Rhea

The Packhouse was bracing like it knew a storm was coming. Pack members rushed down the endless green-and-gold corridors carrying trays of crystal and bottles of wine like they were handling holy relics. Guards lined the walls in silver-detailed armour polished until it gleamed under the chandeliers. The air itself was different—thick, charged, alive. I could feel the wards humming faintly in the bones of the house, as though they were preparing themselves for something massive.

Everyone knew why.

The Supreme Alphas were arriving today, and with them, the Triplet Lycan Kings—Tristan, Lucas, and Hayden—the rulers of Lycandra and Lycan’Dra, the three men who even my Alphas would bow their heads to. The quads never bowed, not to anyone, but I’d heard them speak of the triplets with the kind of respect that came laced with old resentment. They were the only wolves alive stronger than my Alphas and The Supremes, the only ones who carried power that could silence entire packs without a word.

Tomorrow was my birthday. My shift. The day the mate bond would solidify and there would be no more questions, no more half-formed sparks dragging me into them whether I wanted it or not. But today, with the Kings and Supremes crossing into Ridge Storm, everything felt like it was spinning too fast, like the world was about to split open at the seams.

The last few days had been different. I had tried with them—Storm, Blaze, Rogue, Prince—the names I whispered in my head because the real ones were too heavy when the bond pulled this tight. They’d given me space when I asked, shadowed me when I didn’t, drawn me into their world with slow patience I didn’t think they had in them. And yet, beneath all of it, I could feel their unease.

My wolf was rising faster than she should have. My dominance was climbing by the day, so sharp and unrelenting that professors flinched when I spoke without raising my voice. The wards at the academy hummed back at me when I touched them, answering like they had been waiting for me.

Storm had been the first to see it, his storm-grey eyes going very still as I corrected a lecture on strategy with a tone no unmated, unshifted wolf should have been able to carry. Blaze had grinned wickedly, like my power was a flame he wanted to stoke until it burned the world. Rogue had muttered that I was dangerous, and he had never sounded more proud. Prince had only smiled quietly, like he’d known all along this was coming.

But under the surface of all that, I felt their confusion. They didn’t know why this was happening, why I was rising too soon, too fast. None of us did. And now, with the Supremes and the Triplets crossing into Ridge Storm, no one would be able to hide it.

I hated that. I hated knowing I was about to be put on display like something to be studied.

“Little Luna.”

The voice snapped me out of my spiral. I looked up sharply to see them enter my room without knocking. They never knocked. Storm came first, suit tailored razor-sharp, tie knotted with military precision, every line of him clean and controlled, hair slicked back so not a strand was out of place. Blaze followed, a shadow of him, but wild—hair unruly, shirt open at the throat, no tie, his grin gone, replaced with the kind of look that made my chest clench. Rogue swaggered in behind him, jacket slung carelessly over his shoulder, his tie hanging loose like he hadn’t bothered to do it right. And Prince closed them out, midnight-blue shirt rolled at the forearms, a coin flicking across his knuckles.

Four men who were identical in blood, in bone, but so different that the air bent differently around each of them.

“You ready?” Storm asked, his voice clipped.

“For what?” My voice was sharper than I meant. “A parade?”

Rogue smirked, but his eyes didn’t ease. “Close. The Supremes want to see us. And you.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. “Me?”

“Sunshine,” Blaze murmured, stepping closer, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with fingers that burned. “They felt you.”

My chest tightened. “Felt me?”

“The bond resonance,” Storm said, his jaw tight. “The wards logged you at a ten out of ten. That reading reached them before we could cover it.”

Ten. Ten out of ten. My knees felt weak. The Dean had said it had never happened before. That it was impossible.

“They’re not here for me,” I whispered.

Rogue crouched so we were eye level, his grin gone. “They don’t come all this way unless they smell blood or power. Guess which one you are, snowflake.”

Prince slipped his coin into his pocket, his expression soft, steady. “They’re going to test you, Princess. The Supremes, the Kings—they won’t admit it, but that’s what this is. They want to know what you are.”

My voice cracked. “And if I don’t know what I am?”

Storm’s gaze was like a blade, steady and cold. “Then we stand. With you.”

Blaze’s thumb traced the inside of my wrist lazily, his voice rough silk. “And if they think about touching you, sunshine, they’ll bleed.”

Rogue grinned again, but there was no humour in it. “I’d pay to see that.”

Prince smiled faintly, like the weight of the room didn’t touch him. “You won’t stand alone.”

My wolf clawed at my chest. My heart hammered. And for the first time, I understood why they called me what they did. Little Luna, because even unshifted, they saw me as theirs. Sunshine, because even when I wanted to vanish, I lit something inside them. Snowflake, because I was rare, untouchable, impossible to replicate. Princess, because I carried something in me I didn’t understand but they bowed to anyway.

The bond pulled. I wanted to let it swallow me whole. But fear still sat heavy in my chest.

I forced a deep breath. “Then let’s get this over with.”

The great hall of Ridge Storm was already brimming with power when we entered. Silver banners hung heavy from the walls, the wolf sigil of Ridge Storm embroidered in gold thread. The chandeliers burned so bright it felt like walking into daylight. Runes lined the marble floor, glowing faintly beneath our steps, answering the ancient wards woven into the stone.

At the far end of the hall, the Supremes stood. Isaiah and Josiah, identical, in matching suits of black and silver. They were mountains of dominance, their presence pressing hard enough that my knees threatened to give.

Behind them, seated on thrones carved from obsidian, were the Lycan Triplets. The Kings. Tristan. Lucas. Hayden. Their names alone had weight, but their presence was heavier. They weren’t just men. They were forces. Their eyes glowed faintly in the rune light, their wolves stretching out across the hall like shadows that had no end.

The quads stiffened beside me, every one of them bracing, shoulders squared, jaws clenched. I felt it through the bond—the instinct to shield me, to throw themselves between me and that crushing weight.

But the pressure only grew. And it wasn’t pressing on them.

It was pressing on me.

The wards flared silver under my feet. My wolf slammed against my chest, furious, insistent, snarling to be freed.

The hall stilled. Every gaze snapped to me.

One of the Supremes whispered, voice sharp with disbelief. “She’s—”

The Triplets leaned forward on their thrones, moving in eerie unison. “Impossible,” one murmured.

The wards howled like wind through iron. Pain split my chest, white-hot. Sparks roared under my skin. I dropped to my knees as claws slid from my fingers, half-formed, my wolf tearing at the boundary of my skin.

The bond with the quads pulled taut, so sharp it burned, their voices breaking through the haze—Sunshine, Snowflake, Princess, Little Luna—but I couldn’t hold.

The hall erupted in a thousand gasps, dominance crackling like fire, the quads’ fury colliding with the Kings’ gravity.

And then—darkness swallowed me whole.