Masuk
She understood what it was like to believe in fairytales in that same blind, desperate, all-hopeful way that other girls did. Twenty-three years of silver radiance shone through the pack runs, the full moon ceremonies, the lonely nights when she waited for Adrian Leon to return from border patrols. It was even the Moon Goddess who had marked them the night that their wolves met for the first time under a sky too beautiful to behold. The bond within her burned like a second heart – hot, urgent, unshakable. Safety. Loyalty. Forever. That is what the stars promised. That is what Leon had murmured into her neck when he marked her as his Luna for the first time.
She was wrong. The claws of the rouge went deep into her side with the tearing sound that would forever be haunting her in her dreams. The pain was burning through her like white fire and cutting off her breath in just a second. The warm blood of Corinne was pouring out through the wound and soaking through her blue dress that she had put on just hours ago for the celebration of her pack. Her hands, one covering the wound and the other desperately trying to reach the only one who could save her, were trembling from fear. “Leon..” He was only ten steps away. Ten steps. The clearing was filled with growls and bared teeth. The Silvercrest pack surrounded their Alpha in a circle, but the rogues were ready, too many and too quickly coming after his blood. The smell of copper, fear and hate lingered on the air. The bodies lay dead on the ground. Someone was crying out. Another died. Her white wolf inside her wanted out desperately, but her pain held back the transition. Trisha was further away from Leon than Corinne was. Trisha, whose golden hair was now dark with another's blood, her left arm dangling in an odd angle as she screamed his name as her one prayer. Trisha, who once stood before Leon to protect his life from a blade that would have ripped out his heart. Trisha, who wasn’t ever picked by the Moon Goddess but somehow possessed all of his essence.Trisha, whose scent would forever stick to Leon’s clothes when he came back after days of patrolling. Trisha, who looked at him with the eyes that spoke volumes of I’d rather die for you than ever listen to the Goddess. Leon’s golden eyes were fixated on Corinne for one brief moment, just enough for her to realize the decision he was making. Just enough for the bond between them to burst into flames of desperation. Golden flames that pleaded: I’m here. I’m yours. Find me. Please. And he turned. To Trisha. Corinne collapsed to the ground with such force that she felt the impact in her teeth. The sacred thread that the Moon Goddess herself had spun for them snapped inside her with the crystal-clear noise only she could hear. She felt as though someone was tearing her heart out of her chest with their bare hands. The bond shattered into pieces, tearing apart inside her body each time she took a breath. “Leon!” she screamed, her voice cracking apart in splinters. “I’m your mate! I’m your Luna!” But he refused to turn around. Above her, the rogue sneered in victory. His claws scored her flesh once more, down to muscle. Redness crept across Corinne’s vision at the corners. She watched as Adrian Leon, Alpha of the Silvercrest Pack, held Trisha against his chest as if she were the last thing in the world worth caring about. He barked out commands. He shifted halfway, making himself into a human shield for her. He brought his forehead down against hers and murmured something in her ear. Something he intended for no one else but the woman in his arms. That same shield that should have kept her safe. “Why?” she whispered, spittle mixing with blood on her lips. “Why wasn’t I enough?” The mating bond flickered once weakly as a dying star before it fell silent. Not broken just yet no but empty as if his rejection had started to destroy her wolf even before he did it. And there, in the depths of herself, her white wolf whined and rolled itself into a ball of torment. A third rogue attacked. But this time, her neck was the target of the teeth. Warmth rushed into her mouth as she tasted blood for the first time. The sky spun dizzily around her. The silver moon seemed even farther away than it had been, untouched and uncaring. She could hear pack members calling to each other and Leon roaring triumphantly as the rogues ran for the trees. Someone was sobbing Trisha’s name with gratitude while someone else laughed. Corinne was ignored. Corinne was lying on her side, her cheek resting against the ground as she watched the man she loved cradle another woman as if she were his world. Tears mingled with the blood streaming from her eyes. With one last weak flutter, the mate bond fell silent for eternity. “Why did I love you?” she managed to gasp. The words came out as a garbled mess of sound that nobody could hear. “Why did my love for you drive me into the grave?” The very last thing she ever felt was the bond falling deathly silent, its demise cruel and unceremonious. The very last thing she saw before her vision turned dark was Leon smiling down at Trisha as if her life didn’t matter anymore. Then the darkness claimed her. But the goddess of the moon remained silent for the first time in Corinne’s life.Death should have been silent.
Instead, the beating of Corinne’s heart was all she could hear. She gasped until her lungs screamed at the burn. Her hands reached instinctively to where the wounds that had ripped out her life existed, searching for their presence but finding only smooth skin, no marks, no blood, no broken tissue, no pain but a painless reminder, a memory that was alive within her nerves telling her that she was dead, she was dead, she was dead. She rose so quickly that her world spun around her. The sheets felt cool against her exposed legs. The air smelled like lavender, old wood and the slight remnant of Leon’s scent that would always be in her room. This was her room in the pack house of Silvercrest. The calendar hung on the wall, Her breath caught in her throat, The date was three months prior to the rogue’s assault. Three months prior to when Leon made another his choice. Three months before she died ten feet away from the man who was meant to love her. Her fingers quivered as she touched her own face. Warm. Alive. Real. Mate bond gods, the mate bond was restored. It thrummed within her heart, golden and perfect, like nothing had ever broken it. Like Leon had never turned his back on her dying body. Like the Moon Goddess just pressed the rewind button and gave it all back to her. She couldn’t keep herself from crying out. She placed both hands over her mouth, but the tears still fell hard, angry, endlessly. She hunched forward with her forehead resting against her knees, crying as she had not been able to while she choked on her own blood. Every moment of the betrayal was branded in her eyes. The precise expression in Leon’s eyes when he picked Trisha over her. The deadening silence in the bond between them. The indifferent glow of the moon above her. And there was something else too.She turned away.The movement was clean, final, without the smallest hesitation or backward glance.“Percie,” she said quietly.He moved with her immediately, a silent, solid presence at her side. The silver bond between them pulsed once quiet, sure, warm, and completely closed to the man left standing alone in the hallway.Leon’s gold-burning eyes stayed fixed on her back.“Corinne.” His voice was rough, almost raw. “Don’t walk away from me again.”She did not stop.“Corinne.” Louder this time. “I refused the rejection. You heard me. The entire hall heard me. I am not accepting it.”Still she kept walking. Percie’s shoulder remained a protective line beside her.Leon took one step forward, then forced himself to stop. His hands curled into fists at his sides.“You think this is over just because you said the words?” he called after her, the stu
Percie’s expression remained almost unnaturally calm, but his voice, when it came, carried a quiet, lethal steel that needed no raised volume to draw blood.“It feels like choice,” he said, each word deliberate. “Hers. And mine. You were given years of open doors and golden certainty and a mate who waited patiently, stupidly, loyally for you to turn toward her when it mattered most. You used those years to look elsewhere. You used them to shove her into the dirt on the training grounds while she was already bleeding from wounds she took for this pack. You used them to carry another woman through the main halls in full view of every set of eyes that mattered while your true mate learned how to stop waiting. What Corinne and I have was not taken from you in the dark like a thief’s prize. It was built, brick by deliberate brick, in the ruins of everything you refused to protect when protection would have cost you comfort. If that wounds you, look to t
“Corinne.” Her name in his voice still carried the full, unbearable weight of their history every full moon ceremony, every marking under silver light, every soft morning that had existed before the ten steps and the smile he had given someone else while she bled out in the dirt. It carried the memory of the golden bond at its strongest, when simply walking into a room had felt like coming home. She stopped. Her spine straightened. Isla rose close to the surface, white and watchful and utterly unwilling to soften. “I said everything I needed to say last night,” Corinne replied, voice low and even, stripped of any residual warmth that might give him an opening. “There is nothing left to reopen. Walk away, Leon. Before this becomes something uglier than it already is.” “There is.” He closed the distance between them with long, purposeful strides, stopping only when the quiet, instinctive push of the silver bond seemed to press back against his advance like an i
Something raw and exhausted moved across Corinne’s face not pity, not residual tenderness, only the recognition of a wound that belonged entirely to him. “Then you will have to teach it,” she said. “The same way I had to teach myself to stop waiting. The same way I had to stand in the fire and decide that surviving you was more important than being chosen by you. I cannot do that work for you, Leon. I will not.” The silver bond’s quiet certainty seemed to stand in the air between them even in Percie’s absence. Leon felt it like a door that had been closed, locked, and braced from the other side. He laughed once soft, humorless, and broken. “I used to believe the Goddess’s mark made us inevitable,” he said. “That no matter how badly I handled the days between, the bond would hold the center. I treated it like a net that would catch me every time I looked away. You fell through it. And instead of climbing down after you, I told myself the net was still there and you had simply chose
Night descended on Silvercrest in a breath held.The formal rejection to Blackthorn was dispatched before dusk, terse, blunt, and unequivocal. Western rotation cycles were doubled once more. Interrogation of the prisoner in the cells proceeded under the supervision of Mara. The pack traveled with the concentrated energy of a land that survived the conflagration only to have its borders measured by a new desire. Order remained on the surface. Beneath the surface, something primal bled.Leon stood alone on the top balcony of the pack house, his hands gripping the stonework railing as he looked out toward the dark outline of the western trees. The night breeze brought with it a lingering hint of the wet ash smell from the southern quarter, along with the pine smell that was a little fresher. Around him the sounds of low conversation and the quiet clatter of repair work filled the building, but not one of them touched the emptiness inside him.The golden bond was gone.He knew how it had
Elder Mara sat at the head of the long table, the formal notice from Blackthorn lying open before her like a drawn blade. Harrow and Sira flanked her. Venn stood near the window, restless energy coiled tight. Leon was already present standing rather than seated, arms crossed, the raw aftermath of what he had overheard in the corridor still visible in the rigid line of his shoulders and the carefully blank set of his face. He did not look at Corinne when she entered. He did not look at Percie. The hollow where the golden bond had lived seemed to have carved itself into his posture. Mara wasted no time. “The notice is brief,” she said, voice carrying the dry authority of someone who had survived too many careful letters from hungry neighbors. “And deliberately so. Astrid of Blackthorn extends ‘formal acknowledgment of recent internal difficulties within Silvercrest’ and offers ‘assistance in restoring border stability should the pack require it.’ She further notes that historical sur







