They locked Elara away at dawn.
Iron wards. Moon-scribed chains. Elder blessings meant to restrain monsters.
Rowan fought every guard who tried to stop him.
"Don't touch her!" he roared, eyes wild. "You don't know what she is!"
"That's exactly why we must contain her," Elder Morvain snapped.
Rowan turned on him, shaking. "You don't understand. Silver Wolves don't just exist. They end things."
The council chamber erupted.
"Impossible." "They're myths." "Propaganda from the old wars."
Rowan slammed his fist into the stone table, cracking it.
"My mother died because of one," he hissed. "My grandfather watched his entire pack slaughtered by a Silver Wolf who loved an Alpha."
Silence.
Then, softly, unbearably— "Kill her."
Every head turned.
Rowan's voice broke as he said it.
"Kill her now. Quietly. Before the bond completes."
The words tasted like poison.
Alpha Caelan rose slowly. "You ask me to kill a girl I raised."
"She's not a girl anymore," Rowan whispered. "She's a prophecy."
Caelan studied him, eyes sharp and calculating.
"No," the Alpha said at last. "We will not execute her."
Relief flooded Rowan—quickly followed by terror.
Because if the Alpha refused…
…the Moon would not.
They brought Elara into the Circle at noon.
She was weak, trembling, silver eyes dulled with confusion and fear. The pack stared openly now—not with pity, but awe… and hunger.
Rowan stood across from her.
She felt him instantly.
The bond snapped into place like a blade sliding between her ribs.
She gasped, clutching her chest as fire seared her skin.
The mate mark bloomed.
Silver.
Perfect.
Unmistakable.
A collective gasp rippled through the pack.
"No," Elara whispered. "No, please—"
Rowan's face drained of color.
The world narrowed to the space between them.
Say something, she begged silently. Say this is wrong.
Rowan took a step forward.
Then he stopped.
His expression hardened—shuttered, cruel, deliberate.
"I reject you," he said coldly.
The words hit harder than any blow.
"You are cursed," Rowan continued, voice ringing through the Circle. "You are an abomination the Moon should have buried centuries ago."
Elara shook her head, tears streaming. "Rowan—"
"I will never be bound to you," he said, louder now. "I would rather die."
The mark burned.
Elara screamed as pain ripped through her chest, through her soul. She collapsed, silver blood staining the stone.
Rowan turned away.
He didn't see her pass out.
He didn't see the way his own heart stuttered—missed a beat—then another.
He only felt the first sharp pain in his chest as the Moon smiled.