Cassian
She ran.
And I didn't follow.
The moment the words left my mouth—sharp, deliberate, and final—the air in the circle changed. The hush wasn't one of reverence, but of disbelief. The firelight flickered against the stunned faces of the Crescent Hollow wolves, casting warped shadows across the forest clearing. The flames crackled louder than the whispers, louder than the thundering beat of my own heart.
Amara's shawl, pale and delicate, fluttered from her shoulders and caught in the wind like a ghost of everything we had once hoped for. It felt symbolic—her presence slipping from my world. Her scent, usually so steady and grounding—wildflowers laced with something uniquely hers—vanished into the trees as she ran.
My voice echoed in my skull. "I reject her."
And the moment I said it, the world cracked in two.
My wolf, Kaelen, growled in protest, clawing violently against my ribs.
You fool.
"Quiet," I gritted internally.
She's ours. She was meant for us. You've broken something sacred.
"I had no choice."
You did. You chose fear. You chose them over her. You let them speak louder than your instincts.
Kaelen—fierce, cunning, and utterly devoted—wasn't the kind of wolf to back down from fate. His voice—usually a deep, growling baritone in my mind—was now trembling with fury and heartbreak. I could feel his pain like it was my own, because it was. We were one. And this hurt wasn't something we'd forget.
Amara Locke—the girl who had once tackled me to the ground during training and grinned as I stared up at her in shock. The one who never bowed to rank, never flattered for favor. She had met my authority with laughter, challenged my plans with insight, and wrapped her fire around my heart until I couldn't tell where she ended and I began.
And I'd just shattered her.
Not because I didn't want her. But because I did.
Too much.
The visions had started a month after our bond began to bloom. At first, they were subtle—waking with a pounding heart, a flicker of fire in my dreams. But soon, they turned vivid, unavoidable.
Flames devouring the Crescent Hollow woods. The sky split in two. Blood on the ground, voices screaming, the pack fractured, leaderless. And always—always—her eyes in the center of the storm. Glowing. Wild. Lost.
"You must sever the bond," Elder Marek had warned. "She is the child of an ancient prophecy. The Moon gave her power not meant for this era. If you claim her, you risk awakening what should remain dormant."
I had scoffed at first. I thought they were trying to scare me into obedience.
Until I found the scrolls.
Buried deep in the Luna Hall archives, the old parchment trembled beneath my fingertips as I read the prophecy aloud.
"From blood bound by moon and flame shall rise a Luna of twin fates—one to cradle the world, and one to burn it."
They didn't know which fate she carried. Only that the power was growing. That the bond could ignite it.
So I made my choice.
I rejected her.
I stood on that ritual stone and pretended my insides weren't shattering with every heartbeat.
I told myself it was for her. For the pack.
But the truth?
It was also fear.
Not just of her power—but of what I would become if I let myself fall completely.
You already fell. You just didn't know how to land.
"I'm protecting her."
You're breaking her. You're breaking us.
Kaelen's agony reverberated through my bones. He knew her scent. Her touch. Her voice. Rejecting her was like cutting off a limb—painful, irreversible, and cruel.
I remember the first time I saw her. Really saw her.
It was during combat training. She was drenched in sweat, a wooden practice blade in her hand, facing off against three older enforcers who underestimated her. They were twice her size and half her wit. When one lunged, she twisted, knocked him flat, and turned to the others with a wicked grin.
That grin had haunted me for weeks.
She wasn't soft. She wasn't quiet. And gods, she wasn't interested in being anything other than exactly who she was.
And I fell.
Hard.
That night we first kissed, I remember the crackle in the air, the way her breath hitched just before I leaned in. She had called me infuriating. I had whispered that she was worse. And then we were pressed together against the sparring wall, lips colliding like a clash of swords.
After that, everything became... more.
She consumed me.
The way she thought. The way she spoke. The way she looked at me like I was just Cassian, not the Alpha. She unraveled me.
And I let her.
Until the dreams came. Until the Elders warned me that the bond might be the trigger to wake something ancient inside her.
Until they showed me what might happen if I chose her.
The burden of leadership was never just about power. It was about sacrifice. And I had been raised with one truth hammered into my bones—protect the pack. No matter the cost.
So I chose them over her.
I broke her heart to shield hundreds more.
Or so I told myself.
And then Grayson returned.
My brother. My shadow.
Exiled years ago for refusing to bow. He'd always been the wild one, the defiant one. Stronger than most, unwilling to be tamed. We
had been close once. Until ambition and duty tore us apart.
I hadn't known he was back until the whispers reached me. A lone wolf seen near the borders. A scent of ash and earth trailing near the southern edge. And when I caught his scent during the ceremony, faint but present, I knew.
He had come back.
And I knew what would happen.
I knew the moment Amara ran, the Moon might do what I feared most.
Tie her to him.
Because if I had been fate's safe choice, Grayson was her chaos. Her match in fire and fury.
He would never fear her power. He would feed it.
And she would burn brighter because of it.
Now I stood alone, the flames casting long shadows over the stone.
She was gone. I had sent her into the dark, hoping it would save her. Hoping it would save us all.
But deep in my chest, Kaelen howled in mourning.
Because even if it was the right choice—it didn't feel like one.
And I knew.
I had just lost the only thing that ever made me want to be more than a title.
More than an Alpha.
I had lost Amara.
And the worst part?
The story wasn't over.
Because the Moon doesn't end things. She twists them.
And I had a feeling she had just begun.