Damien and I were like fire and ice, the two biggest rivals in Argentum Town.
I was a wild card, always leaping before I looked, stirring up trouble with my high-spirited, spoiled she-wolf attitude.
There wasn't a mess I wouldn't dive headfirst into.
Damien, on the other hand, was polished, all charm and grace, the kind of wolf the elders couldn't stop praising as a "refined gentleman."
At sixteen, he was already steadier and sharper than any wolf his age.
Three years ago, I was cornered in the shadowed thicket beyond the pack's territory, surrounded by three rogue males baring their fangs. Damien stepped in without a second thought, his growl enough to make the ground tremble. From that moment, I was hooked, chasing after him, determined to repay him by claiming the untouchable alpha no one else dared to approach.
But Damien just looked at me with those cool, distant eyes and shut me down.
"Samantha, I want a mate who's gentle, refined. You're just a reckless pup."
I ditched my wild ways, threw myself into learning every fancy trick in the book-piano, painting, flower arranging, you name it.
I transformed from a brash she-wolf into Argentum Town's picture of elegance, a proper lady of the pack.
By the time I felt ready to confess again, I heard the news that gutted me: Damien was set to form a sacred bond with my cousin, Chloe.
My heart shattered, and I stepped back, ready to let them have their happiness.
But the night before the binding ceremony, Chloe came to me, her voice soft but heavy. "Samantha, I love someone else. Could you. take my place and bind with Damien?"
My pulse raced.
Part of me was selfish, part of me hopeful.
I said yes.
Chloe left the pack that night, and I stepped into her wedding dress, binding myself to Damien.
But somehow, the whole pack turned on me, whispering that I was the one who drove Chloe away, that I tore apart their perfect love story.
From that day on, Damien's hatred for me burned like a wildfire.
The memories flooded back, and tears spilled from my eyes, splashing onto my phone screen. "Baby, are you crying?"
I stared at his face on the screen, my vision blurring.
"Sweet Damien." I started, but a laugh like gravel in a wolf's throat cut through the room.
"Samantha, so starved for affection you conjure a fake me on your phone?" Damien stood in the doorway, a glare sharp enough to split moonbeams.
I opened my mouth, but the speaker trilled: "Baby, why so quiet? Don't you want your mate anymore?" Sweet Damien's voice cooed through the speaker, warm as sun on fur-no trace of the wolfish edge in Damien's tone.
Damien's jaw tensed.
He stormed over, then snatched the phone and crushed it shut.
"Enough of this farce. Ever since you chased Chloe from the pack, we're just two wolves circling each other."
I froze, then fumbled to unlock it again, slamming delete.
The progress bar crawled like a wolf pacing its territory. When he vanished, my chest felt hollow.
Eleven, and the night hummed with the quiet restlessness of wolves , when the phone buzzed. Miles, my director, his voice practically yipping with excitement: "Sterling! Moonlit Sweetheart caught a big shot's eye. Can you swing by?"
Memories flooded-three years ago, after Damien's ninety-ninth rejection-before the pack's eyes, no less-I'd poured it all into words.
Sterling-a name I'd taken from the silver ore wolves once traded as sacred tribute.
Moonlit Sweetheart: a tale of two wolves bound by more than duty, their howls tangled in joy instead of rage. It went viral, landed me a screenwriting deal.
In reality, Damien's gaze held all the warmth of a winter coldness.
"I'll be there," I said, steady as a wolf standing its ground.
I hung up, rubbed my temples, and sank into the bed, exhaustion dragging me under like a storm rolling over the pines.
