Maya's POV
The rain isn't supposed to be warm.
I stand barefoot in the mud—shoes abandoned somewhere between the car and the pyre—and watch my father burn. The heat from the flames fights with the cold October rain, creating steam that makes everything look like a nightmare I can't wake up from.
Someone is lying.
I don't know who yet, but I can feel it in my bones the same way I used to sense when Dad was hiding birthday presents. Except this time, the secret isn't wrapped in shiny paper. This time, it smells like smoke and tastes like ash on my tongue.
Garrett Thornhill was a great Alpha, Uncle Marcus says from under his black umbrella. His voice carries across the clearing where two hundred pack members huddle in their expensive funeral clothes. A loving father. A fair leader. His death was a tragedy none of us saw coming.
Liar.
The word punches through my numb fog so clearly that for a second, I think I said it out loud. But no one's looking at me. They never do. I'm the Alpha's daughter who can't shift, the broken wolf, the embarrassment in a black dress.
His heart simply gave out, Marcus continues, and something about the way he says it—too smooth, too practiced—makes my skin crawl. He died peacefully in his sleep.
More lies. I was there. I heard Dad gasping for air, saw him clutching his chest, watched him mouth words I couldn't understand before his eyes went blank. That wasn't peaceful. That was wrong.
The whispers start like they always do.
Poor thing, standing there all alone...
Twenty-three and still hasn't shifted. Garrett must have been so disappointed...
What will happen to her now? She can't lead the pack...
I dig my toes deeper into the mud and lift my chin. Let them whisper. Let them judge. I've had years of practice pretending their words don't cut.
The pyre collapses inward with a crack that sounds like breaking bones. Sparks explode into the rain, and I watch them die before they hit the ground. Just like that. One moment burning bright, the next—nothing.
That's when I feel it.
Someone is watching me.
Not the casual glances of the pack members who look away when I catch them staring. This is different. Heavier. Like the weight of storm clouds before lightning strikes.
I turn my head slowly, scanning the crowd until
There.
Dominic Ashford stands at the very edge of the clearing, separated from everyone else by shadows and distance. My father's Beta. His best friend. The man who taught me how to throw a punch when I was twelve because the pack kids said I fought like a human.
The man I've been stupidly, hopelessly in love with since I was sixteen.
Even from here, even through the rain and smoke, I can see the tension in his shoulders. He's not holding an umbrella. Water streams down his face, plastering his dark hair to his forehead. His hands are clenched at his sides like he's physically holding himself back from something.
Our eyes meet.
The world narrows to just that—his storm-gray eyes locked on mine across fifty feet of mud and mourning. My heart slams against my ribs so hard it hurts. For three seconds, maybe four, everything else disappears. The whispers. The lies. The burning pyre. All of it gone.
Then Dominic's jaw tightens, and he looks away.
The rejection hits like a slap. Stupid, stupid girl. Of course he looked away. He always does. You're just Garrett's kid to him. The broken wolf he has to be nice to out of duty.
The ceremony is concluded, Marcus announces. Please join us inside Crescent Manor for the reception.
The crowd starts moving, a dark mass of umbrellas flowing toward the massive stone manor on the hill. I don't move. I can't. My feet are stuck in the mud, and my eyes are stuck on the pyre, and somewhere between my chest and throat is a scream that won't come out.
Maya? Iris appears beside me, my best friend's face tight with worry. She's the only human here, the only person who actually chose to stand with me today. Come on, you're soaked. Let's get you inside.
He's lying, I whisper.
What?
Uncle Marcus. He's lying about how Dad died. The words tumble out now, sharp and certain. Something's wrong, Iris. Something's been wrong for months, and everyone's pretending—
Miss Thornhill.
The voice freezes me solid. Deep. Controlled. So carefully empty of emotion that it might as well be a stranger speaking.
I turn.
Dominic stands three feet away, close enough that I can see rain caught in his eyelashes. Up close, he looks destroyed—dark circles under his eyes, new lines around his mouth, something haunted lurking behind that blank expression.
We need to talk, he says. Now. Before the will reading.
My stomach drops. The will reading?
In twenty minutes. His eyes flick to Iris, then back to me. Alone.
Iris squeezes my arm once, then walks toward the manor, leaving me standing in the rain with the one person who can break my heart just by breathing.
What's this about? I ask.
Dominic's throat works like he's swallowing something painful. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper, and what he says makes the ground tilt under my feet.
Your father made me promise something before he died. Something that changes everything. His eyes finally meet mine again, and there's something burning in them now—something dark and desperate and almost... afraid. Maya, I need you to understand—I tried to refuse. I told him it was impossible. But he made me swear.
Swear what?
Dominic takes one step closer. Water drips from his hair onto my upturned face.
That I would never let you out of my sight. His voice cracks on the last word. Starting today, you belong to me.
The world stops spinning.
And somewhere in the manor behind us, a door slams shut with the finality of a prison cell locking.