long spine of the hallway in flickering gold.

Her vision wavered again.

Every step away from the kitchen made the tearing in her chest worse.

She didn’t understand.

She pressed her hand harder to her sternum, fingers curling in her worn dress. “Stop,” she whispered under her breath. “Please stop. Please—”

The bond pulsed.

Her knees nearly gave out.

She caught herself against the wall, bracing, gasping softly.

It felt like a hook buried deep behind her ribs, and someone kept yanking it. Hard. Farther. Farther. Like she was being dragged away from oxygen.

Oh.

Understanding slid in, cold and awful.

It hurts when he walks away.

The mate bond was new. Fresh. Raw. The tether between them was bleeding, unsettled. Her wolf—wild, awake, ravenous—wanted him close. Her body wanted him close.

But he did not want her close.

And that felt like punishment written into her bones.

Lillieth forced herself upright again. Slow steps. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

She reached the servants’ hall and ducked into the alcove where she kept her things.

Things was a generous word.

She had a thin blanket. A second dress, mended so many times the seams looked like scars. A small brush made of carved bone and boar bristle that she used to keep her braid smooth. A flat river stone she’d picked up when she was younger because it looked like a crescent moon.

And under the blanket, wrapped in a scrap of old shirt so no one would steal it, a tiny silver pendant shaped like a teardrop.

She didn’t know where it had come from. She’d been wearing it when the pack found her at nine years old, small and shivering and half-feral on the edge of MoonRiver territory. No one claimed her. No one came looking. They kept the pendant from her for almost a year, said she’d stolen it. Then they’d given it back only because they thought it wasn’t worth anything.

She touched it now, quickly, like a secret prayer, then tucked it into the front of her dress where it rested against her skin.

Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely fold the blanket.

Goddess.

Goddess, what am I going to do?

If Draven refused to claim her, the pack would follow his lead. They’d treat her exactly how he had just told them to. Worse, actually. Because now she was interesting. Now hurting her felt like defying the Goddess and pleasing the Alpha in one go.

It would get bad.

Worse than before.

Much worse.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of the omega barracks. She’d slept there once as punishment. Once was enough to memorize the smell.

Damp straw. Mold. Cold stone. Urine. Old blood.

Her wolf snarled at the idea. Nyx was pacing again, slamming against the inside of her skin like a caged creature. Unacceptable. Unfit. We are not livestock. We are Alpha’s—

Lillieth’s throat tightened. He doesn’t want us.

Nyx’s answering sound was pure, vicious rage.

Lillieth swallowed, hard.

She didn’t have the luxury of rage.

She had survival.

She gathered her things, hugged them to her chest, and started toward the back exit.

The farther she got from the main heart of the packhouse, the colder the air became. The back corridors weren’t heated and the stone floor leeched warmth straight out of her bare feet. By the time she reached the last heavy door, her breath was fogging again in the air.

She pushed it open and stepped outside.

The world out back was harsher.

The morning mist hadn’t lifted yet. It hung low around the training grounds like torn cloth, catching on the wooden posts and weapon racks. The ground out here was packed dirt and dried blood, scarred with claw marks and boot prints. Beyond that lay the line of old kennels, long since emptied of actual dogs.

They used them for omegas now.

Especially the ones that stepped out of line.

The barracks sat just past them. A long, low building of gray stone and rotting timber. No glass in the windows. Just slats. Just gaps.

Wind cut through it like knives.

Lillieth stared at it from the edge of the training grounds, clutching her blanket so tight her knuckles ached.

Her wolf was still snarling.

Her own heart was still bleeding.

Her cheek still stung where Marla had nicked it. Her palms still throbbed where ceramic had bit in. Her core still hummed traitorously with the imprint of his nearness, the echo of his scent, the sound of his voice saying good like it should have been praise.

Something inside her cracked.

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It was just… quiet.

A line, splitting along the center of her.

She was so tired.

So tired of being hurt.

So tired of pretending she didn’t feel it.

So tired of being small, and silent, and nothing.

Her eyes burned hot, and this time she didn’t fight it. She let the tears rise. She let them slip over her lashes and down her cheeks, warm tracks in the cold air. She stared at the barracks and thought of the stories omegas told in whispers when the higher ranks weren’t listening.

Sometimes the omegas who were sent there didn’t come back.

Sometimes they just… disappeared.

Run, little star, Nyx had whispered to her once.

Run.

She couldn’t.

There was nowhere to go.

MoonRiver’s borders were patrolled day and night. Rogues prowled the forest. Other packs tore trespassers apart for sport. The human towns were too far and too dangerous. Wolves that tried to live human didn’t live long.

This was it.

This had always been it.

Her fate.

Her prison.

Her grave, if she wasn’t careful.

A sound carried across the grounds. A low, vicious snarl. A body hitting dirt. Male voices, sharp and excited. Training had started.

Which meant he was close.

Which meant Draven was near.

The bond yanked so hard she gasped.

Her knees buckled a little and she caught herself on the weathered fence that separated the training ring from the rest of the yard. The wood was rough against her palm, splintering into her already-cut skin. She barely felt it.

She should go to the barracks.

If she didn’t, Marla would come looking. And Marla wouldn’t come alone.

She should move.

She should obey.

But her feet wouldn’t go.

The bond hummed, insistent, begging, hurting.

Her wolf was pressing hard against the inside of her skin now, less rage and more a frantic, keening sound. Closer. Need. Ours. Mate hurt. Mate angry. Fix it. FIX IT—

Lillieth sucked in a shaking breath and did the only dangerous, stupid thing she had ever allowed herself:

She peeked.

Just once.

Just for a second.

Through the mist, past the practice dummies and the sparring ring, Alpha Draven moved like war.

He was shirtless now.

Of course he was.

His skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat despite the cold, muscles flexing and rolling under tan flesh as he moved. He wasn’t bulky in that slow, heavy way some warriors were. He was cut. Lean. Every line of him carved and honed like he’d been built to run down prey and tear it open.

A dark patch of hair trailed from his navel down into the waistband of his training pants. Claw marks—old ones, pale and healed—sliced over his left shoulder and across his ribs. There was a newer bruise forming along his jaw, deepening to purple at the edge of his stubble.

Lillieth stared, heat flooding her face, her throat, lower.

Her breath hitched.

He was sparring with Kade, and if Kade hadn’t been Beta, it would’ve been a slaughter. Draven moved too fast. He struck like a striking snake, sharp and precise. A low growl vibrated from him every time he landed a hit. His eyes were glowing faintly, not fully shifted, but wolf-close.

Red flickered under his skin.

Lillieth’s heart squeezed.

Her wolf made a soft, broken sound.

He’s perfect.

He’s ours.

He’ll never be ours.

Her chest hurt so much she thought maybe this was it. Maybe you could actually die of a bond that wasn’t fed. Maybe that was the Moon Goddess’s idea of balance. Tie a monster to something delicate. Starve them both.

As if he felt her gaze, Draven’s head snapped up mid-spar.

His eyes locked on her.

Time stopped.

Again.

Her breath froze in her throat. Her fingers dug into the fence post. Her stomach flipped so hard she swayed.

He went still.

So still that Kade’s next punch slammed into his ribs without resistance. Draven didn’t even grunt. Kade swore, stumbling back instantly when he realized what had happened. “Alpha—”

Draven ignored him.

His gaze was ice and fire at once, fury and hunger and something Lillieth couldn’t read coiling together like smoke behind his eyes. The bond between them thrummed, bright and savage, and she felt it—felt his reaction—as if it were her own. A flash of heat. A slash of anger. A pulse of need that made her thighs press together before she could stop the motion.

His nostrils flared.

Her face burned.

Then his expression slammed shut.

“Inside,” he barked over his shoulder, not looking away from her. His voice cracked like a whip across the training grounds. “Cool down without me.”

“Yes, Alpha,” came the chorus of voices.

No one argued.

They scattered, fast.

Kade shot Lillieth a look as he jogged off—half pity, half warning. He didn’t stop. He didn’t speak.

Draven stayed where he was for a long, terrible moment, chest rising and falling, fists clenched at his sides. Lillieth couldn’t move. She felt like a deer in a poacher’s sights, heart throwing itself helplessly against her ribs.

Then he moved.

Not toward her.

Past her.

Right past her.

Like she wasn’t there.

Like the bond meant nothing.

Like she was nothing.

As he walked by, the scent of him slammed into her so hard she nearly moaned. Humiliation flushed through her so hot she swayed and had to grip the fence tighter.

He didn’t spare her a glance.

His voice, though, low and lethal, brushed her as he passed.

“Get used to it,” he muttered without looking at her.

Her breath stuttered.

He kept walking.

Away from her.

The bond screamed.

And Lillieth understood.

This was her life now.

She was the Moon-blessed mate of an Alpha who refused her.

An omega, unwanted.

A Luna, unclaimed.

A beautiful little nothing that everyone would be allowed to break.

Her wolf raged.

Her heart bled.

And the MoonRiver Forest watched, quiet and hungry, as Lillieth wrapped her thin blanket tighter around herself, lifted her chin despite the tears on her face, and walked toward the barracks.

Not because she was weak.

No.

Because she was still alive.

And in MoonRiver, surviving was the first step to becoming dangerous.