A figure stood in the moonlight where nothing had been before. Lyra's scream died in her throat. The form wasn't solid—she could see through it like looking through water. Long hair floated around a small face. A torn white dress that she remembered too well. "Elara?" The name barely left her lips. The ghost-child smiled, but it wasn't Elara's warm smile.
This one was cold, empty. Her eyes glowed silver like stars. "Happy birthday, sister," the spirit whispered. "Eighteen at last." Birthday? Lyra had lost track of days, weeks, months. Survival didn't care about dates. But the locket in her pocket grew burning hot, and suddenly she knew. Today was the day she was born eighteen years ago. The day everything would change. Pain burst through her chest like lightning. Lyra gasped and fell to her knees, holding her heart.
It felt like someone was tying unseen rope around her soul, pulling tight. What's happening to me? The ghost of Elara tilted her head. "You feel it now. The bond awakens." "What bond?" Lyra could barely speak through the burning feeling spreading through her body. "The mate bond, stupid girl. Your wolf has found its match." No. Lyra shook her head furiously. She didn't want a mate. Mates meant packs. Packs meant going somewhere. And she belonged nowhere. The pain got worse. Like hooks digging into her ribs, tugging her north.
Someone was calling to her without words, and her body wanted to answer. "Fight it all you want," Elara's ghost laughed. "The Moon Goddess has chosen. You cannot escape destiny." "I don't believe in destiny," Lyra snarled, forcing herself to stand. "I make my own choices." But even as she spoke, her feet started moving. North. Always north. Her legs walked without permission from her brain. Stop, she ordered herself. Don't move. Her body ignored her completely.
The unseen rope around her heart pulled tighter. Somewhere far away, someone was in pain. Someone needed her. The feeling was so strong it made her sick. "Who is it?" she asked. "Who's my mate?" Elara's ghost began fading like morning mist. "Someone who will bring you nothing but sadness.
Someone who will use you and throw you away." "Then why should I go to him?" "Because you have no choice." The spirit's voice grew faint. "The link is stronger than your will. Stronger than your fear." "Elara, wait!" Lyra reached out, but her hand passed through empty air. "Don't leave me again!" Silence filled the forest.
The ghost was gone. But the pulling feeling got stronger. Like a fish hook dragged through her chest, pulling her in. Her mate was calling, and her wolf wanted to run to him. Lyra bit her tongue until she tasted blood. Pain helped her think clearly. She grabbed a sharp rock and pressed it against her hand, letting it cut deep.
Focus on something else. Anything else. It didn't work. The pull grew stronger with each beating. North. North. NORTH. She tried running south, but her legs felt like they were moving through thick mud. Every step away from her mate was pain. Her wolf whined inside her head, desperate and confused. Why are you fighting this? her inner wolf asked. We found our other half. "Because our other half will destroy us," Lyra answered out loud. She'd seen what happened to mated dogs. They became weak, depending on each other.
They made stupid choices for love. They died saving people who didn't deserve it. Like her parents. Her mother had died fighting for her father's pack. Her father had become a drunk because he couldn't handle the loss. Love was poison. But the bond didn't care about her views. It pulled her forward like a chain around her neck. Through scratchy bushes that tore her clothes. Over fallen trees that scraped her skin. Past streams that soaked her feet. Hours passed.
The moon moved across the sky, and still she walked north. Her legs ached. Her feet bled. But she couldn't stop. This is crazy, she thought. I'm going toward my own destruction. The forest started changing around her. The trees got taller, darker. Ancient magic hummed in the air, making her skin crawl. She'd heard stories about this place—the borderlands between pack areas, where old curses still lived. A howl echoed through the night.
Not the lonely call she'd heard before. This was different. Commanding. Powerful. Her mate was answering. The sound hit her like a physical blow. Her knees buckled, and she fell face-first into the dirt. Every nerve in her body screamed with need. She had to find him.
Had to see his face. Had to— No! She dug her claws into the ground. I won't be ruled. But another howl came, closer this time. Rich and deep, full of power. It called to something primal inside her, something that wanted to submit and follow. Her wolf purred with happiness. Alpha, it whispered. Strong Alpha. Perfect mate. "Perfect nightmare," Lyra corrected, but her voice sounded weak even to herself.
Footsteps approached. Multiple wolves moving in formation like troops. Their smells hit her nose—leather, steel, and something darker. Violence. These weren't ordinary pack dogs. These were fighters. "Found her," a woman's voice called.
"She's here."
"About time," came the reply. A man's voice, cold as winter wind. "I was getting tired of waiting." Lyra tried to run, but the mate bond held her like chains. Her body refused to move away from the approaching sounds.
A person stepped out of the shadows between the trees. Tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like ice chips. Scars covered his arms and face—a fighter who'd survived many fights. He wore black clothes that seemed to absorb moonlight. Their eyes met. The world exploded.
Lightning shot through Lyra's blood. Her heart stopped, then started beating twice as fast. Every cell in her body recognized him, called to him, needed him. Mate, her wolf sang. Beautiful, powerful mate. But his face was nothing like the joy she expected. His face showed disgust, anger, sadness. Like she was a piece of garbage he'd stepped in.
"This is what the Moon Goddess gave me?" he said, his voice filled with contempt. "A filthy rogue?" Each word was a knife to her heart. The link should have made him happy to see her. Instead, he looked like he wanted to throw up. "I am Kael Nightshade, Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack," he revealed. "And you, little rogue, belong to me now." "I belong to no one," Lyra managed to say, though speaking felt like eating glass. Kael's laugh was harsh, insulting. "The mate link says otherwise. You'll come with me whether you want to or not." "And if I refuse?" His smile was sharp as a blade. "Then I'll drag you.
The Moon Goddess may have cursed us both with this bond, but I will not let it weaken my pack." He motioned to the wolves behind him. Six of them, all big, all armed. All looking at her like she was prey. "Choose," Kael said. "Walk, or be carried. Either way, you're coming home with me." The locket in her pocket burned like fire. In her mind, she heard Elara's ghost laughing.
Told you so, sister. Nothing but sadness. Lyra's hands clenched into fists. The bond pulled at her, demanding she submit to this cruel Alpha. Her wolf wanted to roll over and show her throat. But Lyra Blackthorn had lived ten years alone in the wilderness. She wasn't going to roll over for anyone.
"Fine," she said, standing up slowly. "I'll come with you." Kael's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Just like that?" Lyra smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. "Just like that." What she didn't tell him was that she had no plan of staying. The moment she got a chance, she'd run. Bond or no bond, she would not be anyone's prisoner.
But as Kael's troops surrounded her, she noticed something that made her blood turn cold. One of them was holding silver chains. And t
hey were already reaching for her wrists.