Chapter 3

The clearing stank of blood.

Damien’s golden wolf paced the edge of the treeline, fur slick with crimson, eyes burning as he watched the shadows where Marcus had vanished. His muscles trembled with rage and exhaustion, but he didn’t let himself collapse. He couldn’t — not with Emilia watching.

Behind him, she sat against a tree, arms wrapped tight around her knees, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. Her skin still glowed faintly where the bond had surged, her eyes wide with fear and wonder.

The silence pressed heavy between them.

Finally, Damien shifted back, his body slick with sweat, blood streaked down his shoulder where his father’s teeth had torn him open. The wound had knitted enough to stop the bleeding, but it still burned.

Emilia scrambled up at once, her hands trembling as they reached for him. “You’re hurt again.”

“I’ll live,” Damien rasped, forcing himself upright. His body screamed, but he ignored it. He had to. “We can’t stay here. He’ll be back.”

Her lip trembled. “What just happened? The light, the—”

“The bond,” he said, voice raw, cutting her off before she could speak the word like it was a sin. He grabbed her wrist, pressing her hand over his chest where his heartbeat thundered. “The Moon bound us tonight. You feel it. You know.”

Her throat worked as her fingers trembled against his skin. She did feel it — the pull, the heat, the fire threading through her veins that wasn’t hers alone.

Damien’s eyes burned into hers, desperate and fierce. “You’re mine, Emilia. And I’m yours. No one can change that.”

But even as he said it, Marcus’s voice echoed in his skull. Weakness. Shame. Chains you cannot afford.

Emilia swallowed hard, torn between the terror of it and the wild, dangerous thrill. “Damien… your father—”

“I don’t give a damn what he says,” Damien growled, sharper than he meant. His wolf snarled in agreement, claws pressing at his skin. “He can try to rip it from me, but he’ll fail. He’ll never take you.”

Emilia’s heart raced. She wanted to believe him. But Marcus’s silver eyes haunted her.

And somewhere far away, Marcus himself sat in quiet conversation, plotting their doom.

The Blackfang estate was silent at night, its stone halls echoing with the whispers of wolves too afraid to raise their voices. Marcus poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the firelight, his hand steady despite the blood still smeared across his knuckles.

Across from him sat Roan Stormfang.

Selene’s father was broad-shouldered, his hair white as fresh snow though his eyes gleamed sharp and cold as steel. He carried his aura with the quiet weight of a man who had nothing to prove.

Marcus broke the silence. “The boy has become a problem.”

Roan tilted his head. “So I’ve heard.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. He threw back the liquor, the glass clinking hard against the table as he set it down. “He fights me. For a maid. A servant’s daughter. He would tear down his bloodline for her.”

Roan sipped his drink, unhurried. “And the bond?”

The word twisted Marcus’s stomach. He bared his teeth in a humorless smile. “It’s real. I saw it tonight. The Moon’s mark, blazing bright. Disgusting.”

Roan raised a brow. “The Moon does not bind lightly, Marcus. You know that.”

Marcus leaned forward, silver eyes sharp as blades. “The Moon is blind. She binds where she will, without sense or order. I will not let her mistake dictate my pack’s future.”

Roan said nothing, only studied him with that unnerving calm.

Marcus’s lips curled. “That’s where Selene comes in.”

Finally, Roan smiled — slow, thin, calculating. “Ah.”

“Our packs need each other,” Marcus pressed on. “Bloodlines united, power secured. My son will wed your daughter. He may fight it, but he will obey. And once Selene carries his heir, the pack will have no choice but to see where his loyalty lies.”

“And the maid?” Roan asked smoothly.

Marcus’s voice dropped to a growl. “She’ll be dealt with. Quietly. Permanently, if necessary.”

For the first time, Roan’s lips twitched into something colder than amusement. “You speak of killing your son’s mate bond.”

Marcus’s silver eyes hardened. “I speak of reminding him that he is mine before he is anything else. If he bares his fangs at me again, I’ll break them myself.”

Just beyond the study’s heavy oak doors, Selene listened.

Her storm-grey eyes gleamed in the shadows, her lips curving into a slow, wicked smile.

So it was true. The maid had bound Damien in a mate bond.

Selene’s heart quickened with something sharp and sweet — amusement, hunger, the thrill of a challenge. Her father wanted her to marry Damien for power. Marcus wanted her to chain him into obedience.

But Selene?

Selene wanted control.

She imagined the golden heir snarling beneath her heel, his fire dimmed, his bond severed. She imagined tearing Emilia apart piece by piece, watching the light die in Damien’s eyes.

Her smile widened.

Yes. This would be fun.

Damien and Emilia moved through the forest, their steps muffled on the damp earth. Every sound made Emilia flinch, every shadow seemed to carry silver eyes.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“As far as we can get before dawn,” Damien said, his jaw tight, his body tense.

She glanced at him — his bare chest streaked with blood, muscles taut, golden eyes burning even in the dark. He looked wild, dangerous, magnificent. And hers.

The bond pulsed, pulling her closer with every step. Her fingers brushed his hand. Heat flared between them, so strong it stole her breath.

Damien stopped. Slowly, he turned, his golden gaze pinning her in place.

“Do you feel it?” he asked, voice low, rough.

Her throat tightened. “Yes.”

He stepped closer. The air between them crackled, heavy, hot. His hand rose, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing her lips. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

“I shouldn’t,” he muttered, his breath rough against her skin.

“But you want to,” she whispered back.

The bond howled, demanding. His wolf surged, claws scraping, begging to mark, to claim. For one dangerous moment, he leaned closer, lips hovering over hers, heat burning between them—

A voice sliced through the night like a blade.

“Well,” Selene purred, stepping from the shadows, her grey eyes glinting with cruel delight. “Isn’t this sweet?”

Damien spun, golden eyes blazing, shoving Emilia behind him. “Selene.”

She smirked, strolling closer, her hips swaying, her aura sharp enough to sting Emilia’s skin. “Running away with the help? How scandalous.” Her gaze slid to Emilia, slow and mocking. “I wanted to see what made you so… irresistible. And you’re just a maid.”

Emilia’s cheeks burned, but she lifted her chin, even as her wolf whimpered.

Selene laughed softly. “Oh, I like you. You’ll make such a beautiful tragedy.”

Damien snarled, golden light blazing. “Stay away from her.”

Selene tilted her head, smirking. “Or what? You’ll fight me too? You already bared your fangs at your father. Careful, golden boy. You’re making enemies faster than you can bleed.”

Her stormy gaze lingered on him, then dropped deliberately to Emilia’s hand in his. “It won’t matter anyway. Your father has already promised me what I want.”

Emilia’s stomach dropped. “What… what does she mean?”

Selene’s smile curved sharper. “Didn’t he tell you, pretty maid? You’re playing at love with a man already betrothed.”

Damien’s jaw clenched. His golden eyes burned with fury and shame.

“She means,” he said, his voice raw, broken, “my father has arranged my marriage.”

Emilia’s breath caught, her world tilting.

And then, before either could speak, a howl split the night. Deep. Commanding. Marcus’s.

The hunt had begun.