DAMIAN POV
The smoke was visible from miles away.
Thin columns rising into the gray sky like funeral pyres. Damian urged his horse faster, his Beta guard struggling to keep pace.
"Your Majesty, wait!" Captain Thorne called from behind. "We don't know what we're riding into!"
Damian didn't slow.
Three days ago, word had reached the capital. The Eltharion estate had been attacked. Burned. The entire family slaughtered.
In his name.
Soldiers bearing his banners. His colors. His seal on the execution orders.
Except Damian had given no such orders.
He'd been in the northern territories, mediating a border dispute between two rival packs. When he'd returned to find reports of a massacre committed by his own forces, his blood had run cold.
Someone had used his authority. His seal. His soldiers.
To murder an entire noble family.
The Eltharions. Beta wolves who'd served his father loyally. Who'd sworn allegiance to Damian's crown without hesitation.
Lord Matthias had been a good man. Fair. Honest. His wife, Lady Elara, had been known for her kindness and wisdom.
And they had daughters. Young ones.
Damian's jaw clenched as the estate came into view.
Or what remained of it.
The manor was a skeleton. Blackened stone and collapsed timber. The east wing had fallen in completely. Smoke still rose from smoldering embers.
The grounds were eerily empty. No bodies. No survivors. Just ash and ruin.
Damian dismounted before his horse fully stopped. His boots hit the scorched earth and he stumbled.
A scent hit him like a physical blow.
Female wolf. Young. Powerful.
And underneath it, something else. Something that made his wolf surge to attention inside his chest.
Recognition.
Damian froze. His hand went to his chest without thought.
There. A pull. Faint. Almost imperceptible. Like a thread connecting him to something far away.
A mate bond.
Impossible.
He was thirty years old. Had never felt a bond before. Had assumed the Moon Goddess simply hadn't chosen a mate for him.
But this...
His wolf howled inside him. Not in greeting. In mourning.
Because the scent was old. Days old. And mixed with blood and fear and death.
"Your Majesty?" Thorne had caught up. He dismounted, hand on his sword. "What is it?"
Damian couldn't speak. He followed the scent like a man possessed.
Through the ruined gardens. Past scorched roses and cracked fountains.
The scent grew stronger near the rose trellis.
And there, beneath the blackened wood, he found it.
A cairn. Freshly made. Stones carefully stacked. A piece of charred wood carved with a name.
ISOLDE ELTHARION
BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER
SEVEN YEARS OLD
Damian's knees gave out. He fell before the grave.
Seven years old.
A child.
Murdered by soldiers wearing his colors.
"Gods," Thorne whispered behind him. "They killed the children too."
Damian's hands shook as he touched the stones. Felt the earth beneath. Still soft. Recently turned.
Someone had buried her. Had taken the time to do it properly. To mark her grave.
But who?
The reports said no survivors. Every Eltharion dead. Every guest at their feast slaughtered.
Yet someone had buried this child with care.
His wolf whined. Still feeling that pull. That thread.
Not from the grave. The dead girl wasn't his mate.
From somewhere else. Somewhere distant.
Another scent clung to the stones. Different from the child. Older. Same family line but...
Alive.
Someone from this family was alive.
Damian stood. Turned to Thorne.
"The reports said both daughters died."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Isolde and..." Thorne checked a paper he'd brought. "Selene. Age ten."
"Where's the other grave?"
"I... I don't know."
Damian's heart hammered. He followed his nose. Following that thread. That pull.
Through the garden. To the groundskeeper's shed.
The door hung open. Inside, evidence of hiding. Disturbed sacks. A knife on the floor.
And that scent. Stronger here.
Female. Young. Powerful.
She'd been here. Hidden here. Survived.
"She's alive," Damian breathed.
"Who, Your Majesty?"
"The other daughter. Selene. She survived."
His wolf surged. Desperate. Searching.
But the scent trail was days old. Long gone.
Thorne's face paled. "If she survived, where is she?"
"I don't know." Damian turned, scanning the grounds. "But someone helped her escape. Someone buried the younger sister and got the older one out."
He followed the scent trail to the edge of the property. Where it disappeared into the forest.
Gone.
His mate. Because that's what she was. What she would be. That faint pull could only mean one thing.
She was too young now. Ten years old. A child.
But one day, when she grew into her wolf, when she came of age...
The bond would complete.
If she survived that long.
Damian's fists clenched. His wolf snarled inside him.
Someone had attacked his mate's family. Had murdered her parents. Her sister. Had tried to kill her.
In his name.
Using his authority.
Making him responsible.
"Thorne." His voice came out as a growl. "I want answers. I want to know who gave these orders. Which commander. Which captain. I want names."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I'll start investigating immediately."
"And find me the girl. Selene Eltharion. Put out word. Discreet word. I want her found. Protected. Brought to safety."
"The reports say there's a bounty on her head. A marked wolf. The soldiers were specifically hunting her."
Marked.
Damian's blood ran cold.
The Crimson Crescent. The prophecy.
Of course. That's why someone had done this. Fear of the prophecy. Fear of what a marked wolf could become.
"Cancel the bounty. Immediately. Send riders to every territory. The hunt for the marked wolf is over. Anyone who harms her will answer to me personally."
"Your Majesty, if she's marked, the prophecy..."
"I don't care about prophecies!" Damian's voice cracked like thunder. His Alpha power rolled out, making Thorne stagger back. "She's a child. A ten-year-old child who watched her family murdered. She deserves protection. Not execution."
He took a breath. Forced himself to calm.
"She's my..." He stopped. Couldn't say it. Couldn't admit he'd felt a mate bond with a child. It sounded wrong. Sick.
But it wasn't like that. The bond was pure. Recognition. The Moon Goddess marking two souls meant for each other.
Age didn't matter to the bond. Only compatibility. Only rightness.
But she was still a child. And he would protect her as such. Nothing more. Not until she grew. Not until she chose.
If she even survived long enough to choose.
"Find her," Damian said quietly. "Please. Find her and keep her safe."
"I'll do everything I can, Your Majesty."
Damian returned to the grave. Knelt before it again.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the dead child beneath the stones. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. Couldn't protect your family."
His hand touched the carved name. Isolde.
"I'll find who did this. I swear it. I'll find them and they'll answer for every drop of blood spilled here."
He stood. Looked at the ruined estate. At the evidence of massacre.
Someone had done this. Someone with access to his seal. His soldiers. His authority.
Someone close to him.
A traitor in his own court.
Damian's jaw set. His wolf snarled inside him.
He'd find them. Hunt them down. Make them pay.
And he'd find Selene. His future mate. The marked wolf. The girl who'd survived when she shouldn't have.
He'd protect her. Even if she never knew. Even if she hated him for what was done in his name.
He'd keep her safe.
Because eight years from now, when she came of age, when the bond completed...
She'd be his Queen.
If he could find her before the wolves hunting her did.
Damian mounted his horse. Took one last look at the grave.
"I'll come back," he promised. "When this is over. When justice is served. I'll come back and tell you everything."
He turned his horse toward the capital.
Toward answers.
Toward whoever had dared use his name to commit murder.
They would regret the day they were born.