CHAPTER 2

Elsin Waveridge POV

"You never linked your wolf-comm frequency with mine," Alaric Westbourne said, his voice deep and commandingly low as Elsin Waveridge turned on her heel to leave the cobbled steps of the Elders Hall. "How am I supposed to reach my female when the pack borders close?"

Elsin froze, her skin prickling as her dormant wolf stirred under the sudden, possessive weight of his tone. She reached into her leather satchel and pulled out her silver mind-link transceiver. "I forgot."

Alaric stepped closer, his broad shadow completely swallowing her. He tapped his iron token against her device, flashing his private wolf frequency onto her glass screen.

"Reach out if your wolf senses danger," Alaric said smoothly.

Elsin glanced down at his screen out of the corner of her eye. Her breath hitched. Right above her newly registered frequency, Alaric had already typed a single, permanent label: Luna.

"I will," Elsin muttered, her chest tightening with a strange, sudden pulse of heat. She hesitated for a second before typing his contact info into her own device. Instead of saving his plain worker title, she typed in My Male, Alaric.

Alaric’s gray eyes flickered with a dark, satisfied gleam. He opened his mouth to speak, but the heavy silver comm-device in his coat pocket suddenly burst into a harsh, high-frequency alarm chime reserved exclusively for urgent pack emergency broadcasts.

"Safe travels back to your charm stall," Alaric said, the warmth vanishing from his face as his voice turned ice-cold.

Elsin nodded quickly and signaled an iron transport cart by the edge of the stone road. She climbed inside without looking back, leaving Alaric standing alone in the square.

Not even two minutes after her cart rattled away, a heavy, armored black carriage pulled by four massive shadow-wolves pulled up directly beside Alaric. The driver’s window slid down, revealing Octavian Westbourne, the second-born heir of Westbourne Alpha Holdings.

"I thought you were inspecting the eastern territory borders," Octavian said, leaning out with a confused frown. "What are you doing outside the Frostwick Pack Elders Hall?"

"Executing a mate bond," Alaric said cleanly. He yanked open the heavy door and climbed into the plush leather interior. "Drive to the flight-drake staging grounds."

Octavian yanked so hard on the wolf-reins that the carriage jerked to a violent halt, the shadow-wolves snarling in surprise. "Are you out of your mind? You don't even have a chosen mate! The Matriarch brought fifty high-ranking females to the pack house last week and you rejected every single one. She was starting to think your wolf was broken!"

"Say another word and I'm slashing your monthly territory allowance in half," Alaric said without turning his head.

"You can't be serious!" Octavian gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "You actually bound your soul to someone?"

"When you drop me at the staging grounds, go secure a modest stone dwelling in the lower territory," Alaric ordered calmly. "Three chambers, two bathing rooms. Nothing larger."

Octavian stared at his brother like he had grown a second head. "A lower-territory shelter? You own six bloodline fortresses and three private mountain strongholds! Why are you buying a worker's hovel?"

Alaric remained silent, his dark gaze fixed out the tinted window. Octavian snapped his mouth shut, muttering under his breath, completely convinced his brother was playing some elaborate, twisted game. There was no way the future Alpha of Westbourne Alpha Holdings had just bound himself to a random female off the territory streets.

The heavy oak door of the cottage barely swung open before a ceremonial bone whip whistled through the air, striking the wooden frame right next to Elsin’s head with a deafening crack.

"Where have you been, Elsin?" Georgiana Waveridge screamed, her grey wolf-eyes wild with fury as she hovered over the threshold. "I sent you to the lodge to meet that pack worker! Did you run away again? Do you want our family thrown out to the outlands?"

Elsin didn't flinch. She reached into her tunic, pulled out the parchment bearing the gleaming red wax mark of the mate bond, and held it directly in front of her mother's face.

"I signed the bond, Mother," Elsin said, her voice steady and flat. "You can stop threatening to starve your wolf now."

Georgiana froze instantly. The bone whip slipped from her hand, thudding against the floorboards. Her hands trembled violently as she snatched the binding parchment, her eyes scanning the official pack seals in utter disbelief.

"You actually did it?" Georgiana whispered, her mouth gaping open. She stared at the moving portrait stamped into the wax—a strikingly handsome male with sharp features and piercing gray eyes. "Alaric... Westbourne? Wait."

Georgiana pulled out her crumpled notice-board paper, her brows pulling together in deep confusion.

"The matchmaker on the territory notice board listed his bloodline name as Westbourne with an ordinary low-caste spelling," Georgiana muttered, tracing the raised gold lettering on the ancient parchment. "Why is his signature stamped here with the ancient Alpha lineage crest?"