Selene Blackwood stood at the edge of the riverbank, her silhouette bathed in moonlight. The fabric of her cloak clung to her tall, beautiful and well carved out body, every breath representing power from hardwork, from blood and from sweat. As Alpha of the Taylor Pack, she bore the weight of tradition with shoulders that had never buckled.
Not once.
But tonight, she had an usual feeling.
Something didn't sit right somewhere.
She lifted her head and with her nose to the air she sniffed the breeze as if trying to percieve what was wrong. The scent of pine and moss filled her senses—normal. And yet, beneath this, something teasing came in through her little sniffs.
Smoke?
Blood?
Human!
Selene's lips parted as she growled.in displeasure. The borders had been long sealed to mark the boundary between other beings especially humans and werewolves. Any breach was punishable by death.
A soft rustle behind her drew her attention. Alia, her Beta and most trusted friend, stepped forward, her voice low. "There's been some trouble, one of our pack members found a werewolf who had been wounded."
Selene's golden eyes narrowed. "Is it one of ours?"
"No," Alia replied. "Not marked. Not registered and no sign to prove it's relation to us."
"Rogue?" Selene asked, already turning.
"Possibly."
Without any further explanation from her Beta, Selene moved forward ready to act . The boots on her feet barely made any sound as she disappeared into the thin air. Alia at her side. Trees whipped past them in a blur, the walked so fast even the breeze had to take pauses to let them past or face their fury.
Within minutes, they found the clearing. Blood soaked the grass, and in the center lay a large wolf, fur matted and chest rising shallowly. Beside it knelt a man—no, a human.
He was crouched low, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, hands bloody as he pressed cloth into the wolf's side. The moment he looked up, Selene's breath caught.
Storm-grey eyes met hers. Intelligent. Steady. And completely unafraid.
"Step away," she ordered.
The man didn't flinch. "If I do, she dies."
Alia moved instantly, but Selene held up a hand, halting her.
"I said step away," Selene repeated, voice like tempered steel.
The man stood slowly. He was tall, beautiful, with broad shoulders and very captivating hair and eyes and a quiet strength in his stance. "You're her Alpha," he said.
Selene blinked. "You know our kind?"
"I've studied your anatomy," he said. "I'm a doctor."
The wolf whimpered behind him.
He took a small step back, raising his hands. "I didn't come here to hurt anyone. I found her bleeding near the river. I patched her as best I could, but I didn't know where to return her."
Alia growled, baring her teeth.
Selene tilted her head. "Name."
"Mingi…
Mingi Hart."
She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. The name meant nothing to her, but his scent—
The wind shifted.
A strange rush filled her chest, like someone had struck her heart with a sudden pulse of fire. Her wolf stirred—violently.
Mate?
No. No.
Her breath caught. This wasn't possible. The mate bond was sacred. It was the foundation of every werewolf's soul. It was fate's cruel game, drawing two souls together whether they willed it or not.
But he was human.
Selene stumbled back a step, and Mingi tensed. "Are you all right?"
She didn't answer.
"Alia," she snapped, voice hoarse. "Take him. Quietly."
"What about the wolf?"
"I'll carry her myself."
Mingi opened his mouth to object, but Alia was already behind him, pressing a blade to his spine.
"Move."
He looked at Selene one last time. "I meant no harm."
She couldn't bring herself to answer.
The air inside the healing chamber was heavy with herbs and the quiet drip of water from the cave walls. Selene knelt beside the wounded wolf, who now stirred weakly.
"You're not just a rogue," she whispered. "You're a sign."
From behind her, the curtain parted. Elara, the High Priestess, entered, her dark robes gliding over the stone.
"You felt it," she said softly.
Selene didn't turn. "He's human."
"But he's your mate."
She closed her eyes.
Elara crouched beside her, eyes glowing with ancient wisdom. "You've always trusted the moon, Selene. Trust it now."
"I'm to bond with Lucian," Selene said bitterly. "I am the bridge to peace. Not a woman who disobeys fate."
Elara was silent for a long moment. "Fate doesn't ask. It commands."
Selene stood sharply. "And if I refuse?"
Elara met her gaze. "Then it won't just be hearts that break—it will be packs. It will be blood."
Mingi sat in a stone-walled chamber, his shirt bloodied but his hands steady. He examined the cuffs they'd given him—silver alloy, not pure. Meant to deter, not kill.
The door creaked open, and Selene entered.
Her face was unreadable, but her presence—raw power cloaked in elegance—hit him like a wave.
She shut the door behind her.
"I'm not your enemy," Mingi said first.
"No," she said. "You're something worse."
He blinked. "Worse than your enemies?"
"You're my mate."
His breath stilled. "I don't understand."
"You're not meant to." She crossed her arms. "You're leaving in the morning. You'll forget this place. Forget me."
He stood slowly. "You're asking me to forget the way my blood shifted the moment I saw you?"
She flinched. He saw it.
"I don't know what this is," he continued. "But I know it's not nothing."
She stepped forward, rage simmering beneath her words. "I am bound to another. To my people. If I follow this—whatever it is—we all burn."
"Maybe they need to burn," he said. "So you can rise."
She struck him.
Not hard. But enough.
His cheek reddened. He turned back to her with calm, dangerous eyes. "There's more to me than you know."
"Exactly. That's what makes you a threat."
Their breath tangled in the air between them. It was not a desire. Not yet. It was the beginning of a war neither had chosen.
A knock came.
"Selene," Alia's voice sounded from behind the door. "Something's happening on the southern border."
Selene's expression shuttered. "You stay here."
But as she stepped into the corridor, Elara was waiting.
"They found a sigil," she whispered. "Carved in ash. Blood magic."
Selene's heart dropped.
"Who?" she asked.
Elara's voice trembled. "Lady Sorenna Duskbane."
Selene turned—and i
n the shadows behind the trees, just beyond the torchlight, a figure stood barefoot and smiling, eyes glowing red.
Sorenna.
The witch had returned.
And she was watching.