chapter 4

POV: Elara

The fire in the Healer’s Hall hearth had settled into a low, pulsing orange, casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hand resting protectively over my still-flat stomach. The weight of the Healer’s words felt like a physical pressure in the room.

Pregnant. "Elara," Nora whispered, leaning in close so the Healer who was busy grinding herbs in the back couldn't hear. "If you stay... if you tell him... he will never let you go. But he won't love you, either. He’ll keep you in a golden cage just to ensure that heir belongs to the Silverfang Pack."

I looked at her, my silver eyes reflecting the dying embers. "You think I should run?"

"I think you have to," Nora said, her voice trembling with urgency. "This marriage... it isn't a marriage. It’s a prison sentence. Silas will never treat a child from a 'rogue' mother with the respect a Prince deserves. He’ll raise the boy to be a cold soldier, just like him. Or worse, he’ll let Genevieve treat the child like an eyesore."

I felt a cold shiver trace my spine. To wake up from a coma, lose three years of my life, and then immediately be told I had to flee into the wilderness with a secret pregnancy? It was too much. My head throbbed, the amnesia feeling like a thick fog I couldn't claw through.

"Run away?" I asked, my voice barely a breath. "To where, Nora? I don't even know who I am outside of these stone walls. I’m a rogue with no pack. If I take his child into the wild, we’ll be hunted. By him. By others."

Nora hesitated, her bravado flickering. She looked down at her hands. "You’re right. A rogue mother and a pup on the run... the survival rate is low. Maybe... maybe if he sees the child, his heart will finally thaw? Maybe the fated bond will finally mean something to him?"

I stood up, the fur cloak sliding off my shoulders. I felt a surge of the "New Elara" the one who didn't trust "maybes" and "fated bonds."

"I won't make a decision based on fear," I said firmly. "I’m going back to the longhouse. I need to see Silas Silverfang’s face one more time. I need to see if there is a single spark of a human soul left in that man before I decide whether to rob my child of a father or save him from a monster."

……

The walk back to the Silverfang Longhouse was a blur of towering pines and mist. By the time I reached the massive timber doors, my damp clothes were clinging to my skin.

I pushed the doors open, and the warmth of the Great Hall hit me, along with the bitter scent of expensive perfume and Silas’s oppressive Alpha aura.

Silas was standing by the massive stone fireplace, a glass of dark amber liquid in his hand. Beside him, draped over an armchair like she owned the place, was Genevieve. She was draped in silks and jewels, her eyes lighting up with a cruel, feline glee the moment she saw me.

Silas turned, his eyes scanning me from my messy hair down to my mud-stained boots. There was no relief in his gaze. No concern. Only a deepening, jagged disgust.

"Look at that," Silas said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that echoed in the rafters. "Unharmed. Not a scratch on her. Tell me, Elara, did you pay the Healer to lie to me, or did he simply get tired of your whining and decide to play along?"

I froze, my jaw tightening. "Excuse me?"

"The Healer said you had a car accident," Silas mocked, taking a slow step toward me. "He said you were 'broken.' But here you are, standing on your own two feet, looking perfectly capable of hosting a summit. How many times are we going to do this? Last month it was a 'fainting spell' during the hunt. The month before, it was a 'deadly fever.' You crave my attention so much that you’d fake your own death just to make me walk through a door."

"I didn't fake anything," I said, my voice as cold as the rain outside. "I woke up in the Healer’s Hall because I was hit by a truck while you were busy flirting with your ex."

Genevieve let out a sharp, tinkling laugh that set my teeth on edge. She stood up, smoothing her skirts, and walked over to stand beside Silas, tucking her arm into his.

"Oh, Silas, darling," Genevieve purred, looking at me with pure contempt. "You actually came home early because you were worried. You left the council meeting for this. And look at her just standing there, making up stories again. Is this simply the vile nature of low-status rogues? Do they all lie this naturally, or is Elara a special case?"

She looked up at Silas, her eyes shimmering with fake sympathy. "You really should dump her, Silas. A Luna is supposed to be a pillar of strength, not a pathetic little girl who cries 'wolf' every time she feels lonely. She’s useless to you. She’s a weight around your neck."

Silas didn't pull away from her. He looked at me, his lip curling in a sneer. "She’s right. You are a low-status rogue who has forgotten her place. You like to cause trouble because you have nothing else to offer this pack. If you weren't my fated mate, Elara, I would have thrown you to the scavengers years ago."

I stood there, listening to the man I was supposed to "love" belittle me in front of the woman he was cheating with. Every word was a nail in the coffin of our marriage. I felt the tiny life inside me pulse, and in that moment, I knew. Nora was right. I couldn't stay here.

I looked Silas dead in the eye, no longer the "obedient" wife, but a stranger who had finally seen through the mask.

"You're right about one thing, Alpha," I said, my voice echoing through the silent hall. "I finally recognize my identity. And I realize now that being your wife is the most 'low-status' thing I’ve ever done."

Silas’s eyes flashed gold, his wolf snarling at the disrespect, but I didn't wait for him to respond. I turned on my heel and walked toward the stairs, my head held high. I had seen enough.

……….

Hundreds of miles away, in the heart of the most powerful kingdom in the northern territories, the atmosphere was thick with a different kind of tension.

In the Royal Sanctuary of the Moonstone Palace, two men stood before a massive, ancient pedestal.

King Alaric Moonstone, a man with silver-streaked hair and eyes like molten starlight, gripped the edge of the stone table so hard the rock began to hairline fracture. Beside him stood his son, Prince Caspian, a warrior whose mere presence was enough to silence a battlefield.

Between them sat a massive crystal ball, a relic passed down through the Moonstone bloodline for generations. For twenty years, the crystal had remained dark—a cold, hollow reminder of the night the Princess had been snatched from her cradle.

Suddenly, the air in the room began to hum.

A tiny, flickering spark of violet light appeared deep within the heart of the crystal. It grew, swirling and dancing, until the entire room was bathed in a brilliant, royal purple glow.

Prince Caspian gasped, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. "Father... the Moonstone. It’s... it’s lit."

King Alaric’s breath hitched, a single tear tracking down his weathered cheek. He reached out a trembling hand, hovering it over the glowing orb. The crystal pulsed with a rhythmic, steady beat—the heartbeat of a royal wolf that had finally awakened.

"She’s alive," Alaric whispered, his voice thick with twenty years of grief and newfound hope. "My daughter... Elara. She’s found her wolf."

Caspian leaned in, his eyes narrowing as he watched the light swirl toward a specific point on the map etched into the pedestal. The violet spark settled over a small, jagged territory in the north.

"The Silverfang Pack," Caspian said, his voice vibrating with a sudden, lethal protective instinct. "That’s where the light is coming from. She’s in Silas Silverfang's territory."

King Alaric looked at his son, his face hardening into a mask of regal fury and absolute determination. The grief was gone, replaced by the fire of a King who was about to reclaim what was his.

"We were supposed to visit the Silverfang Pack for the summit to discuss trade," Alaric said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low growl. "But now... we go for her."

He looked at the glowing crystal one last time.

"Prepare the warriors, Caspian," the King commanded. "We are going to the Silverfang Pack. And if Silas Silverfang has so much as touched a hair on my daughter’s head... I will burn his territory to ash."