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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 First Bloodline The summons came at dawn. Not through a messenger. Not via a letter. But from the Moon itself. Aria sensed it even before her eyes fluttered open—a sharp tug deep within her, a hum in her veins that carried both urgency and a sense of foreboding. The silver glow beneath her skin flared for a moment, hot enough to take her breath away. She shot upright. Rowan was already awake. “You felt it,” he said in a low voice. She nodded. “It wasn’t just a call.” He swung his legs off the bed, now fully alert. “Then what was it?” Aria pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the echo still resonating through her bones. “A gathering,” she replied. “Of blood.” Rowan froze. “Bloodlines?” “Yes.” The word felt heavy on her tongue. Selene had mentioned it only once—ancient families connected not by land, but by power bestowed directly from the Moon. Most had been wiped out. Some had been silenced. Others had been twisted into weapons by the High Council.
When the Moon Chooses War The pack didn’t sleep that night. Aria felt it the moment she stepped back into the territory—the restless pacing, the hushed conversations that fell silent as she walked by, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and fear. Wolves could sense war just like prey could feel a storm brewing. It buzzed beneath their skin. As she walked alongside Rowan through the courtyard, she held her posture steady and kept her expression calm. But inside, everything was a whirlwind. The High Council had drawn a line in the sand. And for the first time in generations, Luna had crossed it without bowing her head. “Council scouts have fully withdrawn,” Rowan said quietly as they ascended the steps to the war hall. “But not too far. They’re keeping an eye on us.” “Let them,” Aria replied. “They’re just waiting to see how I’ll react.” Rowan shot her a glance. “And how will you react?” She paused before answering. Inside the war hall, the elders and comm
The Line That Cannot Be Crossed The night air felt like ash on her tongue. Aria stood at the edge of the watchtower balcony, the wind playfully tugging at her hair as the pack below moved in tense, restless patterns. Torches flickered along the stone paths, their flames dancing like anxious hearts. There was no laughter. No one dared to speak above a whisper. The pack sensed it. War was no longer a distant shadow. It was here. Behind her, Rowan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression as hard as stone. He had been silent for too long—an Alpha’s silence, the kind that hinted at decisions being forged in blood. “They’ve crossed the eastern boundary,” he finally said. “Three scouting units. All bearing High Council banners.” Aria’s jaw clenched. “So Morian wasn’t just bluffing,” she murmured. “No,” Rowan replied, his tone grim. “He never does.” Aria turned to face him, the moonlight catching the faint silver glow beneath her skin—a glow that ha
When the Moon Draws Blood The first scream sliced through the night like a sharp blade. Aria was already awake. She felt it before she even heard the sound—the sudden rupture in the wards, the violent snap of ancient magic coming undone under pressure. Her eyes flew open, silver flashing as she sprang to her feet. “Rowan,” she breathed. He was already in motion. The Alpha burst through the door, fully dressed, energy radiating off him in dangerous waves. “They’re here.” The ground trembled. Not from thunder. But from impact. A second scream followed, then the unmistakable clash of steel, the roar of wolves shifting in the moonlight, and the horrific scent of blood carried on the wind. Aria didn’t hesitate. She snatched her cloak, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders, one hand protectively over her abdomen. The life inside her stirred—restless, aware. The Moon was watching. She could feel it. Outside, chaos erupted. High Council forces surged through
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







