LOGINAriana Mooncrest has lived her whole life as the Alpha King’s daughter, protected and adored, yet desperate for something real. When she hides her identity and enters Silvercrest Pack under a false name, she expects a simple life, maybe even a chance to discover who she truly is. But life outside the palace is nothing like she imagined. Mocked for her quiet nature and treated as if she’s weak, she blends into the shadows—until the day she discovers her mate, and he rejects her without hesitation. But when he finds out who she really was, he wants her back… will Ariana give him a second chance or has she found someone better?
View MoreAriana’s POVThe results were posted just before midday, and the hallway outside the main hall filled almost instantly. Students who pretended not to care pushed forward first. Others hovered at the edges, waiting to see reactions before checking their own names. I would have waited, but Leah refused to let me escape.She scanned the board quickly and exhaled sharply when she found her ranking. Ethan leaned over her shoulder, offering unnecessary commentary. I stepped forward more slowly, not expecting anything unusual.When I found my name, I had to read it twice.First in Combat Theory.First in Strategy.Third overall.It didn’t feel triumphant. It felt exposed.The shift in the air around me was subtle but real. The whispers weren’t mocking this time. They were uncertain.“She ranked above him?”“That doesn’t add up.”“Since when does she—”I stepped back before anyone could look at me directly. Leah turned toward me with narrowed eyes, as if she were solving a puzzle she hadn’t
Ariana’s POVTwo months passed faster than I expected. The season shifted quietly, and with it the mood of the school. What had once been loud and restless now felt focused and tense. Exams were approaching, and everyone seemed to carry that knowledge in their shoulders and in the way they walked through the corridors. Conversations were shorter. Laughter was less frequent. Even the usual troublemakers had started showing up to classes early.Leah took the upcoming exams more seriously than anyone I knew. She created a strict study routine and insisted that Ethan and I follow it without argument. Every afternoon we claimed the same corner of the library, spreading our books across the table until it looked like we were preparing for something far greater than school tests. Ethan complained constantly but still showed up. He would grumble about how unfair the system was while quietly copying notes and asking questions when he thought we weren’t paying attention.Those afternoons became
Ariana’s POVMornings at school always began the same way.The front gates creaked when pushed open, the courtyard filled with overlapping voices, and someone inevitably ran past as if the bell were seconds from ringing—even when it wasn’t. I used to walk through those gates with my shoulders tight and my eyes lowered, bracing for whatever version of the day waited for me.Now, I just walked.Not confidently. Not boldly.Just… normally.Leah spotted me before I reached the steps and waved with exaggerated enthusiasm, nearly smacking a passing student with her notebook in the process.“You’re late,” she called.I checked the sky. “The bell hasn’t rung.”“That’s not the point.”Ethan appeared beside her, hair slightly messy, grin already in place. “She’s been waiting here dramatically for at least thirty seconds.”Leah shoved him lightly. “I was not.”“You were rehearsing what you’d say when she arrived.”I shook my head, smiling as I joined them. “What was the speech?”Leah sniffed. “I
Ariana’s POVI felt my father’s presence before I read his words.There was something about the letter that carried weight even before I broke the seal, as if the parchment itself remembered his hands, his discipline, the quiet authority that had shaped my entire childhood. I sat on the edge of my bed with the window open, the evening air drifting in gently, and held the letter for a long moment before opening it.I wasn’t afraid of what it would say.I was afraid of how deep it would reach.My father never wrote unnecessarily. Every word he chose was deliberate, measured, and anchored in purpose. As I read, his voice formed naturally in my mind—not loud, not commanding, but steady and calm. He spoke of the royal pack, of how it continued to function with its usual precision, of council meetings and training grounds and borders that remained secure.And then, without ceremony, he spoke of my mother.I swallowed hard.He wrote of how she lingered in the eastern garden longer than befor






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