“Elian isn’t improving. I need to return to the Moonveil Infirmary,” I said quietly. “Sign this travel sigil.”
Malven didn’t even look at the parchment. He scrawled his mark with a careless flick of his claw and shoved it back.
“Go,” he said flatly. “Handle your own pup.”
I left before the sun dared crest the horizon. The Alpha stronghold lay silent behind me, cold as its stone bones—never a home at all.
***
The journey to my father’s territory took five hours. The gate rose taller than memory—black iron gates crowned with spikes, sentinels standing like carved wolves along the walls.
Everything was immaculate. Controlled. Unmoving.
However, I was not. Thinner. Worn down in places no eye could see. Aged in ways no mirror could name.
I stepped from the car alone. No attendants came. No greeting awaited.
The halls stretched empty, watching. Judging.
Then I saw him.
My father—the Alpha Sovereign who raised me in silence, whose gaze cut sharper than steel.
“You,” he said. “After all your defiance. After burying your own life with your choices.”
I didn’t bow. I didn’t weep. Malven’s dominion had drained that from me.
“The alliance you once proposed,” I said evenly, “does it still stand?”
“No. That Alpha is mated now—to someone who doesn’t stain my bloodline.”
He turned to close the door. I held his gaze. He stilled, hand on the handle.
“But,” he added slowly, “his younger brother remains unmated. Your sister was meant for him, but ambition called her elsewhere. You—if you accept—may take her place.”
I didn’t question. I didn’t hesitate. I nodded.
I would survive. I would play their game. I would reclaim whatever remained of myself.
That night, they placed me in a guest chamber smelling of dust and cold polish. Even the servants avoided my eyes. It felt as though I had died long ago and returned as a shadow.
Before midnight, I was summoned.
The younger brother. The overlooked heir.
Raizen Wildbriar.
He waited in the old observatory, dressed in black, moonlight carving sharp lines across his face. I expected frailty. Instead, he moved like a hunting wolf—measured, assessing, dangerous.
“So,” he said softly, “the runaway Luna returns.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Tell me,”his voice lowered, edged with threat, “are you here to seek absolution… or vengeance?”
I bit my lip to stop the tremor.
He gave a low chuckle and turned toward the window. Moonlight spilled across the glass floor like blades.
“Go,” he said. “Return when your bond is fully severed.”
I wanted to protest. To say it wasn’t so simple. The words lodged in my throat.
I left and returned to the empty room—no blankets, no memories, no proof I had ever belonged anywhere. I sat on the bed, breathing, trying to remember who I was before love hollowed me out.
***
I didn’t sleep.
Dawn arrived without warmth, only more silence. My body moved by habit alone—every motion unchanged since Elian fell ill. Rest had long abandoned me.
The keep remained cold, sterile, alive with a quiet that crushed sound. I sat at the long table when the communicator chimed. Malven’s name glowed on the crystal.
I answered.
“We’re heading out,” he said lightly. “Ryke wants to try sky-sailing. Rivelle couldn’t say no—you know how she is.” He laughed. “My parents will stop by later. Make sure everything’s prepared.”
“Alright.”
The link ended. No date mentioned. No word of Elian.
Today was Elian’s birthday.
I returned to the glass-walled stronghold. Each step echoed. My hands shook as I went straight to my chamber—the only place that still held him.
I lit a small candle beside his portrait and the blue urn beneath it. His favorite dinosaur plush rested against the wall, waiting.
Elian once begged me to take him sky-sailing. He’d seen it in a moving picture and promised to wear his “pirate socks” while flying over the sea. I remembered the light in his eyes. Malven had laughed—sharp, dismissive—said it was too dangerous for a fragile pup. Said he’d be blown away.
Now Ryke would fly. And Elian didn’t even have a birthday.
I stood by the door, trembling, until the gates chimed. The front doors opened. Footsteps echoed. Servants ushered them in like royalty.
Malven’s parents.
I sank against the wall, silent. They didn’t smile. His mother’s gaze brushed over me with open contempt.
“Where’s the sickly pup?” she asked coldly. “Dead—or still clinging to breath?”
