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Chapter 8
publish date:
2026-08-24 15:17:15Jaxon’s POV
My jaw ached from the sheer force of clenching my teeth. Every breath I drew in the suffocating warmth of the grand gallery tasted like liquid gold, ozone, and her.
‘Mine,’ the beast beneath my ribs roared, clawing at my lungs, demanding I tear the high-collared black tuxedo from my frame, shift into my midnight-furred form, and carry the fragile creature beside me away to the deepest cavern in the frost-peaks. ‘Claim. Protect. Hide.’
‘Shut up,’ I snarled back into the dark recesses of my own mind, slamming an iron wall down on the telepathic bond that had just fused our souls.
A biological impossibility. A cosmic joke. The universe had looked at Jaxon Ravencroft, the Warlord of the North, the Tyrant Alpha who had spent a decade painting the snowfields in the blood of rebels to secure a throne, and handed him a gutter-born rogue Omega as his fated match. If the High Council elders in the banquet hall saw the mark I had just branded onto her skin, if they smelled past the desperate cocktail of my dominant aura and Kaelen’s amber chemicals, they wouldn't see a legendary alliance. They would see a weakness. A desecration of the sacred purebred bloodlines that held the Northern Empire together.
I looked down at her as we navigated the grand corridor toward the heavy bronze doors of the feast hall. Rhea walked with her chin tilted high, her fingers digging so hard into the crook of my forearm that I could feel the sharp press of her nails through the heavy wool of my sleeve. She was terrified. The silver mark on her neck, my mark, was still fresh, humming with a low, vibrant heat that I knew was vibrating through her entire nervous system.
"If you drop your head once," I muttered, my voice dropping into a register so low it was nothing more than a vibration against the stone walls, "the valley Alphas will scent the fear on you. They are wolves, Rhea. They do not look for beauty; they look for a throat to tear out."
"Then tell your beast to stop pushing his weight into my skull," she shot back, her voice a sharp, hushed razor. She didn't look at me, keeping her icy blue eyes fixed straight ahead on the massive iron-studded doors. "It feels like someone is pouring boiling lead down my spine."
"That is the bond settling, little bird. Get used to it."
I stopped at the threshold. Two massive enforcers in full obsidian armor bowed their heads, their hands resting on the pommels of their broadswords. They didn't move to open the doors immediately. They were waiting for my nod.
I took one final, sweeping look at the girl standing beside me in her ruined elegance. The stylists had managed to patch the lace gown where my fangs had torn through, and a thick, high collar of silver thread now hid the fresh, glowing mark of the Ravencroft pack. To the casual eye, she was Vivienne Moretti, cold, untouchable, aristocratic. But to my wolf, she was a flashing beacon of raw survival.
"Remember the terms," I whispered, leaning down so my breath brushed the shell of her ear. "The mirror only reads allegiance. If you fight my power, if you try to assert your own independent will inside that hall, the glass will shatter your disguise. Let my shadow swallow you."
"Just don't forget your promise about my freedom, Warlord," she whispered back, a faint, dangerous golden ring flashing around her pupils.
I turned back to the doors and gave the enforcers a single, curt nod.
"Open them."
*****
The bronze doors swung inward with a groaning screech that silenced the roaring din of the banquet hall instantly.
The grand feast hall of the Ravencroft Estate was a cathedral of stone and fire. Three massive hearths blazed along the northern wall, casting long, dancing shadows across the long oak tables where hundreds of high-ranking wolves sat. The air was thick with the scent of roasted stag, heavy ale, and the suffocating, competitive pheromones of the empire's elite.
As we stepped onto the raised dais, hundreds of eyes locked onto us. The silence was absolute, heavy enough to weigh down the smoke rising toward the timbered ceiling.
At the center table sat the High Council elders. These were not warriors; they were ancient, calculating monsters who had survived centuries by trading secrets and executing anyone who threatened the purity of the packs. At their center stood Elder Vance, not Rhea’s former tormentor, but the High Council's chief judge, an ancient wolf whose grey fur was long gone, replaced by a withered, scarred visage and eyes as sharp as flint.
Beside him stood the artifact.
The Lunar Mirror.
It was a massive slab of solid silver, seven feet tall, framed by gnarled, blackened iron that had been forged in the first fires of the Moon Goddess's temple. The surface wasn't made of ordinary glass; it was a liquid-like pool of mercury that rippled continuously, catching the firelight and twisting it into pale, eerie patterns. It didn't reflect the physical form. It reflected the soul's energetic alignment, the rank, the blood-weight, the true nature of the beast within.
"Alpha Jaxon," Elder Vance’s voice scraped across the silence, thin and brittle as dry bone. He didn't offer a congratulatory toast. He didn't raise a goblet. "The chapel vows were... unexpected. A display of feral passion from a ruler known for his calculated iron rule."
I led Rhea down the stairs of the dais, my boots thudding rhythmically against the stone. "The Ravencroft blood responds to its match, Elder. I do not waste time with courtly delays when my borders require security."
"Quite," Vance murmured, his eyes shifting from me to the girl at my side. He leaned forward, his ancient nose flaring as he tried to pierce the dense shield of my scent. "Yet, the Moretti pack has always been known for its distinct, fragrant Alpha lineage. Tonight, the air smells... heavily of the north. Almost exclusively so."
"A wife belongs to her husband's house, Vance," I replied, my voice dropping into a warning growl that made the younger Betas at the nearby tables shift uncomfortably. "Or has the High Council forgotten the ancient laws of possession?"
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Rhea’s POV“You dare question my blood on my own dais, Vance?”Jaxon’s voice wasn't just a roar; it was a physical shockwave. The air in the grand hall instantly pressurized, crushing down on my chest until my lungs screamed for air. He pulled me closer, his massive arm locking around my waist like an iron bar, his chest heaving with a terrifying, calculated fury.Elder Vance didn't back down. The ancient wolf leaned over the table, pointing a gnarled, trembling finger at the faint, violent thread of violet light pulsing at the border of the Lunar Mirror.“The glass does not lie, Warlord!” Vance shouted, his voice echoing off the vaulted timber ceiling. “That violet hue is the mark of an unranked stray! A rogue! Look at her, she is drowning in your scent because she has none of her own!”Whispers exploded through the rows of seated nobles like dry brush catching f
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"We forget nothing," another elder, a scarred warrior named Tobias, interjected from the left. He slammed his goblet onto the table, his eyes fixed on Rhea. "Which is exactly why we require the sealing ceremony. The Northern Alliance cannot be built on words alone, Jaxon. The treaty demands the bride prove her lineage before the High Council. Let Lady Vivienne stand before the Lunar Mirror."I felt Rhea’s arm twitch against mine. A sudden spike of adrenaline shot through her blood, and my wolf instantly picked up the scent of raw terror beneath the amber elixir.‘Steady,’ I sent the command through the telepathic link, slamming the thought into her mind with the weight of an Alpha’s order. ‘Do not flinch.’She didn't answer with words, but the small, stubborn tilt of her chin told me she had heard me.I let go of her arm, stepping back just half a pace to
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Jaxon’s POVMy jaw ached from the sheer force of clenching my teeth. Every breath I drew in the suffocating warmth of the grand gallery tasted like liquid gold, ozone, and her.‘Mine,’ the beast beneath my ribs roared, clawing at my lungs, demanding I tear the high-collared black tuxedo from my frame, shift into my midnight-furred form, and carry the fragile creature beside me away to the deepest cavern in the frost-peaks. ‘Claim. Protect. Hide.’‘Shut up,’ I snarled back into the dark recesses of my own mind, slamming an iron wall down on the telepathic bond that had just fused our souls.A biological impossibility. A cosmic joke. The universe had looked at Jaxon Ravencroft, the Warlord of the North, the Tyrant Alpha who had spent a decade painting the snowfields in the blood of rebels to secure a throne, and handed him a gutter-born rogue Omega as his fated match. If t
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“Alpha Jaxon, are you saying...?” Kaelen gasped from the doorway, his eyes wide.“I have to mark her,” Jaxon stated, his eyes locking onto my neck where the blood from his bite was already starting to dry. “I have to claim her fully as my mate before we walk into that feast. If my mark is on her neck, her soul belongs to the Ravencroft Pack. The mirror will only see my Alpha power reflecting through her.”“I won't do it!” I shouted, backing away from him until my skirt pressed against the velvet sofa again. “You’re crazy! A full marking is permanent! It binds our souls forever! I am not going to be tied to a Tyrant Alpha for the rest of my life just to save your precious treaty!”“It’s not just about my treaty anymore, street girl!” Jaxon growled, closing the distance between us in a single, predatory step. He grabbed both of my shoulders, his grip tight and commanding
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Rhea's POV“Let go of me!” I hissed the second the heavy oak doors of the bridal suite slammed shut behind us.Jaxon didn't just let go; he shoved me back toward the velvet sofa. I stumbled, my heavy silk train tangling around my ankles, before I hit the cushions hard. The diamond necklace felt like an iron collar choking my throat.“You stupid, reckless girl,” Jaxon growled, pacing the room like a caged beast. His eyes were still flashing between bright gold and pitch black, his wild Alpha aura filling the room so thick it made the air feel hot and thin. “Do you have any idea what you just did out there?”“What ‘I’ did?” I shouted back, ripping the lace veil off my head and throwing it to the floor. “You’re the one who bit me! You’re the one who stared at me like you were going to rip me to pieces in front of the entire High Council! I did exactly what Kaelen told me
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The heavy iron doors of the grand chapel flew open with a loud, echoing boom.Inside, hundreds of high-society Alphas and Betas from across the Northern Empire sat in the carved stone pews, dressed in formal black velvet and heavy furs. At the far end of the long aisle, standing before the giant stone statue of the Moon Goddess, was the High Priest, an ancient, blind Alpha whose scent was so thick with age and power it made the air taste like ash.The moment our boots hit the stone aisle, hundreds of heads turned toward us.I felt the girl stiffen beside me, but she surprised me. She didn't look down. She didn't look weak. She walked with her head held high, perfectly mimicking the haughty stride of Vivienne Moretti.I matched her pace, keeping my stride slow, powerful, and utterly confident. I used my massive frame to absorb the intense, heavy glares of the suspicious elders
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