Chapter 1

The mirror reflected the image of a woman smiling without having to pretend. Her hair fell in wide waves over her bare shoulders, still damp from her bath. Her skin, the color of honey warmed by the morning sun, glowed with health, and her brown eyes sparkled as if they were always on the verge of a secret too good to be spoken aloud.Luara ran her fingers over her lips, where Kade's taste still lingered. Her chest filled with a quiet warmth—not of excitement, but of belonging. Love, security, future.

She had everything: a strong home, protected by the leadership of her father, Beta Aron; a loving mother, always attentive to her silences; and Kade. Her Alpha. The mate the Goddess had destined for her. Her wolf. Her man.

Her hand slid down her neck, and she heard Nyssara growl in her mind. Luara laughed softly.

“Enough waiting...”, Nyssara growled impatiently. “I want his mark. I want his scent engraved on our skin.”

Luara applied her lipstick with trembling hands. Nyssara's anxiety was hers too, but she needed to keep her feet on the ground.

“When the pack is stable, when Kade manages to correct everything he inherited from his father, we'll have the ceremony. Big, beautiful, in front of the whole pack. The mark will come at the right time.”

“The right time is now,” insisted Nyssara. “He's ours. I don't want to wait. I want our blood mixed, our bond sealed.”

Luara sighed, her heart pounding. The memory came like a sweet punch to the chest—the moment it all began.

It was her eighteenth birthday. The party was crowded, the hall filled with golden lights and soft music, her eyes scanning the room. Then he appeared.

Kade.

Crossing the room with that predatory presence—tall, broad-shouldered, his gaze dark as the night before the storm. Luara stopped breathing, and so did Kade. His eyes met hers, and everything changed.

The air vanished, the sound evaporated. The bond hit them like a silent explosion—they both shuddered. Luara felt her body burn inside, as if her skin screamed to be touched. Nyssara howled in ecstasy, and her breath failed her.

Kade didn't hesitate.

He came to her as if the world didn't exist, held her waist tightly, and with his other hand, brushed her face with fierce tenderness. And then he kissed her. It wasn't a gentle kiss, it was an assault. Lips that demanded, teeth that brushed with restrained hunger. Tongues that met as if they remembered other lives and cried out for more.

Luara moaned against his mouth, her hands closing around Kade's shoulders. Her knees almost gave way, heat exploding in waves between her legs. Luara's body imploded from within—her pulse, her womb, her throat—everything screamed for him. Her legs gave way, and he held her tight, as if to say, “No one touches what is mine.”

“Yes...” Nyssara gasped. “That's it. It's him. Our Alpha. Our male.”

The hall fell silent. Some guests murmured, others looked on in astonishment, but Kade didn't let go. The kiss lingered, wet, urgent. A growl escaped from his chest—possessive, primitive—and Luara felt the heat descend to her womb. When he pulled away, Kade looked at everyone and said in a hoarse, firm, authoritative voice:

“She is mine. My mate. My future Luna.”

“Nothing can break that,” Nyssara purred proudly. “Never.”

The memory of the kiss still burned beneath her skin. His taste—salty, warm, unmistakable—seemed to linger in her mouth, and the memory of his firm hand holding her waist and his eyes burning into her as if she were the only possible future returned like a sweet fever.

Luara bit her lip, feeling her body react.

It had been a week. A week without Kade. He had traveled to resolve matters concerning the alliance with the southern packs. The pillow still held the shape of his head, but the scent was gone.

Luara pulled the fabric against her face and inhaled deeply, as if she could pull a shred of memory from the cotton fibers.

The days were bearable, but the nights were torture. The phone calls were quick, almost mechanical; Kade always seemed exhausted, distracted, even sad. But before hanging up, he always repeated:

“I love you. Don't forget that, Luara.”

And she never forgot.

A small smile escaped her—one of those that came naturally, even in silence. He was coming back that night. Finally. That's why she was getting ready—there would be an important dinner with the neighboring Alphas.

Nyssara stirred inside her, anxious.

“Maybe today he'll announce it.”

Luara arched her eyebrows in the mirror.

“Announce what?” she teased in her thoughts, already knowing the answer.

“The date. The brand. The ceremony. I want to be his in front of everyone,” Nyssara gasped impatiently. “Enough with the promises.”

She bit her lip. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but deep down, she felt the same way. Maybe tonight would be the night.

That's when the door opened with a soft thud.

“Luara,” said the deep voice of Aron, her father, Beta of the pack. He was serious, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched.

She turned slowly, frowning.

“What's wrong?”

“We need to talk. But... there's not much time.”

The alarm went off inside her.

“Dad?”

He hesitated, took a deep breath, looked at the floor for a second before looking at her again.

“I don't want you to go to dinner.”

Luara's heart stopped for a moment.

“What?”

“Kade will come to you later. He'll explain everything.”

“Explain what? Why can't I be there?”

Nyssara growled softly, alert.

“They're hiding something. I demand answers.”

“Trust me, daughter,” Aron said. “It's better if this conversation is between the two of you, in private. Later.”

“Father...” She took a step forward, feeling her chest tighten. “What's going on?”

Before he could answer, Luara's mother appeared in the doorway. Her gaze was calm, but there was something behind it—pity.

“Your father is right, my love. It's better this way.”

Luara felt her legs give way inside.

“You're leaving me out of something. Why?”

“Just... trust us.” Aron approached her, touching his lips to her forehead. “And that's an order, Luara. You mustn't go.”

Luara didn't have the strength to argue anymore. She just watched her parents walk out the door, leaving a heavy silence in the room and a bitter taste in her throat. Her father's words still hammered in her head: Don't go to dinner. Wait at home. Kade will explain later.

No. She wasn't going to wait. Not when he was back. Not when her chest ached with longing.

She hurried down the stairs, ignoring her mother's voice calling her name. She grabbed the lightest coat she could find and set off along the path that led to the pack's great hall. Her steps were quick and determined.

The night was clear, the full moon burning above the trees. Her dress fluttered around her legs and blood ran hot in her veins. The path to the pack's main hall was a blur of footsteps and throbbing pulse.

As soon as she passed through the tall doors, she felt it—the air was wrong. People stopped talking. Some looked away, others stared at her as if they were seeing a ghost.

“Something's wrong. Something's rotten,” growled Nyssara, alert.

Luara felt a chill run down her spine, but she kept walking, breaking the silence with the steady sound of her heels and her dress fluttering around her body.

The hall was packed. In the center, on the ceremony stage, were Kade... and another woman.

Selena.

Daughter of Alpha Luthor, of the Northern Storm—the pack's greatest rival. Bleached blonde, with a snake-like smile, her long nails dug into Kade's arm like sharp claws marking territory.

Selena saw her. Smiled. And squeezed his arm, as if to say: you're too late, bitch.

Luara stopped. The world stopped with her.

Nyssara growled inside her chest, a rough, threatening sound.

“Let him go.”

She took a step forward, instinct screaming in every muscle, but then Kade's voice cut through the hall—loud, firm, cold:

“I am here to announce my engagement to Selena, daughter of Alpha Luthor.”

The words struck like sharp blades.

Luara felt her legs give way. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The hall spun, everything around her became blurry — only the sound of those words echoing, cutting, bleeding.

“He can't! He's ours! OURS!”, Nyssara roared in despair.

But Luara could only stand there — frozen, shattered, alone.