My breath came in shallow bursts.
Cold water rushed around my ankles as I knelt by the stream, hands gripping the mossy bank like it could anchor me to this world. My wolf still hummed beneath the surface, not gone—just watching. Waiting.
The blood on my face had dried into crusted streaks, and every inch of my skin felt too tight, too hot. Like something inside me was moving, alive and crawling just beneath the surface.
I looked down.
There—just below my collarbone—was a mark. A faint outline at first glance, but the longer I stared, the more defined it became. A swirling, crescent-shaped scar, glowing faintly
beneath the skin.
It pulsed once. Then again.
Right where Kael had touched me.
I jerked back from the stream, heart slamming against my ribs. I knew what this was. Mate marks usually appeared slowly, after a bond was accepted mutually. But this wasn't slow.
This was seared into me like a brand.
"No," I whispered. "This isn't supposed to happen."
I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain shooting up my calves. My body was sore, wrecked from shifting mid-air and fighting off a rogue like some kind of warrior. And yet here I
was—branded, bonded, and hunted by gods only knew what.
The trees were too quiet now. Not peaceful. Alert. Like they were listening.
I kept moving.
Every step deeper into the forest felt like a step away from who I'd been just hours ago.
The servant girl. The invisible omega. The nobody.
Now I was the cursed girl with three mates, the center of a prophecy I didn't understand, and maybe the reason the pack could tear itself apart.
And the mark still burned.
Suddenly, the world around me blurred. My knees gave out, and my vision swam—then
shifted.
The forest disappeared.
I was lying in a different place now.
In my room?... No, in a cave. There was heat against my back and a mouth at my throat.
I wasn't afraid. I was… melting.
Kael.
His scent flooded me. His voice, a low growl against my skin. "You're mine."
I gasped, my body arching. His hands held my wrists, firm but not cruel. His breath was fire.
Then the cave flickered—and vanished.
Now I was in water, floating. Gentle hands cupped my face.
Riven's eyes met mine. Grey. Cold. Deep.
He looked angry, but his thumb brushed my lip with aching softness. "I didn't want this," he
spoke, voice broken. "But I can't stop wanting you."
I tried to speak—but the water pulled me under.
Third shift. Now I was on stone. Bleeding. Crawling.
Thorne stood above me, his shirt soaked in blood—mine? His?
His voice echoed, guttural and raw. "You think you know pain, little omega?"
He crouched, dragging me up by the arm. But then, he was holding me, trembling, his
forehead against mine.
"I'm the only one who won't break you," he whispered.
I gasped and jolted awake.
I was on the forest floor again, the stream behind me. My skin was cold, my back damp with
sweat.
What the hell was that?
Bond visions? No. That was more than instinct. That was inside me.
I stood, breathing hard. My heart wouldn't slow.
Then came the sound.
Leaves rustled. Someone or something was moving through the woods. Fast.
I crouched low, scenting the air. It wasn't rogue. No rot. No blood.
But it wasn't normal either.
I shifted, letting my wolf rise in a slow wave. No screaming this time, just a blur of fur and sharper vision.
I moved. Fast. Quiet.
Whoever it was, they were close.
Then metal clanged against stone.
I rounded a bend and froze.
Two warriors stood in the clearing, weapons drawn. Pack warriors.
They saw me, eyes wide. One of them shouted, "There she is!"
Too late to run.
They shifted, and before I could dodge, one lunged and tackled me to the ground.
Teeth clamped near my throat—not biting, but warning.
I growled low. Snapped.
The other one circled behind. "Alpha wants her. Alive."
Alive.
I didn't know if that was better or worse.
Still, I didn't fight as they forced me back into human form and yanked a robe over my
shoulders. One held my arms while the other spoke into a comm crystal. "We have her.
Bringing her in."
I was dragged through the woods, barefoot and silent, blood still dried under my nails.
By the time we reached the edge of the pack's central grounds, the sun was beginning to rise.
Lanterns still flickered from the ruins of the Moon Festival. Blood stained the grass. Healers
moved between the wounded. The triplets were nowhere in sight.
But Celina was.
She stood near the central well, arms folded, a smug smirk stretching across her face.
"Look what the wolves dragged in," she said loudly. Her voice cut through the courtyard like
a blade. "Hope the Alpha doesn't mind the smell of failure in his halls."
People turned. Murmurs rose.
My fists clenched. I didn't say a word.
But something inside me cracked.
Heat surged under my skin. Power. Untamed. It pulsed once, just enough to make the stone under Celina's feet tremble.
Her smile faltered.
I smiled back. Just slightly.
A heavy door swung open behind us. A warrior stepped out.
"The Alpha will see you now," he said, eyes unreadable.
"And he said..."
He looked at the other warriors.
"Alone."
The Alpha's study was colder than I expected.
Not in temperature—just in atmosphere. Like the room itself had been drained of comfort. No
windows. No warmth. Just heavy stone walls, thick carpets, and books stacked in strict rows
behind the Alpha's desk.
I stood in the center of the room. The two guards who brought me in were already gone. The doors clicked shut behind them.
Alpha Darius hadn't spoken since I walked in. He stood with his back to me, staring at a large
map nailed to the wall. His hands were clasped behind him, fingers twitching slightly.
I stayed quiet. He wanted me nervous, and I was, but I wouldn't give him my voice just yet.
Finally, he turned.
"Rory."
I nodded. "Alpha."
He studied me like I was a puzzle missing too many pieces.
"You were found alone. Deep in the forest. No injuries. But with blood still on you."
"It wasn't mine," I said.
"I know whose it was."
His voice was quiet, but there was a weight behind it that pressed on my chest.
"I heard what you did. The leap. The shift. The kill." He paused. "Untrained omegas don't
fight like that. They don't shift like that. And they sure as hell don't trigger a mate bond strong enough to rattle half the damn pack."
I flinched.
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "So… what are you?"
The question slapped the air between us.
"I don't know," I said. It was honest. Raw. Useless.
The Alpha sighed and paced behind his desk. "I've already had enough calls from council members. Half want you locked up. The other half thinks you're a threat to the succession.
You made enemies last night, girl."
"I didn't ask for this."
"No one does. But here we are."
He opened a drawer and pulled out a long wooden box. He placed it on the table but didn't open it.
"The mate bond," he said. "With one of my sons, I could manage. It would be... unusual, yes, but it could be adapted. Trained. Controlled. But three?"
He shook his head.
"It's chaos. It's unnatural."
I said nothing. My nails dug into my palms.
"Some on the Council say it's black magic. That the Seer was tricked. That you cursed the
bond somehow."
I raised my chin. "I didn't curse anything."
"No? Then what's this?" He pointed to the mark on my chest. "Kael touched you once, and you carry the imprint of it like a brand. That's not a normal bond response."
"I didn't choose it," I repeated. "But it's real. They all felt it."
His jaw clenched. "That's what I'm afraid of."
He finally opened the box. Inside was a small obsidian dagger. Ornate, ancient, and glowing faintly along the blade.
I took a step back.
"This is a Soul-Cleaver," he said calmly. "Forged during the old wars. Cuts the soul-bond
thread between mates. Kills the connection without killing the person."
My heart stuttered.
"You brought me here to break the bond?"
"No." He closed the box again. "I brought you here to warn you."
My confusion must've shown.
"If you don't fix this," he said slowly, "someone will."
He walked around the desk again, now only a few feet from me. "Rory, I don't know what's
happening to you—or what you really are. But whatever it is, it's tearing cracks in the
structure of this pack. You think people will just accept a prophecy that says my sons might
die if they love the wrong girl?"
"I didn't want to be their mate."
"But you are."
He stared hard. "And if this curse is real, the solution might not be removing the bond."
I frowned. "Then what?"
His voice dropped low. "Removing you."
The air snapped with tension.
For a moment, I thought he might reach for the dagger again. Instead, he stepped back and sat
down.
"You'll stay in the South Tower. Under guard. You're not a prisoner, but you're not free, either. We need time. To understand this. To test it."
I didn't like the way he said that word. "Test it?"
"You'll speak with the Seer when she wakes. You'll be examined by the elders. We'll find
out what you are—what magic touched you."
My hands were shaking. I folded them behind my back so he couldn't see.
"And if I refuse?"
He didn't answer.
But the box was still open. The dagger still sat there, humming with silent threat.
I turned to go.
"Oh, and Rory…"
I paused.
"Stay away from my sons until this is resolved. All three."
I didn't respond. Didn't promise anything.
I left.
The hall outside was empty. Too empty.
I took the east corridor, heading toward the tower where they said I'd be kept.
Stone stairs rose ahead. I started climbing them, too numb to notice how high.
Halfway up, the air shifted.
Something moved behind me.
Fast.
I spun, but no one was there.
No one I could see.
But then—there. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Hooded.
She stood still, like a shadow peeled off the wall.
Her head tilted, and beneath the hood, I saw the glint of pale eyes.
"You shouldn't have run," she said.
I blinked. "Who are you?"
The hood dipped slightly. "You already know."
And then she was gone.
Just vanished.
No sound. No movement.
But on the step where she'd stood—
A small circle had been scorched into the stone.
A crescent moon.
Burned black.
The tower room was quiet when I entered. Too quiet.
One window. One bed. One locked door behind me. Nothing sharp. Nothing loose. Just
enough to live in—not enough to fight with.
They called it protective custody. I knew what it really was.
I dropped onto the edge of the bed and let out a shaky breath. My shoulder still burned faintly where the mate mark glowed under my skin. Kael's touch had done that. His warmth still
lingered somewhere beneath the surface, mixed with the echoes of Thorne's kiss and Riven's
fury. All three tangled inside me like a knot I couldn't cut loose.
I stood and walked to the window.
The training fields stretched below, empty except for a few warriors sparring half-heartedly.
They didn't look up. But they knew I was here. Everyone did.
I wasn't just a cursed omega anymore.
I was the girl who could break a pack.
A knock hit the door once, sharp and fast.
I didn't answer.
The door creaked open anyway.
Thorne stepped inside.
His presence filled the room instantly. Tall. Still. Eyes like a thunderstorm ready to break.
"You're not supposed to be here," I said.
He shut the door behind him, ignoring me.
"I saw the mark," he said. "Kael's."
My hand moved instinctively to cover it. "It wasn't my choice."
"None of this is."
He walked closer, slowly and carefully. There was a kind of heat rolling off him. Not desire—not
yet. Just tension. Held back like a dam about to burst.
"They think you're a threat," he said. "My father. The Council. Even the Seer."
"Are you here to threaten me too?"
Thorne's jaw tensed. "No. I'm here to tell you something before they decide what to do with
you."
I stared at him. "What?"
"There's more coming. The rogue attack wasn't random. My father knows it. He just won't admit it yet."
I froze. "You think someone sent them?"
He nodded once. "And they were looking for someone."
My blood turned cold. "Me."
"They came during your shift. They scattered when you took one down. Whoever sent them
didn't expect you to fight like that."
He took one more step.
"You were supposed to be taken. Not noticed."
Taken.
The word hit like a punch. I felt it in my gut.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a scrap of torn black goddess, burned at the edges and stained with ash.
He held it out.
I took it hesitantly. There was a symbol stitched into the fabric. A crescent cloth—cracked through the center. Not the mark of our Goddess.
It looked wrong. Warped.
"What is this?"
Thorne lowered his voice. "That's the same symbol burned into the rock where you saw her."
I looked up sharply.
"The hooded woman?"
He nodded. "Celeste."
I didn't ask how he knew her name.
He stepped back toward the door.
"You're not safe here, Rory. And neither are we."
He opened the door again and paused.
"When it starts, whatever this is, they'll come for you first."
"Why?"
His eyes locked on mine.
"Because you're the only one who can stop it."
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him.
"And this time, I wasn't sure I wanted to be the one who did."