Liora didn't sleep. Not even close.
She just kind of... sat there, right on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, not moving, not blinking, dagger glued to her palm. Kael had melted into the shadows ages ago, but she couldn't make herself leave. Every single noise—twig snap, owl hoot, wind through the trees—made her jump like she was the world's most paranoid rabbit.
At some point, she noticed her hand was shaking so bad her nails had dug into her skin. Blood was dripping down her palm, which, honestly, she barely registered.
Mate.
That word. God. Like someone had thrown a brick through her chest.
She'd read about it. They all had—textbook stuff. The whole pounding-heart, soul-bond, wolf-gets-all-excited legend. Except, you know, it was supposed to be total fairytale nonsense.
Mates are rare. Like, unicorn rare. Not supposed to actually happen. Especially not with someone you're supposed to kill.
Especially not Kael Draven.
The guy's practically a myth. Ghost stories for baby wolves. Murderer, enemy, public enemy number one for the bloodlines.
And still... her wolf wanted him. Wanted him. Like, what kind of cosmic joke was that?
She could feel it, deep down in her bones, her mind—a hungry, ancient part of her that practically purred at the memory of his voice, his scent, the heat radiating off him. Her instincts were ready to riot, but her training screamed danger.
Wanna know the worst part?
She didn't kill him.
Not because she couldn't.
Because she straight-up didn't want to.
That scared her more than anything else.
Dawn. Or close enough. Liora dragged herself back to the outpost—hunters' camp wedged into the side of the mountain, all hidden away with fancy glyphs and rocks and secrets.
The guards at the gate saw her coming, looking like she'd crawled through hell backwards—blood-smeared, pale, eyes hollow.
One of them muttered, "Vale, what the hell happened?"
She ignored him and kept walking. Straight into the command tent.
Commander Thorne was hunched over a map, flanked by his personal doom squad. He looked up, eyes cold as frozen lakes.
"You look like hell."
"I found him," she said.
The room froze. Like, you could hear the tension crack.
"Draven?" Thorne said, jaw clenching.
She nodded.
"Alive?"
"Yeah."
"You saw him? You're sure?"
"Golden eyes. Smelled like burning pine. Voice like he gargled gravel. It was him."
Thorne stalked around the table, slow, like he was considering whether to eat her or not. "Why are you still breathing?"
Liora flinched, couldn't help it.
"I could ask you the same," she said, voice barely there. "If he's the monster you say, I should be dead."
Thorne's eyes narrowed, all suspicion sharpened to a point.
"And yet here you are."
"He didn't attack," she said, quick. "He recognized me. Said he'd dreamed about me before I even got here."
One of the guards sucked air through his teeth, all superstitious. "Witchcraft."
"No," she shot back, "it wasn't that."
She hesitated, the words sticking.
Thorne stepped in, close enough she could count the veins in his neck. "What aren't you telling me?"
Liora swallowed. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Hands still wouldn't stop shaking.
"He said I'm his mate."
Then—dead silence. Like the whole world was holding its breath.
Thorne's face didn't move much, but something in him snapped tight. You could feel it.
"You're lying."
She looked him in the eye. "Wish I was."
He slammed his fist on the table. Papers jumped.
"You were supposed to kill him, not get soul-tied to him!"
"It wasn't a choice!" she snapped, voice cracking. "You think I asked for this? My wolf's been dead quiet for years, and the second he touched me, it woke up like it'd been waiting for him."
"He cursed you."
"No. This wasn't magic. This was... fate."
Thorne's voice went low. Dangerous. "Fate is for idiots and bedtime stories. Mating bonds are old-world shackles—ways to control Lunas, weaken Alphas. You let him in, Vale. You're compromised."
Her heart thundered, loud enough she wondered if they could hear it.
"He's not what I thought," she whispered. "He let me go."
"That's worse," Thorne growled. "Now he's playing you. He knows what you are."
She blinked. "What am I?"
He turned away. "Dismissed."
She didn't budge. "Commander—"
"Dismissed."
Tent flap dropped shut behind her. For the first time in forever, Liora felt real fear. Not of Kael. Not the curse. Of the people she'd always trusted.
Night fell hard and fast up here.
Liora sat outside her tent, working her blade by moonlight, replaying every moment in the woods. Kael's voice, those eyes, the scent of him. That pull in her chest, relentless.
A sound behind her.
She spun around, blade glinting.
Not a guard.
Her wolf. Not physically—she still hadn't shifted. But it was awake now, pacing inside her skull, restless.
Wanting.
She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deep.
"Why him?" she whispered. "Why now?"
Nothing. Just that electric buzz under her skin.
Then—an actual noise. Footsteps, boots on leaves.
She was up, knife ready.
A figure emerged from the edge of camp.
"Whoa, easy," came a voice. "It's me."
Dante.
Tall, dark-eyed, scar down his jaw, medals everywhere. One of the Council's shadow guys. Also, her only friend in this mess.
He raised his hands. "Didn't mean to spook you."
She dropped the blade a little. "Old habits die hard."
Dante came closer, gave her a look. "Heard about your night."
"Word travels fast around here."
He let out a laugh, sharp and dry—almost bitter. "Well, isn't this just peachy. Dead Alpha King wanders back from the grave and snatches up a Council weapon as his fated mate. That's a new one, even for me."
She winced, like his words physically stung.
His eyes flicked over her, scanning for blood or bruises. "You in one piece?"
She shook her head. "Not really."
He just shrugged. "Yeah, figured."
Awkward silence. The kind that's heavy and crowded, even with barely two people and a load of secrets.
Finally, she broke it. "Do you believe me?"
He paused, eyes narrowed. "I've seen weirder, not gonna lie. But I also know the Council doesn't exactly throw parties for hunters who screw up."
Liora's throat worked. Swallowing didn't help.
"They want to use me," she muttered, voice small.
His mouth twisted. "Already are. That's why I showed up."
From inside his jacket, he fished out an envelope—black wax, sigil like a bloody thumbprint.
Council orders. The kind that make your hands shake.
Liora ripped it open. Gold ink, one line.
Return to the forest. Confirm the bond. Neutralize if compromised.
Her skin went ice-cold. Really, truly cold.
"They want bait," she whispered. "Me. I'm supposed to lure him in. And..."
"Finish it," Dante finished, face like stone. "If the bond's real, they think you'll get close enough to pull it off."
She squeezed the paper so hard it crumpled.
"And if I can't?"
He didn't sugarcoat it. "Then they'll send someone else. Someone who can."
Her mouth tasted like ash.
"They're not letting him walk away. Or me."
Dante glanced away. "You're important, Vale. But nobody's irreplaceable."
She crushed the letter in her fist. Just wanted to tear the whole Council to shreds.
"What would you do?" she asked, voice barely there.
He looked at her, steady and clear. "I'd find the real story before anyone else does."
She went back to the forest that night. Alone. No backup, no earpiece, no Council leash.
Just her. And a hell of a lot of questions.
The air got colder the deeper she went, fog swirling up from the roots like the forest was breathing her in. It remembered her. And so did he.
He stepped out of the shadows, silent as a nightmare.
No claws, no weapons, nothing between them but old ghosts.
Kael Draven.
He looked at her like a storm looks at the horizon—calm, but you just know something's building underneath.
"You came back," he said, voice low.
"Didn't have a choice." Not really, anyway.
He didn't smile, didn't look surprised either. Guess he knew her better than she thought.
She squared her shoulders. "Tell me everything. No more games."
He just nodded, and with a quick tilt of his head, led her deeper into the woods. They walked in silence, the kind that presses on your ears. Moonlight spilled out into a clearing, spotlight on a ruined altar—stone cracked, vines choking whatever magic still throbbed there.
"This is where it all started," Kael said.
She stared at the altar. "The curse?"
He nodded. "Council said they wanted unity. Peace. Convinced me this ritual would bind the packs, keep us safe."
Her eyes narrowed. "And?"
"And they bound my wolf. Stole my power. Made me Moonless."
She sucked in a breath. "Why?"
"I wouldn't kneel. Wouldn't let them breed out the bloodlines for their perfect order. I wanted freedom. They wanted a leash."
He ran a claw along the altar, almost gentle. Like grief made flesh.
"I lost everything. Pack, Luna, even my name."
She stopped cold. "You had a mate?"
He didn't look at her. Not really. "Thought I did. Turns out, she was in on it. Her betrayal finished the curse."
Her heart just about broke for him.
"I'm not her," she whispered.
He met her eyes, something raw there. "No. You're not."
Then, softer, like a secret he barely dared say, "You're the only thing that's ever cracked the curse."
Her chest tightened.
He stepped closer, and her wolf inside her stirred—possessive, fierce, not scared at all.
"We're bonded," he said. "I feel you. Every heartbeat. Every bruise. Right here, right now."
Liora's voice shook. "So you know what's coming."
He just nodded. "They'll kill us both."
Her jaw set. "Not if we get them first."
He went still, like the whole world was holding its breath.
She stepped into his space. "I'm done being a pawn. If this bond is real, I want to know what that means. I want to choose my own fate."
He looked at her—really looked, not as a Council weapon, not as a threat, but as a partner.
A mate.
A queen.
He held out his hand—rough, scarred, honest.
"Let's start with the truth."
She took it, warmth flaring up her arm, wild and bright and absolutely unbreakable.
War was coming. And this time, she wasn't running.