Aveline’s POV
The summons arrived on thick parchment, its surface rough beneath my fingertips, sealed with silver wax impressed with the ancient Lycan crest. My hands shook as I broke the seal. The Lycans were legends among our kind—rare, old beyond memory, powerful enough that even Alphas spoke their name with caution. They did not attend gatherings. They did not entertain outsiders. For generations, they had remained distant observers, watching the rest of us from the shadows.
And yet, they had called for us.
I understood why well enough. My father’s pack—Thorndike—had always maintained a measured alliance with them. Respectful. Careful. As his daughter, my presence was expected, whether I welcomed it or not.
Still, my wolf shifted uneasily at the thought.
Because I knew he would be there.
Alaric—Theo, as he now called himself—could never ignore a Lycan summons. And he would undoubtedly arrive with Elowen clinging to his arm, playing the devoted husband, basking in stolen legitimacy.
My wolf growled low in my chest.
That evening, I dressed in something I hadn’t dared wear since the night Alaric “died.” Midnight-colored silk flowed over my skin like liquid shadow, molding to my body, the back cut daringly low, baring skin that caught the moonlight with every step. It felt like armor and defiance woven into one.
The Lycan gathering took place inside a vast stone hall, its walls carved directly from the mountain itself. Torches burned with pale, silvery flames, casting shifting shadows. Their presence filled the space—ancient, overwhelming, pressing down on every wolf who dared breathe too loudly. When the Lycans moved among us, even in human form, conversations died. Their eyes glowed faintly, watching everything.
As I entered, attention followed.
My wolf lifted her head proudly. So did I.
I felt his stare before I saw him.
Alaric froze when his gaze landed on me. His expression cracked—just briefly—his breath hitching as though I had knocked the wind from him. For one fleeting moment, the false skin of “Theo” peeled away, and there he was. My Alpha. The man who once swore he would love me harder than fate ever could.
Then Elowen latched onto his arm.
She leaned into him, trembling theatrically, fingers clutching his sleeve as though she might collapse without his support. It was repulsive. And he let her hold him there. He didn’t take a step toward me.
I looked away.
The evening unfolded as tradition demanded—formal greetings, respectful bows, careful words exchanged with beings who rarely showed themselves. But no wolf gathering ended with courtesy alone.
Two Alphas stepped forward to challenge one another. Clothes were discarded. Bones snapped. Massive wolves emerged, snarls reverberating against stone. The hall came alive with excitement.
The wagering began.
Gold changed hands. Furs were thrown onto tables. Warriors offered blades, Betas prized heirlooms. Shouts rang out, fevered and hungry.
Then I spoke.
“I will place a wager.”
The room stilled.
Every gaze turned toward me.
From my grasp, I withdrew the moonstone ring—the one smeared with blood, the one I had clutched while screaming beneath the moon. The ring Alaric had meant to give me on the cliff.
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.
“This,” I said, lifting it high, my voice calm despite the ache tearing through my chest, “was the engagement ring of my late fiancé. The Alpha who was meant to be my mate. I stake it on this duel.”
The silence that followed was heavy, stunned.
I felt Alaric’s stare like fire against my skin—rage, disbelief, something raw vibrating through the remnants of a bond I no longer acknowledged.
I didn’t flinch.
I placed the ring before the weaker Alpha. Murmurs erupted into shocked exclamations. To wager something so irreplaceable on a likely loss was insanity.
That was precisely the point.
The fight erupted—claws tearing, bodies slamming into stone.
As expected, the weaker Alpha fell.
The victor claimed my ring amid roaring cheers.
I smiled—sharp, brittle—lifted my chin, and walked away with my heart bleeding quietly inside my chest.
The air shifted.
He stood directly in my path.
Alaric—Theo—blocking me, his expression dark, his eyes burning with emotion he could no longer mask.
“What was that?” he demanded, his voice tight with restrained fury. “That ring belonged to my brother. It symbolized his promise to you. How could you discard it so carelessly?”
I met his gaze without warmth. My wolf stood steady beside me.
“Because that chapter is finished,” I replied evenly. “Your brother is dead. Whatever he promised died with him. The ring holds no value anymore.”
His mouth parted, but nothing came out. For once, Alaric Vandolph—the Alpha who always controlled the room—had nothing to say.
I walked past him.
But Elowen stopped me.
She ambushed me in a corridor, rage twisting her flawless face. “You pathetic bitch,” she spat, slamming me into the wall. “You think you’re clever? Parading your grief to steal attention? Feeding on everyone’s sympathy?”
Her nails bit into my arm as she shoved me into a side room. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.
Darkness swallowed me.
No windows. No light. No escape.
My chest seized as panic surged upward, old memories crashing in—being ten years old, trapped in a cellar, scratching at the door until my fingers bled, screaming for help that never came.
“No—please—no,” I gasped, pounding at the door.
My wolf bucked wildly, but the walls felt like they were closing in. Air vanished. Darkness pressed in.
I crumpled to the floor.
When they found me nearly an hour later, my body was slack, breath shallow, sweat soaking my gown.
And Alaric?
Not one call. Not one message.
Later, I learned Elowen had told him I’d gone off alone to mourn—and he believed her without question.
---
When I returned to the packhouse, the scene waiting for me made my stomach twist violently.
They were all there—Alaric, Elowen, his parents. A small crowd had gathered. Alaric stood at the center, gripping a stack of papers.
My wolf bristled.
Then I saw what they were.
Termination forms.
My body locked in place.
“How dare you,” Alaric roared, his eyes blazing. “How could you destroy my brother’s heir?”
A hollow laugh bubbled up inside me. Even now—he was still pretending. Still hiding behind that miserable lie.
Elowen stepped forward, her voice dripping venom. “You’re disgusting. You slaughtered an innocent life. You never wanted that pup. You only wanted the drama of being a widow.”
His mother struck me hard across the face. “Murderer,” she hissed.
The room spun.
Then Alaric hit me.
The sound cracked through the silence, my head snapping sideways. Pain flared—but my wolf did not whine.
Slowly, I straightened, blood metallic on my tongue.
“Why does this concern you so deeply, Theo?” I asked quietly. “Why grieve a child that was never yours? You are not my Alpha. Not my fiancé. You’re nothing more than his so-called twin.”
His eyes flared—denial, fury, agony all tangled together.
I didn’t wait for his answer.
I turned to all of them.
“I’m finished,” I said coldly. “I sever every tie to Vandolph Pack. Whatever love I had died tonight—along with the moonstone ring I gave away. And with it, my heart followed.”
No one spoke.
I walked out.
