The feast dragged on into the early hours, laughter and music spilling from the hall like warm light. Kai endured it all with practiced ease—smiling at toasts, nodding at elders' advice, allowing Lydia to hover at his side as though she belonged there.
But his mind wasn't in the hall.
It was in the forest, chasing the memory of ice-blue eyes and silver hair that caught moonlight like frost.
The bond pulled at him relentlessly now, a constant low thrum beneath his skin. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—Jennie—standing in the courtyard, bruised but unbroken, telling him the injury "didn't matter."
It mattered.
More than it should.
Finally, when the musicians struck up a slower song and couples began pairing off on the dance floor, Kai excused himself with a murmur about needing air. Lydia tried to follow, but he gently detached her hand.
"I'll only be a moment."
He slipped out a side door into the cool night, drawing a deep breath of pine-scented air. The moon hung low and bright, just past full, casting the grounds in silver and shadow.
The pull sharpened immediately—like a compass needle swinging north.
Kai didn't fight it.
He followed.
His long strides carried him across the courtyard, past the gardens, into the tree line where the celebration's noise faded to a distant hum. The forest welcomed him, familiar and calming, but tonight it felt different. Charged. As though something watched from the darkness.
The bond guided him deeper than he expected, along paths he hadn't walked since boyhood. Until he reached a small glade ringed by ancient oaks, moonlight pouring into the center like liquid silver.
And there she was.
Jennie stood in the middle of the clearing, bathed in moonlight, her back to him. The servant's cap was gone; her silver-white hair spilled loose down her back, shimmering as though woven from starlight. She wore the same simple gray dress, but it clung softly to her curves in the breeze, the new moon pendant glinting at her throat.
Shadows moved around her—not the ordinary kind cast by trees, but living tendrils that rose from the ground, curling lazily around her ankles, her wrists, brushing her hair like affectionate pets.
Kai froze at the edge of the glade, breath catching.
She was… breathtaking.
Not just beautiful—though she was, in a cold, ethereal way that made his wolf growl low with want—but powerful. The air around her hummed with something ancient, cool, and utterly commanding.
Jennie turned slowly, as if she'd known he was there all along.
Her ice-blue eyes met his across the moonlight. No fear. No submission. Just quiet, steady strength.
"You shouldn't be here," she said softly. Her voice carried easily in the stillness—low, velvet, edged with frost.
Kai stepped forward anyway. "I followed the bond."
Jennie's lips curved in a faint, cool smile. "Did you? Or did you just want to see if the defective girl was crying over you?"
The words stung, but he deserved them.
"I wanted to see if you were safe," he said. "The bruise—"
"Is nothing new." She tilted her head. "You didn't care last night."
"I cared," he growled, the admission surprising even himself. "I just… didn't understand."
"And now?"
Kai took another step. The shadows around her stirred, rising slightly as if in warning. He stopped.
"I still don't understand," he admitted. "But I feel it. Stronger than before. It's driving me insane."
Jennie watched him, expression unreadable. The shadows coiled tighter around her, protective.
"It's the mate bond," she said simply. "You felt it the moment you saw me. I felt it too."
Kai's heart slammed against his ribs. "But there's no scent. No confirmation. In pack law—"
"Pack law doesn't control the Moon Goddess," Jennie interrupted. "It never has."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with moonlight and unspoken things.
Kai's gaze dropped to the shadows dancing at her feet. "What are you?"
The question hung in the air.
Jennie lifted one hand. The shadows rose to meet it, wrapping around her fingers like smoke made solid. They darkened, thickened, then parted to reveal her palm—empty one moment, holding a perfect white moonflower the next.
Kai's breath caught.
"Something the pack forgot," she said quietly. "Something they threw away."
She let the flower fall. It dissolved into shadow before it hit the ground.
"Veiled Wolf," Kai whispered, the old legend surfacing from childhood stories. "They were myths."
"Myths don't bruise," Jennie replied. "Myths don't bleed."
Kai's wolf surged forward, desperate to close the distance, to protect, to claim. He took another step.
The shadows rose higher, forming a subtle barrier.
Jennie's eyes softened—just a fraction. "You chose Lydia."
"I didn't choose anyone," he said roughly. "I chose what the pack expects. What logic demands. A strong Luna. Alliances. Scent-proof bonds."
"And now?"
"Now logic feels like a cage."
Jennie studied him for a long moment. The shadows eased slightly, allowing him one more step closer.
"You hurt me," she said, voice steady but raw at the edges. "You looked at me like I was nothing. Then you walked away."
Kai's throat tightened. "I was wrong."
The admission hung between them.
Jennie's ice-blue eyes searched his face. "Words are easy, Alpha heir."
"I know."
He dropped to one knee—not in submission to rank, but to her. The gesture of respect, of apology, from the future leader to the pack's forgotten shadow.
Jennie's breath caught, barely audible.
"I don't know what this power is," Kai said, voice low. "I don't know why the Goddess paired me with someone the pack calls defective. But I know I can't walk away again. Not tonight. Not ever."
The shadows stilled completely, as if listening.
Jennie stepped forward. The darkness parted for her like curtains.
She stopped an arm's length away, close enough that Kai could see the faint shimmer of tears she refused to let fall.
"You'll have to prove it," she whispered. "Not to me. To the pack. To yourself."
Kai reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, he brushed a loose strand of silver hair from her bruised cheek—gentle, reverent.
"I will," he vowed.
The bond flared bright and hot between them, no longer one-sided.
For a heartbeat, the glade held only moonlight and possibility.
Then a distant howl rose from the pack house—sharp, urgent. A warrior's alert.
Kai tensed. Jennie's shadows surged protectively.
"Rogues at the border," Kai said, recognizing the call.
Jennie's eyes hardened. "Or something worse."
Kai rose, hand still lingering near her face. "Come with me."
She hesitated—only a moment.
Then the shadows cloaked her completely, and when they parted, she stood beside him in the moonlight, silver hair wild and free.
"Lead the way, Alpha heir."
Together, they ran toward the danger—future Alpha and forgotten shadow, bond thrumming bright between them.
The forest blurred past in streaks of silver and black. Kai's powerful strides ate the ground, his black wolf form a storm of muscle and speed, but Jennie matched him effortlessly. Her arctic-white wolf moved like liquid moonlight—silent, graceful, shadows trailing from her paws as if the night itself stretched to keep pace.
The mate bond sang between them, no longer a painful tug but a vibrant current, electric and alive. Every leap, every shared glance in wolf form, strengthened it. Kai's wolf brushed against hers once—muzzle to shoulder—in instinctive reassurance. Jennie's wolf allowed it, ears flicking forward, a silent acknowledgment.
They burst into the border clearing side by side, shifting mid-stride into human form without breaking momentum.
The warriors parted for them, eyes wide at the sight of Jennie standing shoulder-to-shoulder with their future Alpha.
But in the darkness they left behind, deep beneath the ancient oak in Jennie's hidden glade, something stirred.
The buried golden necklace—Lydia's heirloom, wrapped in shadow and soil—pulsed once.
A soft, ethereal glow emanated from the emeralds, faint as starlight seen through deep water. The chain links shivered, though no wind touched the earth above. Roots shifted imperceptibly, cradling it closer, as though the tree itself had drawn a breath.
A whisper—not sound, but feeling—rippled through the soil.
Approval.
Recognition.
Welcome.
The power that had awakened in Jennie was not solitary. It was part of something older, deeper—a lineage long buried, now reaching up through root and shadow to greet its newest daughter.
The necklace pulsed again, stronger this time, and for a fleeting moment the buried gold warmed—as if kissed by moonlight it could not see.
Then it stilled.
Waiting.
Patient as centuries.
Because the Veiled Wolf had returned.
And the ancient bloodline remembered her name.
Far away at the border, Jennie paused mid-conversation with Gareth, a sudden chill racing down her spine. She glanced back toward the heart of the forest, ice-blue eyes narrowing.
Kai noticed immediately. "What is it?"
Jennie shook her head slowly. "Something… just woke up."
The warriors exchanged uneasy glances.
Kai stepped closer, protective instinct flaring. "Good or bad?"
Jennie met his gaze, a faint, wondering smile touching her lips.
"Good," she whispered. "Very good."
And in that moment, beneath the watchful moon, the forgotten shadow began to realize she might never be forgotten again.