4

Aric’s POV

The northern winds still clung to my cloak as I paced the length of the council chamber, boots striking the obsidian floors like war drums. Garrick leaned against the carved wolf pillar, arms crossed, his usual mask of indifference covering the storm brewing in his eyes. Across from me, High Seer Malrik sat motionless, those cursed silver eyes glittering like moonlit daggers.

“I’ve already given my answer,” I growled, voice low but laced with enough venom to send lesser wolves trembling. “I will not be shackled. Not to a mate. And certainly not to a whimpering omega who will break before the first winter.”

Malrik’s mouth curled into something between a smile and a sneer. “This is not about shackles, Alpha Aric. This is about legacy.”

I stilled, my hand tightening around the edge of the stone table until cracks spread beneath my grip. Legacy. That word had haunted me since the day I first claimed the northern throne bathed in blood and fire. The north demanded strength, not sentiment. My people respected me because I gave them survival, not because I entertained the foolish notions of bonds and Luna crowns.

“You speak of legacy as if it can be carved by a weak hand,” I snapped. “I will not risk my bloodline for a whore’s womb.”

At that, Garrick pushed off the pillar, his dark gaze locking with mine. He was the only one who dared push me, the only one whose loyalty gave him the courage. “She isn’t just some omega, Aric. Malrik’s right. She carries Ashryn blood. The same bloodline the seers once called the Moon’s Flame. You can spit on it, ignore it, curse it all you want—but you know what it means. That bloodline can birth power.”

My chest tightened at the mention of that name. Ashryn. The tales were whispered like fireside curses: wolves touched by the moonlight itself, their line destined for greatness—or destruction. Most believed the bloodline had long since withered. But now Malrik was claiming it still flowed—in this so-called omega.

I narrowed my gaze at the seer. “And what makes you so certain? What if Darian is playing us for fools, spinning tales of ancestry to rid himself of his unwanted mate?”

“Because Darian is a fool,” Malrik countered smoothly, leaning forward with the heavy tone of prophecy in his tone. “He had the moon’s gift in his hand and chose to spit it out. You think it was chance he rejected her? No. The goddess does not make mistakes. She gave him a mate, and he was too blind, too proud to claim her. That rejection is his weakness—and your opportunity.”

The room thickened with silence. Garrick was watching me closely, gauging the cracks in my resolve. Malrik’s words hit like hammer blows against the walls I had built around myself. I despised the idea of bonds, of destiny. But I despised even more the thought of letting power slip from my grasp.

After a long moment, I exhaled through my teeth and sank into my chair, the weight of my choice pressing down like chains. “Fine,” I bit out. “If this ‘Ashryn omega’ exists, then I’ll see for myself. But make no mistake, Malrik—if this is a ploy, if she’s nothing but a frail mutt wrapped in old stories, then I will bury Darian and his entire cursed pack under northern snow.”

Malrik’s lips curved, triumphant. “The goddess will not disappoint you.”

~

The journey to the East was long, the forests growing thinner as the air warmed with the winds. I rode ahead, Garrick at my side, our soldiers trailing in disciplined silence. My thoughts circled like wolves around prey, restless, hungry, uncertain.

“Garrick,” I called.

“Yes, Alpha.”

“When the breeder bride arrives to the north, see to it that she is taken care of and stays clear from my way. I would hate to cross paths with her before the wedding night,” I said with disdain in my voice.

Garrick chuckled lightly. “Let Roxie take up the responsibility, this is a women’s affair. She can keep the breeder bride in check, just like you want.”

I nodded.

When the walls of the Eastern pack rose before us, I felt no awe, no respect. Their banners fluttered in the weak sun, but their stone carried no weight, no threat.

“Pathetic,” I muttered.

Darian was waiting at the gates, a smile plastered on his lips like a merchant desperate to sell rotten wares. His eyes gleamed with greed, but behind them I saw the shadow of humiliation. He bowed low, too low for an Alpha.

“Welcome, Alpha Aric of the North,” he said, voice oily. “It is an honor to receive you.”

I dismounted, ignoring his extended hand, letting my silence do the cutting. His smile faltered as I strode past him, my soldiers falling into place. Garrick stayed close, his mouth twitching at Darian’s awkward attempt to save face.

“Spare me your pleasantries,” I said flatly, my voice echoing across the courtyard. “I did not ride south for wine and words. I came for what was promised. Where is she?”

The color drained from Darian’s face, though he masked it quickly with a bow of his head. “Of course. The omega is being prepared.”

“Prepared?” I turned sharply, my voice cracking like a whip. “She is not a banquet to be dressed and displayed. Bring her. Now.”

Darian swallowed, the humiliation bleeding through his posture as he snapped his fingers at a guard. The man bolted, rushing inside.

I could feel the tension ripple through the gathered wolves. They were watching me, their own Alpha already diminished in his own halls. That alone was victory enough for the moment.

But then—I felt it.

The shift in the air. The sharp tug in my chest.

My gaze snapped to the entrance of the hall just as she appeared.

She was slight, almost fragile in her frame, her red hair a wild curtain that caught the faint sunlight. Her skin was pale, far too pale, and her figure showed the unmistakable scars of neglect—hunger, exhaustion, deprivation. She was dressed in silks that did not belong to her, like a lamb paraded before wolves.

For a heartbeat, I was ready to dismiss her. Weak. Breakable. Not worth the price of my presence.

And then her eyes lifted.

Emerald. Sharp. Burning.

The world stilled. My breath caught, unbidden, as those eyes locked with mine. For a moment, I wasn’t Alpha, wasn’t conqueror or beast of the north. For a moment, I was simply—caught.

The bond roared to life between us, savage and undeniable, a chain I had never asked for yet couldn’t break. My wolf surged, snarling, straining against the walls of my mind.

“Mine.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing the reaction down, masking it beneath the ice I wore so well. She looked weak, but those eyes—gods, those eyes held defiance. Fire wrapped in fragility.

And that fire burned straight into me.

Garrick glanced at me sidelong, a flicker of knowing passing through his expression. Malrik’s words echoed, unwelcome and undeniable.

The goddess had not disappointed.