Xander's POV
The storm has not stopped for three days. The skies hang heavy, bleeding gray across the horizon, the kind of weather that makes wolves restless. My pack's warriors pace the borders, growls rumbling through the link, waiting for my orders.
But the truth is, even as the future Alpha of Crescent Moon, I cannot focus on them. My thoughts keep circling back to her.
The girl I was bound to by duty. The girl who was taken the night she turned eighteen.
My betrothed. My responsibility.
My wolf claws at me every time I picture her being dragged from her home by rogues. Every time I remember the look in her eyes when she learned of our arranged bond—half defiance, half fear. She was so young, and I was already thirty, already carrying scars from wars she couldn't imagine.
I told myself it was only duty, never love. That a bond forced by politics could never compare to the mate the Moon Goddess denied me. But now that she's gone, I feel the lie burn in my throat.
The rogues didn't just steal her. They dared challenge me.
They dared challenge Crescent Moon.
And I know exactly who is behind it.
Grey. The rogue king.
A Lycan with blood on his hands and no mercy in his soul.
My council gathered the morning after she was taken. Old men in heavy robes, women with sharp eyes and sharper tongues, all arguing about alliances and war. But I kept my silence, because I felt something none of them did. A pull in my chest. The faint echo of her fear through the half-formed bond between us.
She is alive. For now.
And that makes her more dangerous than dead.
The doors to my hall open with a growl of iron hinges, and three figures step inside. Villains, all of them. I know it by the stench of ambition that rolls off them like smoke.
First is Kael, my uncle. His eyes glint like steel, his smile thin and poisonous. He has wanted my throne since the day my father named me heir, and though he swears loyalty, I can hear the hunger in his wolf every time he speaks.
Beside him walks Marcellus, Alpha of Bloodfang. A massive wolf of a man, shoulders thick as boulders, scars etched deep across his arms. His pack has always been hungry for more land, more power. Aligning with him is like striking a bargain with a viper—you know you'll be bitten eventually.
And trailing just behind is Lady Seraphine. Cloaked in silk, eyes lined with kohl, her beauty sharp enough to cut. She calls herself a seer of the Moon, but I have never trusted her visions. She twists truths until they break, whispering poison into the ears of anyone who will listen.
"Xander," Kael purrs, spreading his arms. "We came as soon as word reached us. Such a tragedy, such a shame, to have your bride stolen before your wedding."
His words drip false sympathy.
Marcellus grunts. "It is not only a shame. It is an insult. The rogues strike at your future Luna. That is a challenge of war. Do nothing, and the packs will see weakness."
I meet his gaze coldly. "And what do you suggest? March blindly into Grey's territory and spill blood until the rivers run black?"
"Yes," Marcellus says without hesitation, his wolf rising behind his eyes. "That is the only language rogues understand."
Before I can reply, Seraphine glides closer, her perfume cloying, her smile a serpent's. "Careful, Alpha. The girl's disappearance is not what it seems. I have seen shadows in the smoke, whispers in the fire. She carries something more than her own soul. Something… old."
Her words make my wolf bristle.
"What do you mean?" I demand.
She tilts her head, lashes lowering. "A spirit lingers within her. The spirit of another Luna. One tied to Grey himself. Fate does not play fair games. Perhaps she was never meant to be yours."
The hall grows colder, the storm outside lashing against the walls.
My wolf roars inside me, furious, but doubt coils in my gut. I had felt something strange in the bond since the day we were promised. A fracture. A shadow. Could it be true? Could she carry another's spirit?
If so, then Grey has more claim on her than I ever will.
The thought makes my fists clench.
Kael chuckles low, sensing my rage. "If she is truly bound to Grey, then she is lost to you, nephew. Perhaps it is time to consider another alliance. My daughter, for instance. Strong wolf blood, clever mind. She would make a fine Luna."
I turn on him, my growl shaking the hall. "Speak her name again and I will rip your tongue from your skull."
Kael's smile only widens. He enjoys pushing me, testing the leash of my patience.
Marcellus steps forward, his voice booming. "Enough games. Decide, Xander. Will you hunt her or not? Because if you will not, Bloodfang will."
The challenge in his tone is clear. He would gladly take her himself, parade her as his trophy, strip her of Crescent Moon's protection.
My wolf surges, teeth bared. "She is mine. Any who touch her will die screaming."
For once, silence falls.
Even Kael stops smiling.
Seraphine only tilts her head, her eyes glittering with secrets. "Then prepare yourself, Alpha. For Grey is not your only enemy. Others watch. Others wait. And the girl…" Her voice drops to a whisper. "The girl may destroy you all."
That night, when the council disperses, I stand alone in the war room. Maps cover the table, ink marks of battles fought and borders contested. My hands press hard against the wood, claws threatening to break through my skin.
I see her face in every shadow. Her eyes when she was taken. Her voice when she asked me once, quietly, what would happen if we didn't want this bond.
I had told her it didn't matter. That duty was heavier than want.
But now, duty feels like a noose.
I close my eyes, trying to reach for the bond, but it slips like smoke through my fingers. Still, I catch flashes. Her fear. The sting of rejection. The echo of a man's voice I don't know. Grey's.
Rage consumes me.
I swear to the Moon, I will tear through the rogue king's lands, rip open his walls, and drag her back. I don't care if she carries another's spirit. I don't care if the Moon Goddess herself placed her in Grey's path.
She is mine.
And I will not lose her.
The storm breaks at dawn.
Howls rise across the forest, carried by the wind. Rogues move in the shadows, watching. Waiting.
War is coming.
And I will meet it with blood.
on both sides.