LOGINAmara is the lowest-ranking omega in the Silver Ridge Pack. Orphaned at twelve, she survived by making herself useful — cooking, cleaning, tending wounds nobody else had patience for. She never expected the Moon Goddess to pair her with Alpha Kael, the most powerful wolf in the region. But on the night of the mating ceremony, in front of the entire pack, Kael looks her in the eyes and says three words that shatter her world: I reject you. He chooses Vanessa, the strong, beautiful daughter of a neighboring alpha. A political match. A power move. Amara is nothing to him. But instead of crumbling, Amara does what no rejected omega has ever done. She walks out of the pack. Alone. With nothing. In the wild, she discovers a group of rogues — wolves cast out from their packs for being different. A blind warrior. A mother with a scarred face. Twin pups with no parents. And leading them all, a scarred, silent alpha named Ronan who trusts no one and speaks even less. Amara also discovers something inside herself she never knew existed. Her hands can heal. Not just wounds but broken bonds, fractured spirits, even cursed wolves. She carries a gift so rare the Moon Goddess herself has not granted it in three hundred years. As Amara builds a new pack from broken pieces, word of the Healing Wolf spreads across the region. Packs that once ignored her now seek her help. Alphas who never knew her name now bow their heads. And Kael, the alpha who threw her away, realizes that the quiet omega he rejected was the most powerful wolf he will ever meet. He comes looking for her. But Amara is no longer his. She is no longer anyone's. She is her own.
View MoreThe kitchen was too quiet.Silence in Silver Ridge usually meant the omegas were working or the Alphas were sleeping. This was different. This was the silence of a grave that had been dug but not filled. I knelt on the cold stone, my fingers inches from the silver needle. It stood perfectly vertical, its point buried in a crack between the floorboards, vibrating so fast it was a blur of metallic light.I reached out. My hand was shaking, the skin raw where the violet threads had been ripped away.The moment my skin touched the silver, a jolt of twin heartbeats slammed into my palm. One was a steady, heavy thrum—granite and woodsmoke. Ronan. The other was a frantic, electric pulse—amber and lightning. Kael.They weren't dead. They were compressed."Amara?"The voice came from the floor. I looked toward the pantry. The heavy wooden trapdoor to the cellar was being pushed upward. Mama Sira’s face appeared in the gap, her eyes wide and bloodshot. She looked at the shattered floor, the eme
The sound of the ghosts feeding wasn't a roar. It was a wet, rhythmic grinding, like a thousand sets of teeth working on a single sheet of glass. I felt the vibration through my palms, traveling up my arms and into my chest, a cold suction that turned my blood into slush. The uncounted were no longer kneeling. They were a swarm, a violet tide of hunger pouring into the obsidian shears, drinking the void-energy Adaeze had spent centuries hoarding.Adaeze shrieked. Her obsidian skin didn't just crack; it began to peel away in jagged flakes, revealing a hollow, lightless space where a soul should have been. She tried to pull the shears back, to close the blades and cut the connection, but the ghosts were a vertical weight she couldn't lift."You're a fool, Amara!" Adaeze’s voice was a ragged, airless gasp. The flaking stone of her face fell away, leaving behind a skull of pure, unadulterated salt. "They won't stop with the shears. They’ve tasted the silence. They’ll eat everything until
Adaeze didn't climb out of the dark. She materialized like a cold thought in a feverish mind. The woman I had left in the mountain temple was gone. This version of her was taller, her dark skin stretched tight over a frame that looked like it was made of polished obsidian. She stepped over the threshold of the floor-eye, the shears in her hand humming with a low, airless frequency.They weren't metal. They were two curved slivers of the void, tied together by a hinge of bone."The harvest is overgrown," Adaeze said. Her voice didn't have the roughness of the temple. It sounded like the sliding of a tombstone. "Iyanla was always a sloppy weaver. She left too many loose ends. Too much sentiment."I stepped back, clutching Hope to my chest. The child was still drinking the silver threads, her silver feathers stained with the violet rot of my mother's power. "You’re dead. Your skull is under that throne."Adaeze glanced at the throne of bone. A flicker of something that might have been a
A decoy.The word was a splash of ice water on a fresh burn. I looked at the woman who had birthed me, who had planned my life in a closet while she wove a throne out of skulls, and the last of my childhood hope died in the silver light of her eyes. I wasn't her daughter. I was her shield. I was the lamb she had tied to the stake to keep the wolves busy while she built her empire."You left me in that kitchen for nine years," I rasped. My voice sounded like it was coming from a different room. "You let me believe I was alone.""I let you survive," Iyanla replied. She pulled a thread of violet light from the air and wrapped it around her wrist. "A healer is a target. A decoy is a ghost. You were safer as a kitchen girl than you ever would have been as my heir."Kael let out a low, wet cough from the floor. He began to move, but it wasn't the movement of a man. Because he had been partially unwoven, his body followed the logic of the silk. He didn't stand; he flowed. He rose like a shad
The forest wanted to kill me. It didn't waste time being subtle about it.Within an hour of leaving the gate, I had tripped twice on roots I couldn't see, sliced the bottom of my left foot on a rock that jutted from the dirt like a tooth, and walked face-first into a branch that whipped across my c
The music started before I reached the end of the corridor.Drums. Deep and celebratory, pounding through the stone walls like a second heartbeat replacing the one that had just been ripped out of my chest. They were already celebrating. The bond was barely cold and they were already drumming for s
The words came out of him like something being torn from a living body."I, Alpha Kael of Silver Ridge, reject Amara as my fated mate and Luna of this pack."The bond did not break. It detonated.White heat tore through my chest like a fist of lightning closing around my spine. My vision went black
Mama Sira knew.I could feel it in her hands, trembling against the six buttons at the back of the borrowed blue dress, finding each hole and losing it again, as if her body was stalling what her mouth refused to say."What do you know?"Her forehead pressed against the back of my shoulder. One sec












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