Masuk
The Alpha’s Betrayal
The Bloodmoon Pack’s ceremonial gathering was supposed to be the happiest night of Lyra Everwood’s life.
The grand hall, built from dark oak and ancient stone, was alive with energy. Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their flickering flames casting warm light over the crowd. The scent of roasted meat and sweet honeywine filled the air as pack members whispered and laughed, their excitement crackling like an electric current.
Tonight was the Mating Ceremony—a sacred event where the Moon Goddess revealed fated mates. It was the night dreams came true, where wolves found their other halves, their soul bonds.
For years, Lyra had imagined this moment. She wasn’t an Alpha’s daughter, nor a warrior, but she had hoped. She had prayed that she would find the one who would love her unconditionally.
And then—she felt it.
A shiver raced down her spine. A heat curled in her stomach, spreading like wildfire through her veins.
Her wolf stirred.
Her head snapped up, and her breath caught in her throat.
The scent hit her like a tidal wave.
It was intoxicating—rich, earthy, laced with dominance and power. A scent that sent a pulse of recognition through her very soul.
Her mate.
Her gaze locked onto the towering figure near the entrance of the hall.
Alpha Damien Blackwood.
The most powerful Alpha in the region.
His dark eyes widened slightly as their bond flared to life between them. She saw the golden flecks in his irises shimmer for a brief moment before his expression hardened.
He could feel it, too.
The room fell into silence as the energy shifted. Every wolf in the hall sensed the mate bond snapping into place.
The murmurs began.
"The Alpha found his mate…"
"Wait—look at her wrist!" "No… it can’t be!"Confused, Lyra followed their stares and glanced down at her own wrist.
The silver insignia.
A strange marking she had been born with. A birthmark unlike any other—a swirling silver design, almost glowing under the candlelight.
Her mother had always told her it was nothing. But now…
Now, the room was filled with fear.
"She bears the mark!" someone whispered, their voice trembling.
"The cursed one!" another spat. "Her blood will bring ruin to us all!"Lyra’s heart pounded. What were they saying?
She turned back to Damien, searching for reassurance, for anything that could explain this.
But his face was unreadable.
Then Serena, his Beta and closest advisor, leaned in and whispered something in his ear.
Damien’s jaw clenched. His hands balled into fists at his sides.
And then, his voice rang clear and cold through the hall.
"I, Alpha Damien Blackwood, reject you as my mate."
Lyra’s world shattered.
A physical pain tore through her chest, white-hot and unbearable. The mate bond cracked like fragile glass, splitting apart, leaving her breathless.
She gasped, stumbling backward, her vision blurring.
No. No, this wasn’t happening.
Damien took a slow step forward, towering over her, his presence suffocating.
"You are hereby exiled from the Bloodmoon Pack."
A stunned silence followed.
Then came chaos.
Before she could react, strong hands grabbed her arms. The pack’s guards. Their grips like iron, their faces void of sympathy.
"No—please!" she cried, struggling against them. "Damien, please!"
Her voice broke on his name.
But he didn’t even look at her.
Not once.
Tears blurred her vision as the guards dragged her toward the packhouse doors. She twisted, fought, but it was pointless.
The last thing she saw before the doors slammed shut behind her—
Was the pack celebrating.
As if her existence had never mattered at all.
The Moon’s Ultimatum The dream came suddenly. Aria found herself in a place without edges. There was no sky, no ground; only silver mist stretched endlessly in every direction. It pulsed softly, like breath. Like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. She knew immediately where she was. “The Veil,” she whispered. The mist shifted. Moonlight gathered, bending into form until Selene appeared before her—unchanged, eternal, eyes reflecting centuries of sorrow and power. “You should not be here alone,” Selene said gently. Aria’s fists tightened. “Then why did you bring me?” Selene paused and lifted her gaze, causing the mist to part. Aria gasped. She saw herself. Not as she was now—but as she could be. Silver light flowed from her veins. Her power was vast enough to bend mountains, calm oceans, and shatter armies. She stood radiant and terrible, crowned in moonfire, while the world bowed beneath her will. Then the image shattered. Blood. Fire. Rowan. She screamed
What the Moon Took Aria sensed something was wrong before the pain started. It began as a whisper in her chest, a tightening that had nothing to do with being tired or old injuries. Her heartbeat felt… off. Not weak. Not fast. Just wrong. She stood alone on the balcony overlooking Silvercrest, as dawn spilled pale gold into the sky. The pack below stirred, unaware that Luna's world was quietly falling apart. She pressed a hand to her abdomen again. The pulse was still there. Faint. Rhythmic. Not pain. Not power. Something else. Her breath caught. “No,” she whispered. Behind her, Rowan stepped onto the balcony, drawn by the sudden sharp spike in her scent—fear mixed with something metallic. “Aria?” His voice softened instantly. “You left without waking me.” She didn’t turn. “The Prophet said the Moon would take something.” Rowan went still. “He was trying to unsettle you.” “Was he?” She finally faced him. Rowan froze. Her skin was pale, a faint
The Weight of Survival Aria woke to silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy, watchful quiet that followed violence. It pressed against her chest and reminded her that breathing itself was a privilege. Her body ached. No, “ached” wasn’t enough. It felt like her bones had been cracked open and put back together wrong. Power still hummed beneath her skin, unstable and sharp, like broken glass just under the surface. She tried to sit up. Pain flared instantly. “Don’t.” Rowan's voice came from beside her, low and firm. A warm hand pressed gently on her shoulder, keeping her still. “You anchored Moon-Bound seals with a half-awakened core,” he said. “You’re lucky your heart didn’t give out.” Aria swallowed, her throat dry. “Did we hold?” Rowan's grip tightened slightly. “Yes.” Relief loosened something inside her chest. She turned her head slowly. The room came into focus—her chamber, lit by early morning light filtering through moon-carved windows. Healing
When the Moon BleedsThe first scream cut through the night just before dawn. Aria was already awake. She felt it before she heard it: a sudden rupture in the eastern ward, like a thread snapping inside her chest. The Moon-Bound seals shuddered, their energy rippling outward in a violent pulse. Rowan was on his feet instantly. “They’re here.” Not the Prophet. Worse. The Council’s hounds.Aria swung out of bed, pulling on her cloak as power hummed beneath her skin. “Which pack?” Rowan closed his eyes briefly, listening with instincts sharpened by years of war. “Ironvein.” Aria’s blood ran cold. Ironvein didn’t negotiate. They enforced it.By the time they reached the outer ridge, Silvercrest was already moving. Warriors formed ranks, healers dragged the wounded back, and children were ushered into the underground corridors carved generations ago for moments like this. Firelight revealed the damage. The eastern watchtower lay in ruins, stones scattered like broken teeth. Three
The Price of Defiance The council chamber felt small. Aria stood at the center, moonlight spilling through the high arching windows and casting her in silver and shadow. The elders sat in a half-circle before her—some rigid with fear, some tight with anger, some unable to meet her gaze. Blood still stained the hem of her cloak. Not hers. Not entirely. “What happened in the sanctuary was an act of war,” Elder Rhys said, breaking the silence. His voice echoed, sharp and brittle. “And it happened under your watch.” A murmur rippled through the chamber. Aria lifted her chin. “It happened because someone inside this pack betrayed us.” Rhys sneered. “Because you provoked the Prophet.” Rowan moved instantly. “Choose your next words carefully.” Rhys glanced at him but didn’t back down. “Since her awakening, attacks have escalated. Borders breached. Elders corrupted. Sacred ground defiled. The pattern is clear.” Aria’s eyes hardened. “Say it.” Rhys exhaled sharply. “
Blood in the SanctuaryThe warning howl had barely faded when the earth itself seemed to pull back. Aria felt it first. Not through sound. Not through sight. But through the Moon’s pulse inside her chest, tightening, twisting, screaming danger. “Something’s wrong,” she said sharply. Rowan was already moving. “Lock the inner gates. Call every guard.” The pack didn’t need to be told twice. Silvercrest shifted from tension to readiness in seconds. Warriors spread out. Scouts disappeared into the trees. The air thickened with adrenaline and the metallic tang of fear. Then— A scream cut through the compound. Not a battle cry. Not a warning howl. A human scream. Aria’s heart dropped. “That came from the sanctuary,” she said. They ran. The sanctuary lay at the heart of Silvercrest—a sacred place where no blood had ever been spilt. A place protected by ancient wards, carved stones, and Moon-blessed silence. Or so they had believed. The doors stood open.







