The Mooncrest gates looked smaller than I remembered.
Or maybe I had grown.
The massive ironwood doors stood open, carved with the crest of a crescent moon and crossed claws. Wolves lined the stone pathway leading into the central clearing.
Waiting.
Watching.
Whispering.
The last time I stood here, I left in silence before dawn—broken and unseen.
This time, I returned in full daylight.
At Draven's side.
The mate bond pulsed steadily between us during the ride back—no longer burning, but alive. A reminder. A question neither of us had answered.
As we crossed the border, the air shifted.
Pack energy brushed against my senses like an old memory. Familiar. Heavy.
But it did not overwhelm me.
The silver inside me rose in response—calm, controlled, equal.
Draven dismounted first.
He turned and offered his hand.
Not command.
Not assumption.
An offering.
The entire clearing watched.
I placed my hand in his.
Gasps rippled through the gathered wolves.
Not because he helped me down—
But because when my feet touched Mooncrest soil, the ground responded.
A faint shimmer of silver rippled outward in a soft wave.
Several wolves instinctively lowered their heads.
Not submission.
Recognition.
Draven felt it too. His jaw tightened slightly.
"She carries power," one of the elders whispered.
"I always did," I said coolly, loud enough to carry.
A path opened through the crowd as we walked toward the ceremonial clearing.
The same clearing.
The same place where I had knelt.
My chest tightened—but I did not falter.
Draven stopped at the center.
The High Elder stepped forward, staff in hand.
"Mooncrest witnesses the return of Aria Vale under contractual alliance," she declared. "State your standing."
Draven inhaled slowly.
Then, in a voice that carried to every corner of the clearing—
"I stand beside Aria Vale as equal authority under the binding contract of Mooncrest."
Shock rippled through the pack.
Some faces hardened.
Some softened.
And one face—
Did not move at all.
Standing near the front was Beta Lucian, Draven's uncle.
The man who had whispered doubts the night of my rejection.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he studied me.
Calculating.
I felt the silver stir at the sight of him.
Predatory.
The Elder turned to me. "And you, Aria Vale?"
I stepped forward alone.
"I return not as claimed," I said clearly, "but as chosen. I accept Luna authority under contract, pending investigation into the rejection ritual."
Murmurs erupted louder this time.
Lucian's expression sharpened.
There it is.
Draven's gaze flicked briefly toward his uncle.
Tension coiled beneath the surface like a snake ready to strike.
The Elder struck her staff against stone. Silence fell.
"Then let it be known—until proven otherwise, Aria Vale stands as Luna of Mooncrest."
The title settled over me.
Heavy.
Right.
No cheer followed.
Mooncrest was proud. Traditional. Resistant.
But something deeper moved beneath their hesitation.
The silver in my veins responded to the land itself.
This territory recognized me.
Even if its wolves did not.
Later, as the crowd dispersed, Draven led me toward the packhouse.
Our shoulders nearly brushed.
"You handled them well," he said quietly.
"I wasn't handling them," I replied. "I was reminding them."
He glanced sideways. "Of what?"
"That I was never weak."
Silence stretched between us.
Before entering the packhouse, I stopped.
"Your uncle," I said.
Draven's expression cooled instantly. "Lucian has served Mooncrest for decades."
"He sabotaged the ritual."
It wasn't a question.
The mate bond tightened sharply at the accusation.
Draven's jaw flexed. "You have no proof."
"Not yet."
His eyes searched mine—conflict clear beneath the surface.
"You're asking me to doubt my own blood."
"I'm asking you to remember what you felt that night," I said softly. "Did I truly feel weak to you?"
For the first time, uncertainty flickered openly across his face.
"No," he admitted.
The word hung between us.
Truth.
Footsteps approached.
Lucian.
"Welcome home, Aria," he said smoothly, smile thin as parchment. "I trust rogue life suited you."
"It taught me many things," I replied evenly.
"Such as?"
"How to recognize deception."
His eyes sharpened, but his smile never faltered.
"Careful, child," he said quietly. "Mooncrest is not rogue territory."
"No," I agreed. "It's mine too."
The silver inside me flared faintly in response.
Lucian's gaze dropped briefly to my hands.
He saw it.
He felt it.
And for the first time—
He looked wary.
Good.
That night, I stood alone on the balcony outside the Luna chambers—my chambers now.
The moon hung high above Mooncrest.
Familiar.
Watching.
Behind me, I sensed Draven's approach before I heard him.
"You could have taken the Alpha chambers," he said quietly. "Tradition allows it once bonded."
"We are not bonded," I reminded him.
He stopped beside me, leaving respectful distance.
The mate bond pulsed softly in the space between us.
"You feel it," he murmured.
"Yes."
"It never broke."
"No."
The truth settled heavily.
Someone had interfered.
Someone had wanted me removed.
And now—
I was back.
Stronger.
Aware.
I turned to face him fully.
"This isn't forgiveness," I said.
"I know."
"This is strategy."
"I know."
His eyes softened—not weak, not pleading.
Honest.
"I was wrong," he said quietly. "And I will prove that."
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of pine and storm.
Far below, in the shadows of Mooncrest—
Lucian watched the balcony.
And the silver inside me whispered a warning.
The war wasn't coming from outside the pack.
It was already here.