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THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE
THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE
Author: Ana belle

THE WHITE WOLF IN THE SHADOWS

Author: Ana belle
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-28 03:13:33

The forest whispered her name.

Veyra Hale stood at the edge of the glade, her breath steady but her heart pounding like a war drum. The moon was high, silver light casting shadows that danced between the tall trees of the Moonfang Pack's outer territory. Out here, there were no curious eyes, no judgmental stares—just the wind, the trees, and the cold truth that she did not belong.

She had never belonged.

At twenty-two, Veyra's life had been one long, cautious inhale—never quite able to breathe out. She moved like a ghost among the living, careful not to draw attention, never stepping too far from the outskirts of the pack. Her family had built their home here, a cabin tucked deep in the shadows of the wild, far from the central pack village. It wasn't by chance. It was by design. By fear.

Because Veyra Hale was no ordinary wolf.

She was the white wolf—the last of her kind.

Rare. Forbidden. Hunted.

She tugged the hood of her cloak tighter around her face as the breeze stirred her long silver-blonde hair. The color was a tell, even if most dismissed it as mere genetics. But her family knew better. Her parents had told her the truth when she turned fifteen—on the night she shifted for the first time under a blood moon. Her wolf had emerged not the color of ash or night like the others in the pack, but bright, luminous white. Glowing. Otherworldly.

Her mother had wept. Her father had gone still.

They knew what it meant.

The old legends warned of her kind—white wolves bound to great power, and greater danger. And with power came fear. With fear came death.

So they hid her.

Her mother, Maelin Hale, had enchanted the entire perimeter of their home, casting protective wards in ancient tongues Veyra could never pronounce. Her father, Elias Hale, a battle-hardened beta and warrior with scars older than her, trained her to defend herself in case the wards ever failed. And Jon—her older brother, her rock—watched over her like a second shadow, never too far, always there when the nightmares came.

But hiding came with a price.

She had never played with the other pups. Never joined the pack hunts. Never shifted with the moonrise around the fire circle like the others. While they lived, she lingered.

Veyra sighed and turned back toward the cabin, the wind curling against her cheek like a cold kiss. She didn't belong, but gods, she wanted to. She wanted to run, to laugh, to feel what it was like to not be afraid. Even if just once.

Behind her, a twig snapped.

Veyra's heart leapt into her throat, her wolf rising sharply beneath her skin. It stirred like a second heart, wild and ready, the pull of the shift teasing her bones. Her muscles tensed, her breath caught—then she smelled him.

Pine. Iron. Ash.

"Veyra!"

Jon's voice cracked through the stillness like a blade, firm and sharp. He emerged from the tree line, chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. His black hair was tousled, his eyes fierce and golden. He looked like their father more with each passing year—broad, lethal, a warrior in every breath he took. But his face softened when his eyes landed on her.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he growled, stepping closer, eyes scanning the forest behind her. "You almost shifted, didn't you?"

Veyra looked away, shame flushing her cheeks. "I didn't mean to. Something startled me."

"That's not an excuse," he snapped, then quickly caught himself. His jaw flexed, and he exhaled slowly, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can't afford mistakes. Not here. Not this close to the full moon."

"I know," she whispered. "I just... needed air."

Jon's gaze softened again. "I get it. But you have to be smarter. You know the stories. If anyone finds out—"

"I'll be hunted. Killed. Cursed." She said it bitterly, her voice tight.

He flinched, just a little. "Don't say it like that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

Jon pulled her into a hug before she could pull away. He was always like this—sharp with his words, but gentle with his love. She leaned into him, burying her face in his shoulder for a moment. Here, at least, she could be herself. Even if that self was a caged bird.

They stood there for a while, the forest quieting around them. Then Jon pulled back, brushing a leaf from her hair.

"Let's go back," he said. "Mom made stew."

Veyra hesitated, her eyes lifting toward the trees again. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different?"

"All the time," Jon said. "But wondering doesn't change what is. We protect you because we love you. One day, maybe that won't be necessary."

She nodded slowly, but her heart was heavy. Hope was a dangerous thing.

They walked back together in silence, side by side through the thick underbrush. The Hale family home came into view soon—a two-story cabin made of dark timber and stone, warm light spilling from the windows. It looked normal. Safe. But it was a fortress built on secrets.

Inside, Elias sat sharpening his blade near the fireplace, his presence a constant wall of strength. He didn't speak much, but his eyes met Veyra's as she entered, and she felt the quiet love in his gaze. He gave her a single nod—his way of saying, you're safe.

Maelin turned from the kitchen, her long dark curls falling around her shoulders, her eyes glowing faintly from whatever spell she'd just finished. She smiled, but it was tinged with weariness. Veyra walked to her and wrapped her arms around her mother's waist.

"Were you outside?" Maelin asked softly.

Veyra hesitated, then nodded. "Just for a little while."

Maelin kissed the top of her head. "You must be careful, my heart. The world doesn't yet deserve to see who you truly are."

"I'm tired of hiding," Veyra whispered.

Maelin cupped her cheek gently. "I know. But the moon watches, and the stars remember. Your time will come."

Later that night, as Veyra lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, she felt the weight of a thousand unseen chains on her chest. She was the white wolf in the shadows. Hidden. Protected. Feared.

But something deep within her stirred, ancient and electric.

Change was coming.

She didn't know when. Or how.

But she felt it in her bones.

And so did her wolf.

⸝

Hello everyone,

Finally finally, we have our first chapter.

Thank you for taking your time to join us as we begin the journey of this amazing book.

I hope you all loved the first chapter as we finally get to meet our sweet Veyra.

Let me know your thoughts in the comment session.

Stay on your toes, this is just the beginning. There's still a whole lot to unravel, secrets, love, betrayal and many more. Be rest assured, you'll love it.

Don't forget to vote and recommend to your friends and family.

Until next time,

xoxo.

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  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   A TASTE OF DEATH

    The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon when the ambush came. A sudden rush of movement broke the evening calm, a blur of bodies descending from the trees, arrows flying through the air, and the unmistakable sounds of battle. Veyra's instincts kicked in immediately as she unsheathed her dagger, the cold steel glinting under the fading light.Rune was at her side, as always, but this time the attack was more coordinated, more ruthless. The Order had come for them—again.Veyra's heart raced as she fought back, her senses heightened. She could feel the energy of the forest around her, the pulse of every living thing. It was in moments like these, with adrenaline surging through her veins, that her powers felt most alive. She moved swiftly, her body in perfect synchronization with her blade. Every strike, every twist, was deadly.But then she heard it—the unmistakable sound of Rune's pained grunt. Her heart stopped.She turned to find him stumbling, one hand pressed against his si

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   A BROTHER’s PROMISE

    The stars hung low that night—fat with silver, bleeding light through the clouds like soft whispers of things yet to come. The wind carried the scent of ash and pine, the memory of what they'd seen in the Temple of Bone still clinging to Veyra's skin like cold fog. She hadn't spoken since they returned, not beyond the necessary words, not beyond the commands required to hold her spine upright.She walked barefoot through the high grass of Nightveil's edge, the fortress walls a soft hum behind her. Her cloak, woven of moon-touched wool and battle-worn resolve, dragged slightly at her heels as she climbed the narrow path toward the overlook above the northern ridge. A place she hadn't come to in years. Not since she was a girl with simpler fears.Jon was already there.He sat cross-legged on a flat stone outcrop, his cloak slung around his shoulders, his arms propped on his knees, eyes lost in the sky. He turned when she approached, the corner of his mouth lifting, but he said nothing.

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE TEMPLE OF BONE

    The forest around the Temple was unnaturally quiet. No rustling leaves. No hooting owls. Even the crickets had fallen silent. The air itself felt thick, like it resisted every breath Veyra took. Shadows stretched longer here, clinging to bark and stone as if afraid of what lay beneath the surface.Veyra crouched behind a thorned bush, eyes scanning the ancient stone façade half-buried in moss and time. The entrance to the Order's temple yawned like a wound in the earth—jagged, crooked, and cold.Jon stood beside her, blade strapped to his back, face expressionless but alert. Zevi was on her other side, fingers twitching with nervous energy, his usual humor absent. Lioren crouched just behind them, hand already pressed to the dirt, drawing strength from the earth itself."This is it," Jon said quietly. "The Temple of Bone.""How fitting," Zevi muttered, brushing a web from his shoulder."No jokes," Lioren warned, voice low. "Not here."Veyra nodded. "We go in silent. We get what we cam

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   KISSES AND RAGE

    The training arena echoed with the heavy thud of fists meeting flesh, the sharp crack of bone colliding with bone. Dust swirled with each violent step, kicked up from the ground beneath Rune and Zarek's boots. The others had backed off hours ago, but the tension between the two dominant wolves had only grown."You think you can control her?" Rune snarled, circling the older Alpha. His usually composed expression was twisted with fury. "You think your title makes you more to her than the rest of us?"Zarek's chest heaved. "I don't need a title to know what we are. She's mine.""Yours?" Rune spat, baring his teeth. "You want to own her? She's not some territory you can mark and guard like a savage."Zarek lunged, fists flying. The impact rang out, echoing across the silent onlookers from the surrounding corridors. Rune staggered back but recovered swiftly, launching his own blow. The two collided like storms—Alpha and Beta, hearts aflame with jealousy, pain, love.In the distance, Veyra

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   KAEL’s REPENTANCE

    The shadows clung to the stone courtyard long after dusk had fallen. The fortress was quiet, unusually so, the kind of hush that came before a storm—not of wind or weather, but of emotion, of reckoning. Veyra stood by the balcony overlooking the outer gates, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, her thoughts heavier than the storm-thickened air.She had felt it before he even crossed the threshold.A ripple in her chest. Not the hum of a mate bond, not the fire of danger—something colder. Regret. Memory. A familiar pain that hadn't dulled with time, only sharpened into a jagged scar.Kael.When the guards escorted him into the great hall, she didn't move from her place. She simply watched. He had the same golden hair, though it was now tangled and dirt-dulled. The same proud jaw, set tight with something like guilt. And those eyes—wolf amber—searched for her the moment he stepped inside.Jon flanked her within seconds, protective and unmoved."He shouldn't be here," he growled

  • THE CURSE OF THE FIFTH MATE   THE SIXTH LOOMS

    Veyra's sleep was restless that night, tangled in the web of dreams. As always, they were dark and cryptic, a reflection of the chaos that stirred inside her. Her body was still, but her mind raced, locked in an endless dance of shadows and light. The familiar sensation of a presence far more powerful than anything she had encountered before lingered in the dream, like a weight on her chest.The image was clear—a pair of eyes, silver flames flickering at the edges, burning through her thoughts. A voice, like cracked stone, whispered to her, "The chains are breaking."Her breath caught in her throat. She tried to reach out, to make sense of the words, but the voice faded before she could speak. And with it, the eyes vanished, leaving her in the oppressive silence of the night.Veyra woke with a start, her pulse racing. Sweat clung to her skin, and she gasped for air, the remnants of the dream lingering like a bitter taste on her tongue.The moonlight filtered through the open window, c

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