The Wolf Who Chose Me

The moon was fat and heavy, spilling silver light over the clearing like it was trying to make everything look holy. The air smelled of pine needles crushed under boots, smoky firewood, and the nervous sweat of too many wolves standing too close. Everyone was dressed up—blacks and golds, ceremonial nonsense—like they were part of something ancient and sacred.

Moon Choosing night.

The night alphas played king, and omegas lined up, hoping to be chosen.

Ezra lingered at the edge of it all, half-hidden in the shadows, leaning against a gnarled tree like he didn’t care.

He didn’t.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

He tugged his hoodie lower, the fabric rough against the back of his neck—bare skin, unmarked. No bond. No claim. Just him—packless, statusless, and mostly forgotten. A mouthy omega with a reputation sharp enough to keep people away and a past he didn’t talk about.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here. No one had invited him.

Omegas like Ezra didn’t get picked. They got passed over. Pitied. Sometimes used. Never wanted.

He preferred it out here, anyway. Past the torchlight. Beyond the judging eyes. Invisible.

Ezra watched another omega step into the fire circle—perfect posture, perfect smile—tilting his neck just so for the alpha beside him. The crowd howled, the sound thick with approval. Another bond made. Another golden couple sealed by tradition.

Ezra let out a quiet snort.

“Yeah. Real sweet,” he muttered, barely moving his lips.

Fated mates. The whole choosing thing. It was a show—painted in old symbols and fake smiles. Alphas strutted around like they were doing omegas a favor. And omegas? Most of them played along, hoping someone would see them. Choose them. Maybe even love them.

Ezra had stopped hoping a long time ago.

Suddenly, the air shifted.

The energy in the clearing dipped, like something ancient had walked in wearing a human face. All the noise died at once. The silence was sharp, almost expectant.

Ezra looked up.

A figure entered the circle—tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in black that somehow looked more like battle armor than ceremony. The moonlight caught on his face just enough to make the tension in Ezra’s chest pull tighter.

The whispers started almost instantly.

“Who’s that?”

“Not from this pack…”

“Is that—Kael Blackthorn?”

Ezra’s breath stilled in his throat.

Kael.

Of course he’d heard of him. Everyone had. The cursed heir of the Blackthorn pack. The one with the unstable wolf. The one with a bloodline the elders whispered about when they thought no one was listening.

They said he carried a mark no alpha should have. That he shouldn’t have survived his first shift.

Ezra had never seen him—until now.

Kael walked like someone barely holding something back, each step slow and deliberate. The sharpness of his suit did nothing to hide the wild tension in his frame—or the fire in his eyes.

He didn’t glance at the lined-up omegas like the others had. Didn’t even slow down to pretend.

He was looking for something. Or someone.

Ezra’s skin prickled.

He should leave. Now. Fade into the trees, slip out before anyone noticed him at all.

But Kael stopped walking.

And looked straight at him.

Their eyes locked across the firelight, and Ezra’s breath caught before he even realized it. His heart punched against his ribs.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

Kael’s head tilted slightly, like he was listening to something no one else could hear. He didn’t look away. Didn’t blink.

Ezra’s wolf stirred inside him—alert, confused, anxious. The kind of feeling that came right before a storm.

He swallowed hard and pushed off the tree, ready to disappear.

Then—

“You.”

Kael’s voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the clearing like it had been waiting centuries to be said.

Ezra froze.

All around him, the crowd fell silent.

Kael stepped forward, eyes locked on Ezra. “You. Step into the circle.”

Ezra turned slowly, blinking like he was trying to wake up from a dream. Or a nightmare.

Someone laughed awkwardly. “Is he serious?” another voice whispered behind him.

Kael didn’t waver. “It’s not a mistake.”

Ezra’s heart was a mess of noise now—loud, panicked, disbelieving.

He wasn’t supposed to be seen.

He wasn’t supposed to be chosen.

But Kael’s voice came again, low and certain, like it came from the earth itself.

“I choose you.”