The name beneath the curse.

The great head stayed pressed to the stone at my feet. The word still echoed inside my skull, impossible and heavy.

Mate.

I shook my head hard enough that my hair stuck to my damp cheeks. “You are wrong. Whatever you are, you have made a mistake. I am not—”

The air around the creature changed. Heat built until it felt like standing too close to a forge. Bones cracked. Fur retreated. The massive shape folded in on itself with wet, grinding sounds that turned my stomach. I pressed back against the wall and watched because looking away felt worse.

When it finished, a man knelt where the beast had been. He was enormous even on his knees, shoulders broad enough to block what little light reached us from cracks in the ceiling. Scars crossed his chest and arms in pale, raised lines. Some looked old. Some looked deliberate. His hair hung long and dark, tangled with dirt. When he lifted his head, his eyes still held a faint red glow that faded as I stared.

He spoke aloud this time. His voice was the same one that had entered my mind, rough from centuries of silence. “My name is Drake Cole. I was the first Alpha of these lands. Your royal line locked me here five hundred years ago and told the world I was a mindless beast that needed blood to stay sleeping.”

I stared at him. The chains felt heavier. “That is not possible. The First Alpha died. Everyone knows the story. He went mad and the founders put him down to save the packs.”

“They put me in a cage and called it mercy.” He stayed on his knees, as if standing might frighten me further. “The men who wrote those stories were the ones who stole my throne. Ethan Blake’s bloodline. They used dark magic to bind me to this mountain and then sacrificed one of their own every year to keep the binding strong. You were not sent here to die for the pack’s safety. You were sent here to keep me weak.”

My mouth had gone dry. “Ethan knows?”

“He knows enough. They all do. The truth is passed down with the crown.” Drake’s gaze moved over the iron around my wrists. “You were chosen because you have no wolf to fight back and no family to demand answers. That has always been their method.”

I laughed once, sharp and ugly. “So I am still worthless. Just in a more useful way.”

“No.” The word landed hard. “You are the first person the magic has recognized in five centuries. The first one it called mate. That is not worthless.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that mate bonds belonged to people with wolves and futures, not girls left in the dark with chains on their hands. But the word still sat inside my head like it had always been there, waiting.

Before I could speak, a long, clear horn blast cut through the stone walls from outside. Then another. Closer.

Drake’s head snapped toward the sealed doors. His expression turned cold.

“They came early,” he said. “The scouts. They are here for your bones.”