Rhea

The ballroom had been gutted and rebuilt into something out of a dream—or a nightmare, depending on who you asked.

Silver Ridge Pack didn’t do “small.” The vaulted ceiling shimmered with charmed starlight, runes etched into the beams glowing faintly like constellations. Crystal chandeliers dripped from above, each prism throwing fractured light across the marble floors until it felt like I was walking inside the night sky itself. Dark velvet banners hung from the walls, embroidered with the Caine crest—a wolf encircled by stormlight—reminding everyone whose land this was.

The long banquet tables had been pushed aside to make way for a central dance floor, the edges lined with flickering lanterns carved with protective sigils. The air itself hummed with faint magic, wards layered thick to keep tempers in check—because when you shoved this many young into one room, you needed more than polite society to keep things from combusting.

I smoothed my hands down the dress the boys had somehow conjured out of thin air for me—still not over that miracle—and tried not to gape like a wide-eyed scolarship kid like I was supposed to belong here. Supposed to walk in with my head high, like the whispers didn’t cut, like the bond tethering me to four thirty-five-year-old Alphas wasn’t a neon sign flashing above my head.

But the truth was written in every corner of the room. The stares. The envy. The fear.

Little Luna. Sunshine. Their words still clung to me, but I didn’t even know why they’d chosen them. All I knew was that the ballroom wasn’t just decorated for Lila’s party tonight—it was a stage. And I was about to walk straight into the center of it.

Then…

The ballroom doors slammed open like the Moon Goddess herself had blown them wide.

And there they were.

Four shadows spilling into light.

Every breath in the room stilled as dominance rolled through the air like thunder before lightning, rattling the chandeliers overhead. My chest tightened, tether tugging hard, and every rune etched into the marble floor flared brighter, silver veins sparking in rhythm with their steps.

The quads.

My quads.

They didn’t rush. Didn’t need to. Every stride was deliberate, the kind that made even seasoned wolves bow their heads without thinking.

The air changed when they stepped through the doors. Four currents of dominance clashing and twining, impossible to ignore. Every wolf in the ballroom turned instinctively, the pull of power undeniable.

Callum—my Storm—moved first. Controlled. Relentless. The precision in his stance was the same as when he gave orders in the training yards, every detail sharpened until there was no mistaking who led the charge. His presence didn’t need a roar; it was the weight of thunder before lightning, the certainty that the skies would break if he willed it.

Beside him, Jaxon burned. Blaze. His very existence felt like a dare, like the room wasn’t big enough to hold the fire inside him. He walked with predator grace, his emerald gaze sweeping the crowd until it landed on me, holding, burning, scorching. My breath caught. I remembered too well the promise he’d murmured against my skin: You’re ours, sunshine.

Seth trailed like a storm off-kilter, Rogue through and through. He didn’t posture the way Callum did, didn’t burn the way Jaxon did. He just was—unpredictable, untamed, his grin daring anyone to test him. I watched a wolf step too close to his path, only to veer off at the last second when Seth tilted his head with that sharp grin that said try me. Chaos followed him like a shadow.

And Rory—my Prince. Not because he was polished, but because he made everyone want to watch him. His midnight suit shimmered faintly under the chandeliers, the runes woven into the fabric catching flashes of light like starlight. He wore attention like a crown, careless and charming, every glance a hook. His eyes found mine, and his smirk deepened, wicked and knowing.

Together, they didn’t just enter a room. They claimed it.

And me?

I stood at the center of it all, in a dress chosen by their hands, marked already by whispers that would never let me forget: Little Luna. Sunshine.

Once, those words had felt like chains. Tonight, they were something else. Heavier. Maybe not chains—but not freedom, either.

My heart squeezed. I didn’t know if it was a good thing or the beginning of my undoing.

Storm. Blaze. Rogue. Prince.

The four storms of my life.

And they were all looking at me.

The tether in my chest tugged so sharply I almost stumbled.

Callum’s gaze caught mine first, steady, unwavering, and the corner of his jaw ticked as his eyes dragged down the length of my dress.

Jaxon’s stare followed a heartbeat later, and his lips curved—not a smile, not even close. A wicked, slow tilt that promised he’d been right about everything, about how I’d look wrapped in silk and ruin.

Seth whistled low under his breath, a sharp sound that made half the crowd flinch. His gaze raked over me shamelessly, and his grin widened like I’d just stepped onto his playing field.

And Rory… Rory’s eyes softened, almost reverent, even as his grin stayed firmly in place. He mouthed a single word across the ballroom, slow enough I couldn’t mistake it.

“Princess.”

Heat climbed my throat, spreading across my skin until I thought the dress itself might combust.

The crowd whispered louder, buzzing like hornets, their voices tumbling over each other in frantic disbelief.

“She’s theirs.”

“Look at them.”

“Moon Goddess help them.”

But all I could hear was the pulse pounding in my ears, the tether pulling me toward them until I forgot there was a whole world between us.

They didn’t stop walking until they stood before me.

The runes under their boots glowed so brightly I swore they’d burn holes through the marble. Their dominance pressed down heavy, but it wasn’t aimed at me. Not this time. It was aimed at everyone else, every gawking wolf who dared whisper too loud, every sneer that cut my way.

Callum’s voice carried first, smooth, commanding, impossible to ignore. “Little Luna.”

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t cold. They were steady, certain, like a title spoken before a throne.

My breath caught.

Seth’s smirk tilted. “Snowflake.” His tone was different than usual, low, almost coaxing. Not mocking. Almost… protective.

Rory chuckled, warm and teasing, but his golden eyes never left mine. “Princess.”

And Jaxon—he stepped closer, close enough that I swore sparks flared where the slit of my dress brushed against his trousers. His hand lifted, just barely skimming a strand of my hair back into place, fingers brushing skin. He didn’t speak it loud. He whispered, so only I could hear.

“Sunshine.”

The ballroom faded. The music, the whispers, the tension—they all dimmed under the weight of that one word breathed against my skin.

My chest rose too fast, too shallow, and my body betrayed me—leaning, shivering, answering a bond that still terrified me.

They hadn’t explained it yet. Why they called me these things. Why each nickname carried something different in their tone. But standing there in front of them, their eyes burning into me, I realized the truth:

I didn’t know if those names were cages. Or if they were the first cracks in the walls I’d built.

And that terrified me more than anything.

“Dance with us,” Jaxon said, and it wasn’t a question.

The music swelled. The crowd shifted, watching, waiting.

And surrounded by Storm, Blaze, Rogue, and Prince, I stepped forward into the fire.