The days that followed the Ritual felt like walking through a dream.
Sera wasn't just seeing the world differently—she was feeling it. Her senses had become razor-sharp. Every breath Lucien took, every heartbeat of the forest, every emotion that passed through the pack—it was all hers now.
And something inside her… had begun to stir.
She walked past a mirror in Lucien's cabin and caught her reflection: skin glowing, eyes brighter, the golden bite mark shimmering like a brand of destiny. But there was something else too—something behind her eyes. A flicker of shadow. A memory she didn't recognize.
It came with a voice.
"You are not one of them."
Sera spun around. No one there.
"You belong to the night. Not to the wolves."
She pressed a hand to her chest, trembling.
What was happening to her?
Lucien's Worry
Lucien returned from a patrol at dusk, blood staining his hands, jaw set tight.
"They've crossed into our territory again."
"Who?" Sera asked.
"The Crimson Fang. But something's wrong. They're moving differently. Almost like… they're hunting something."
She looked up at him, heart pounding. "Me."
He didn't deny it.
Lucien cupped her face, his voice low and raw.
"They want what they can't have. What they'll never touch."
He kissed her hard, as if anchoring her back to the present. As if reminding her—she was his.
But that night, when he left to deal with a border dispute, a knock came at the cabin door.
Ronan.
His eyes were stormy. Angry. And not entirely human.
"You don't know what you are," he growled.
Sera blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You think you're Lucien's little mate? The perfect bond? You're something else. And if you don't figure it out soon, you'll get him killed."
Then he vanished into the woods, leaving her heart racing and her mind spinning.