CHAPTER 3

ISMAY BELLWEATHER’S POV

“You’re late,” Prudence drawled, her claws clicking against the marble courtyard. “Your father’s influence won’t protect you forever if you keep strutting into Ravenridge as though you own the place.”

Ismay Bellweather held her chin high as she dropped an armful of silk garments onto a stone bench. Her wolf stirred restlessly beneath her skin, unsettled by the memories of her recent visit to the border territory.

“Watch your tongue, Prudence,” Ismay warned, her voice low and dangerous. “You may be sharing my father’s bed, but you’re not Luna yet.”

Prudence smoothed her floral wrap over her rounded figure, her dark eyes flashing with malice.

“Your father left for the northern territories three weeks ago, Ismay. While he’s away, I’m in charge of this house. Your family name won’t mean a thing if I convince Alpha Edmund to cast you out.”

Ismay bared her fangs in warning.

“Go ahead and try. My mother was the true Luna of this family, and no ambitious woman is going to drive me out of my own home.”

“We’ll see about that when the full moon arrives,” Prudence purred, turning on her heel and striding toward the warmth of the pack’s swimming pool. “By the time I’m finished with your father, you won’t have much influence left.”

Ismay clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms. The woman’s audacity made her blood boil. Prudence had clawed her way into Alpha Edmund Bellweather’s favor almost as soon as Ismay’s mother had died.

Ismay turned away and climbed the winding staircase to her private quarters. She needed a plan, and she needed one before the month was over.

Tobin Calder was her best option.

Once inside her room, she glanced at the heavy brass clock above the fireplace.

“Ticktock, Tobin,” she muttered. “I don’t like being kept waiting.”

The following afternoon, Ismay sat beside the café’s corner window, watching rain wash over the cobblestone streets of Ravenridge. The rich aroma of roasted coffee mingled with the scent of damp fur, but her attention remained fixed on the door.

“Your double espresso with extra cream,” the blue-haired server said, setting a porcelain cup on her table. His hand trembled slightly.

“Is Tobin working today?” Ismay asked without looking up from her tablet.

“He’s on the late shift,” the server replied quickly, wiping his hands on his apron. “He said he had some business to take care of near the southern border.”

Ismay nodded, dismissing him.

Her gaze drifted toward the far end of the café, where a mature woman with silver-streaked hair sat alone beside the fireplace. Her posture was rigid, and her golden eyes were fixed on Ismay.

Cressida Bellweather.

The older woman had been keeping an eye on her for three days, always maintaining enough distance to avoid a confrontation. Her presence had kept Ismay’s wolf on edge ever since she first appeared.

Ismay snapped her tablet shut, left a silver coin on the table, and stepped into the crisp autumn air. She needed some space to think before her evening commitment with the pack’s youth program.

She made her way through the crowded streets toward the lower district, stopping outside the brick building that housed the pack’s sanctuary center. The heavy wooden doors were locked for the evening, but a familiar woman emerged from a side alley carrying a wooden crate filled with dried herbs.

“You’re not supposed to be here after hours, Ismay,” Rosaline Firth said, setting the crate on a nearby bench with a heavy thud.

“I lost track of time,” Ismay replied, stepping into the shade.

Rosaline wiped her hands on her trousers and studied Ismay’s tense posture.

“You look like you’re preparing for a fight you can’t win. Has Prudence been giving you trouble again?”

“She thinks she can strip me of my standing before Alpha Edmund returns,” Ismay said flatly. “I came to help you sort the herbs for the younger pups.”

Rosaline let out a low, rumbling laugh.

“You hate this kind of work, Ismay. You’re only here because you can’t stand being alone with your thoughts.”

“Just hand me the dried sage,” Ismay muttered, gathering her long hair into a loose knot.

They worked side by side in the quiet storage room for more than two hours, sorting and bundling herbs for the upcoming ceremonies. Ismay kept her hands busy, but her thoughts repeatedly returned to the rugged wolf she was so determined to recruit.

“You’re going to wear yourself out before the mating run,” Rosaline remarked quietly as she tied the final bundle. “Finding your true mate isn’t something you can arrange with a contract, child.”

“I don’t need a mate,” Ismay snapped, tightening the knot in her twine. “I need someone who can help me get what I want.”

Rosaline said nothing. She simply picked up her crate and checked the iron lantern hanging beside the doorway.

“It’s getting dark. The younger pack members are already gathering at the amphitheater for the evening screening.”

Ismay wiped her hands on a cloth and followed the older woman outside into the cool evening air.

The open-air theater was already crowded with young wolves from across Ravenridge. Ismay stood near the back wall, surveying the gathering, when a petite young woman broke away from the crowd and hurried toward her.

“Ismay! You actually came!” Nellwyn Calder exclaimed, her blue eyes shining in the torchlight.

Ismay’s expression softened, and some of her usual guardedness fell away.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

Nellwyn had joined the sanctuary’s youth program a month earlier. Despite the difficulties of her background, she was bright, spirited, and full of determination. Ismay had found herself growing unexpectedly protective of the girl, something she rarely felt toward anyone outside her immediate circle.

“Did you come alone?” Nellwyn asked, glancing over Ismay’s shoulder toward the dark tree line.

“I always travel alone,” Ismay replied. “Does your brother know you’ve been spending your evenings in Bellweather territory?”

Nellwyn flushed and looked down at her worn boots.

“No. He thinks I’m training with the border patrol. He’s always suspicious of the wealthy packs, but he’s only trying to protect me since our mother died. I don’t want him worrying about me.”

“He has good reason to be cautious,” Ismay said softly.

Her thumb brushed the hidden mark beneath her collarbone.

“Ravenridge isn’t a safe place for wolves without the protection of a powerful pack.”

“I just wish he’d find his mate,” Nellwyn sighed, leaning against the wooden railing beside Ismay. “Maybe then he’d stop pacing the perimeter all night. He’s going to wear himself out before he even turns thirty.”

She turned and studied Ismay with sudden curiosity.

“You two are practically the same age, you know.”

Ismay’s jaw tightened.

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Nellwyn. I’m not interested in finding my mate, and I’m only staying in this territory for the summer.”

Before Nellwyn could respond, a deep, booming horn sounded from the eastern watchtower, cutting through the crowd’s chatter.

Every wolf in the amphitheater fell silent.

A young guard burst through the iron gates, stumbling toward the stage. His breathing was ragged, and blood streaked his uniform.

“The border defenses have fallen!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “A group of wolves has breached the lower valley!”

Ismay’s heart slammed against her ribs.

She grabbed Nellwyn by the shoulder and pulled her behind her as her claws sprang from her fingertips.

Whatever had just happened, it was no ordinary border skirmish.