Three

Elara’s POV

I woke up before dawn, the way I always did on mornings that mattered.

The attic was freezing. My breath fogged in the dim light leaking through the cracked window. I pulled the thin blanket tighter around my shoulders and sat up, knees drawn to my chest. The rejection mark wasn’t there yet—today was the day it might appear. Or not.

Eighteen.

The full moon was tonight.

My birthday.

I stared at the small mirror propped against the wall—cracked in one corner, borrowed from the kitchen scraps. My reflection looked back: dark hair tangled from sleep, green eyes too wide, skin pale from too many hours indoors. No glow. No sign of the wolf that refused to wake up.

I touched my neck where the mate mark would go if the Goddess was kind. Nothing. Just skin.

Three days ago I’d told myself I could survive anything as long as tonight happened. Now the nerves felt like knives in my stomach.

I dressed quickly—same white shift every unshifted girl wore for the ceremony, simple cotton that tied at the shoulders. It felt like a shroud. I braided my hair with shaking fingers, tied it with a scrap of ribbon I’d saved from last year’s solstice. Small things. Tiny acts of hope.

Downstairs the kitchen was already alive. Pots clanged. Warriors laughed over coffee. I slipped in through the back door, grabbed an apron, and started on the breakfast trays like any other day.

Lia found me first.

She was carrying a stack of plates, cheeks flushed from the cold outside. When she saw me she froze, then broke into a huge, nervous smile.

“Happy birthday, El.”

I managed a small one back. “Thanks.”

She set the plates down and pulled me into a quick hug—careful, like she was afraid I’d break.

“You nervous?”

“Terrified.”

She squeezed my arm. “It’s going to be amazing. I can feel it. The Goddess doesn’t mess up.”

I wanted to believe her.

We worked side by side for an hour—silent mostly, the way we always did when things were big. She kept stealing glances at me, like she was memorizing my face before everything changed.

Around noon, the bullying started.

Valentina and her pack swept into the dining hall like they owned it—which they practically did. Sienna spotted me first, carrying a tray of fruit.

“Look who’s all dressed up for her big day,” she called, loud enough for half the room to hear.

Heads turned.

Valentina sauntered over, hips swaying, eyes raking me from head to toe.

“White looks good on you,” she said sweetly. “Like a sacrifice.”

Talia laughed. Mira just smiled—small, cold.

I kept moving, setting the tray down.

“Don’t worry,” Valentina continued, stepping close enough that her perfume choked me. “If no one claims you tonight, we’ll find you something to do. Maybe clean the alpha quarters after Damon and I celebrate our official union.”

My hands froze on the tray.

She leaned in, voice a whisper. “He’s going to mark me tonight. Chosen or fated, doesn’t matter. I’m the one he wants. Not some stray who can’t even shift.”

The words landed like punches.

I looked up—straight into her eyes.

For one second, I almost said something. Almost let the rage that had been simmering for years boil over.

But I didn’t.

I just nodded once. “Congratulations in advance.”

Her smile faltered—just a flicker.

Then she laughed, turned on her heel, and left with her friends trailing behind.

Lia appeared at my side the second they were gone.

“You okay?”

“No,” I whispered. “But I will be. After tonight.”

She hugged me again—fiercer this time.

The rest of the day blurred.

I scrubbed floors. Washed dishes. Avoided eye contact with anyone who might pity me.

By dusk, the pack was gathering in the ceremonial clearing. Torches were lit. Drums started their slow rhythm. The moon rose—huge, silver, almost touching the treetops.

I stood at the edge of the woods, waiting for my name to be called.

Lia squeezed my hand one last time before slipping into the crowd.

Elder Mara’s voice carried over the night air.

“Elara Voss, daughter of the moon, step forward.”

My heart slammed so hard I thought everyone could hear it.

I walked into the circle.

The pack watched—some curious, some bored, some openly smirking.

Valentina stood beside Damon, arm looped through his. She looked radiant. Triumphant.

Damon’s eyes met mine for the first time all day.

Blank.

No recognition. No spark.

Just… nothing.

Elder Mara placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Elara Voss, call upon your wolf. Let the Goddess reveal your destined one.”

I closed my eyes.

Reached inside.

Please.

Please let it be him.

Please let it be anyone.

A golden thread shimmered into existence—bright, warm, stretching across the clearing.

It pulled straight to Damon.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The bond hummed—alive, electric, beautiful.

My knees nearly gave out.

Him.

Damon stared at the thread. Then at me.

His face didn’t change.

Valentina’s grip on his arm tightened.

The drums stopped.

Silence.

Damon raised his hand.

“I, Damon Blackthorn, future Alpha of Silver Moon Pack…” His voice was steady. Cold. “…reject you, Elara Voss, as my fated mate and future Luna.”

The thread flickered.

Snapped.

Pain exploded in my chest—white-hot, tearing.

I staggered.

A red mark seared across the side of my neck—burning, throbbing, permanent.

The pack inhaled sharply.

Valentina laughed—clear, delighted.

Damon turned to her. Pulled her close.

He didn’t look at me again.

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

The world narrowed to the mark on my neck and the laughter ringing in my ears.

I turned.

And ran.

Into the dark.

Into the woods.

Away from everything I’d ever hoped for.