They vanished before we could land a hit. Shadows with eyes—not wolves, not rogues.
They came for me, and when Thorne lunged, they scattered like smoke. The guards found us seconds later. I was dragged to the healer's den. That was hours ago.
I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Thorne's mouth on mine. His hands. The weight of his
body pressed too close, too real. My wolf kept replaying it, like it didn't care that Riven had
walked in. Like it wanted that moment carved into me.
By dawn, I'd gotten maybe twenty minutes of sleep.
The healer's quarters were still. I was supposed to be in the tower, but the guards rerouted me after the shadow attack. They hadn't found anything. No bodies. No tracks. Just scorched ground and one phrase burned into the stone:
She's marked wrong.
Whatever they were, they weren't done.
I was sitting on the edge of the cot, trying to ignore the dull throb in my shoulder, when the door creaked open.
Riven stepped inside.
I froze. "Is this a good idea?"
He shut the door without answering. His shirt was half-buttoned, like he'd dressed in a hurry.
He didn't come closer. Just leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"I didn't mean for that to happen," I said.
He stared at me. "Yes, you did."
"I didn't plan it—"
"But you didn't stop it."
His words stung. Clean. Direct. Cold.
I stood. "It was the bond. It wasn't—"
"Stop blaming the bond," he snapped. "You felt it. So did I."
I held his gaze. "Then why are you the only one acting like it doesn't exist?"
Riven moved. One blink, and he was inches from me. He didn't touch me, but his presence
landed like a punch.
"Because if I give in," he said, voice tight, "I won't stop."
The tension between us was suffocating. My wolf clawed at the edge of my skin, pacing beneath the surface.
"I didn't ask for any of this," I whispered.
He reached for my wrist. The second his fingers touched my skin, something inside me
cracked.
Pain slammed into me.
I collapsed to my knees, gasping as fire seared down my spine.
Riven staggered backward, eyes wide. The mark on my shoulder flared—hot, white, pulsing like a heartbeat out of sync.
The bond didn't pull.
It burned.
He dropped to one knee, clutching his chest.
"No—" he gritted out. "It's... pushing back—"
I tried to crawl away, but the bond coiled between us like a rope pulled taut. It wasn't a
connection. It was a war.
And then it snapped.
Not fully. Just enough for the pain to vanish like a switch flipped off.
Riven collapsed against the wall, panting, soaked in sweat. I stayed on the ground, shaking, heart hammering.
"What… what just happened?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away. For the first time since I met him, he looked afraid.
"I tried to reject it," he said.
"You what?"
"I thought if I pushed hard enough before it settled... I could kill it."
"And?"
He looked at me. "It nearly killed me."
Neither of us spoke.
Then he stood, turned, and walked out without another word.
I didn't even have time to gather myself before the next knock.
A small woman stood in the doorway. Braided silver hair, sharp eyes, and an aura like she
belonged to something ancient.
"Come," she said simply.
I didn't ask who she was. I followed.
She led me through a passage beneath the healer's wing I hadn't seen before. Cold Stone. Moonlight seeping in from slits in the ceiling. The air felt sacred, somehow—or dangerous.
We entered a round chamber lit only by a glowing slab of moonstone at its center.
"Sit," she said.
I did.
"Do you know what a Blood Eclipse is?"
I blinked. "Not really."
"Then listen closely," she said, laying her hand on the stone. "It happens once every few
centuries. When the sun, moon, and Earth align just right, turning the full moon blood red.
Wolves don't celebrate it."
"Why not?"
"Because it binds fate. Irrevocably."
I leaned forward. "How?"
She looked me dead in the eye. "The Alpha's sons were born under one."
My blood turned cold.
She went on. "The Seer at the time collapsed mid-ritual. When she woke, she said only one
thing: Three lives, one thread. Untouched, they remain safe. But if one thread is pulled, the
rest unravel."
My throat tightened.
"They were never meant to bond. Not with anyone. And especially not with one mate."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because their souls are intertwined. Binding to one shifts the weight. Destabilizes the others.
Balance is broken."
I swallowed. "So when I kissed Thorne—"
"You pulled the first thread."
Her silence afterward said everything.
"And me?" I asked. "Where do I fit into this?"
She looked almost sad. "I believe you were born under its shadow, too. Buried. Hidden.
Forgotten. Until now."
When I returned to my room, I barely made it three steps before I froze.
Celina was sitting on my bed.
She twirled a dagger between her fingers, smiling like she'd been waiting.
"You left your door unlocked," she said sweetly.
"I wasn't expecting snakes," I replied.
She stood, slow and graceful.
"I'm not here for a fight," she said.
I didn't move.
She lunged, fast—grabbed my wrist, and slashed it, clean and shallow.
I yanked away with a hiss. Blood welled instantly.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Celina leaned close, eyes shining. "You bleed like an omega. But that's not what you are. Is
it?"
I stared her down.
"If you ever touch me again—"
"I won't need to," she said. "Because something's going to snap soon. And when it does… it'll take you down with it."
She walked out without looking back.
I collapsed on the bed, clutching my bleeding hand, heart pounding.
Blood soaked into the wrap I'd tied around my palm.
Celina was gone, but the sting in my skin lingered. Not just the cut—though it throbbed with
every heartbeat—but the way she'd said it. Like she'd been waiting years to draw that line.
"You bleed like an omega," kept pounding in my head.
She wasn't wrong.
But she wasn't right either.
I wasn't sure what I was anymore.
I locked the door this time. Not that it would stop her. Not that anything would, if she really
wanted to finish what she'd started.
I walked to the basin in the corner of the room, unwound the wrap, and let the cut bleed into
the water. It stung. Sharp and shallow, but not deep enough to leave a scar.
Still, it felt like one.
I rinsed it and wrapped it again. Tight.
Then I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.
My thoughts were a mess. A spiral I couldn't stop falling through.
Riven had tried to reject the bond. The pain from that was still fresh in my body—my shoulder burned where the mark had flared, the memory of the connection ripping like someone had tried to tear muscle from bone.
Thorne had kissed me like he had known he was the first. And somehow, my wolf had
responded to him like it had been waiting for the moment.
And then Kael—
No.
Not yet.
He hadn't even touched me, not since the clearing, not in the same way. But his eyes... His eyes had watched everything. Every moment. Every choice.
Three mates.
Three threads.
The elder's words echoed in my mind: if one thread is pulled, the rest unravel.
I hadn't pulled just one. I was tugging on all of them now.
The weight of it made my chest tighten. I could feel each bond straining beneath the
surface—alive, electric, unsettled. They were supposed to be rare. Sacred. Permanent.
But mine?
Mine felt like a curse.
I curled my knees to my chest and stared at the bandaged hand resting in my lap. The blood
had already started to soak through.
The cut wasn't serious.
But the damage was done.
Celina knew something. I could feel it in the way she moved. The way she didn't flinch when she hurt me. Like she had history I wasn't part of but somehow belonged to.
And she wasn't going to stop warning me until one of us broke.
My shoulder throbbed again. A flash of heat under the skin—quick, but sharp enough to make me wince.
The mark.
It was always worse when I was alone. Like it knew I wasn't distracted anymore. Like it wanted to be noticed.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall.
"I didn't choose this," I whispered.
But I wasn't sure that mattered anymore.
My eyes fluttered shut.
Only for a second.
A sound pulled them open again.
The softest shift in the air.
Like breath.
I sat up fast.
Someone was outside my door.
My heart jumped once—then slammed into a faster rhythm.
No knock.
No voice.
Just presence.
Then, I opened the door.
Kael stood in the threshold.
He didn't speak.
He didn't move.
He just watched me.
His eyes were dark, unreadable, and locked on mine like he'd come to make a decision he
hadn't yet said out loud.
I opened my mouth to say something—but nothing came out.
He took one slow step inside.
Then closed the door behind him.
And said nothing.